She entered the restaurant and crossed my line of vision, and I felt an immediate attraction to her. Of course, it was all physical, but her attributes certainly deserved my attention. She was wearing a long off-white sweater, one of those sort of sweater-coats. It was made from fairly heavy wool, but it fit her like a second skin, and set off her curves very well, at least as far as my opinion was concerned.
She reminded me of the British actress who made all of those vampire and werewolf movies: the same up-tilted nose, full lips, and long dark hair, except that this girl had much larger breasts. From what I could see she was wearing super-tight jeans that looked like they had been painted on. Her ass was covered by the sweater, but my impression was that it was high, round, and tight.
She arrived with a male friend, but I didn't see her wearing a ring, and they didn't seem to be touching each other very much, so they may have been nothing more than friends. At a guess, she was unattached. It wouldn't have mattered to me anyway, but I just noticed the fact and filed it away.
I watched her for a minute or two more, and really liked what I was seeing. While I was sitting at a table by myself, I was actually accompanied by a couple of my lieutenants, who were sitting at a different table. While I like to have the protection around me, I didn't like having them in my face unless I needed them to do something.
When her boyfriend got up to go to the bathroom, I signaled to Gus, and waited until he reached my table. I looked up at him, and said, "Make sure he doesn't come back to her table. Don't hurt him, but keep him company." Gus barely nodded as he went past my table and followed the boyfriend to the back of the restaurant.
I waited for a full minute, then made my way over to her table and sat down. As I expected, she looked at me with a quizzical expression at first, but didn't seem too concerned. "Excuse me, but that seat's taken. I'm here with someone." The way she said it made me think that she got hit on quite a bit, which came as no surprise. Up close, she was even better looking, with clear skin, almost no makeup, and piercing blue eyes.
I looked her over for a minute, which started to make her nervous, especially when my gaze held her eyes for a moment before dropping to those large breasts pushing against the front of the sweater. As I looked lower, I noticed that her jeans descended into a pair of calf-high leather boots. The whole outfit suited her extremely well, but I knew she would look much better with fewer clothes on.
"Your boyfriend won't be coming back. He's gone with one of my associates, so I guess it's just you and me."
For the first time, a slight flash of fear crossed her face, and her eyes looked around wildly, probably searching for the boyfriend, or someone of authority. After a moment, she looked at me again. "What did you do to him? Where is he?"
I smiled in as friendly a manner as I could. "Don't worry. He hasn't been hurt. He's just been convinced that you would be better off without him for a while."
"What's that supposed to mean? Better off how?"
"Well, I think that you and I should get to know each other better. You're very good looking, and I love the way that sweater fits you and shows off your figure."
She suddenly realized that this might not be a friendly meeting, and I could see that her 'fight or flight' response was getting ready to kick in. I took one of her wrists in my hand, just holding it, until she tried to pull it back. She soon discovered that she couldn't break my grip, even though I wasn't squeezing her wrist, just holding it. "There's no point in fighting me; you can't defeat me. I'm not going to hurt you, but we are going to spend some time together tonight."
Her eyes widened, and the colour left her face. "What are you going to do to me? Please don't hurt me."
I smiled again, but by this point I think she was getting scared of my smiles. "My plan is for you and me to spend a little time together, and get to know each other. After that, you'll be free to go. You may or may not decide that you want to see me again, but we'll deal with that later."
"You want ... you want to have sex with me, don't you?"
"I would think that anyone who sees you would want to have sex with you. You're very beautiful."
"But what if I don't want to have sex with you? Are you going to hurt me, or rape me?"
"I will guarantee you, right now, that if I make you scream, it won't be because I've hurt you. I don't like to hurt pretty women."
She looked at me coolly for a moment, evaluating my response. "You say that like you've hurt women in the past."
"Well, I'll admit to having spanked one or two, but they seemed to like it in the end." She gasped when I mentioned spanking, and I lifted an eyebrow at her, wondering if she had been spanked at some point in the past. She didn't say anything in answer to my unspoken query, so I decided to let it go.
After another moment or two, she suddenly seemed to shrink into herself a little, and I thought that maybe she was getting resigned to her fate. I wondered how submissive she might also be, since I was starting to get a bit of that kind of vibe from her, although it was nothing that I could put my finger on yet.
I felt the hand that I was still holding relax, and I loosened my grip, then softly covered her hand with mine. She looked at me once again, and very quietly asked, "What do I have to do?"
There didn't seem to be any guile in her look, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I turned to look over at the second of my lieutenants, who rose from his table and came to stand behind me. I turned back to her, to give her some instructions.
"My friend Frankie is going to escort you to the washroom." When I saw the look on her face, I quickly added, "Don't worry. He's not going inside; he's just going to make sure you don't run away." I saw her relax marginally, so I continued.
"I told you earlier that I really liked your sweater. When you're in the washroom, I want you to take off all of your clothes, and I do mean all of them. Then you can put your sweater, and your boots back on. Don't do up all the buttons on your sweater; I think you should be able to make do with the middle three. When you come out of the washroom, give your clothes to Frankie, and then come back over here, and sit down beside me."
I saw her blush furiously red at the thought of being naked under the sweater, and I quite liked what it did for her. I didn't know how far down her chest the blush went, but I was sure I'd find out when she came back; having only three buttons fastened would leave her displaying an impressive amount of cleavage, as well as nearly all of her thighs. She would have to depend on the close fit of the sweater to keep her covered.
I watched the reactions play over her facial features, and reflected on how pretty a face it was. She had marvellous cheekbones, and large eyes, and the total package made you want to watch her face when you spoke to her, even though the rest of her body was itself a powerful attraction. She didn't move for a minute, making me wonder if I was going to have to get Frankie to escort her a little more physically. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, but suddenly she took a deep breath and bounced to her feet, striding away.
I watched her ass recede from me, and decided that it truly was another of her good attributes. I could see the play of the muscles in her thighs under the tight jeans, and reflected for a moment how nice it would be to feel those legs wrapped around me. Frankie followed close behind her, stopping a few feet short of the bathroom door, and doing his best to blend into the décor; when you're as tall as a basketball player and as wide as a door, that isn't easy to do.
Five minutes later, the door opened, and she looked around for a second, then shyly reached out one arm and handed Frankie a bundle. The door closed again, then it was flung wide and she strode through, almost as confidently as the way she had first entered the room with her friend. When she was fully through the door, I was stunned by the transformation.
She had combed out her hair so that it framed her face and moved in the air as she walked ... no, strutted into the room like a model on a catwalk. It seemed like she wanted to take my request and throw it back in my face, making her every move seem confident, feline in its grace, and hers to own rather than mine to control. She practically stomped as she moved to stand in front of me, finally throwing one hip out and resting a hand on it.
The opening in the lower part of the sweater went almost up to her crotch; her stance made sure that all of her thighs were visible, from the top of her boots on up; if I had been sitting any lower, I would have been able to tell whether her pussy was shaved. The tightness of the sweater was the only thing keeping her breasts captive, as it molded to each of them, lifting them a little, and separating them to show a display of skin from her throat almost to her navel. The inner curve of each breast was on display, as the sweater's edges ended about an inch or so inward after covering each nipple. In all, she was amazing, and beautiful, and my mouth went dry as I took in the result, even though I had been the one to tell her to dress this way.
.... There is more of this story ...