His pet for the night

To some, flirting could be far from loving, but in this story, it was keen interest at a glance.

While Rex had fun stroking Angela's legs, engrossed with untying her shoes, she, admiring the male before her, experienced an unfamiliar sensation at the junction of her thighs.

What she couldn't recognize as the initial strokes of a developing love, she thought, stemmed from sheer attraction.

With the last strap of her heels off, he lingered on his knees and massaged her sore ankles. His face was also mere inches away from the spot she felt to be touched the most, and for the first time, too.

The lady closed her eyes, trying to block the naughty illusion.

{Grab and place his head at our core, rub it until we understand this unfamiliar desire since meeting him tonight.}

But that would be deemed out of proportion; morality reasoned. Still, the determination and the wonders those hands could accomplish?

{Knock it off, Flora.}

[Isn't he the one to arouse our curiosity in their species?]

{What? Are you just turning eighteen?}

[And what if, with him, I am? Don't play smug, he can perceive our interest]

{You think? Am I that ajar to read through?}

[How about opening your eyelids instead of closing them?]

Ahhh, the inward thought turmoil each one faces, hers she labeled as Flora.

She tucked the inner voice to a distance and opened her sight, her brows lit in adoration at the stranger's frame.

He dressed in a simple expensive black shirt, along with a matching cap, yet, while he wasn't a hunk, his statue wasn't small in comparison, either.

Again, his palms exhibited the vibe of a male player, and anew, she envisioned him roaming the skilled hands on her body.

But he stood at that moment, towering over her as if his perfume weren't a pleasant reminder of just how their worlds were far apart.

And, while his fragrance caressed her nostrils, his aura drew her to acknowledge the attraction.

Bending and pushing her pants apart, she swallowed his pole into her penny and after climaxing, another realization settled.

{Omg, I mind-freaked with a stranger?} Relieved, she sighed, looked around the surroundings and saw everyone still engrossed in what they were doing. This further convinced she didn't just have intimacy with him. Her clothes were, after all, yet to be rumpled. Delighted to realize the sex scene had been but a product of her imagination; a part of her felt disappointed.

How would it feel to experience being with this male? Would it be as envisioned? Or even more erotica?

{Get hold of yourself, Flora. It's an open environment,'} she cautioned her daydreaming self. Well, at least her mind and aroused frame agreed, concurring with the fact that the gentleman had to be taken home for bedroom practice.

When nothing was left to be done, he stood up. Reaching to retrieve her shoes from his extended arm, Angela murmured her thanks before taking a step away from the magnet.

'Whoops' became the next word to get out of her lips. Before long, she was falling so sure toward the ground, her weight and alcoholic state in disarray. She braced in wait for the fall's impact. A few moments later, but experiencing no painful effect, the smell of that expensive fragrance nudged her to awareness. Still with her eyes closed, she extended an arm and met with the solid chest before her, running into contact straight to the man's nipple.

{Shouldn't handsome men button up their shirts? These things get distracting, } she pondered, gulping down held-up saliva. Summoning courage, she pried her sights to travel upward until she reached his sculptured face.

Every thought stood on pause as the two checked each other out. Faces mere inches apart from each other and with lips about to touch, she noticed he wasn't a terrible fit for her not-so-small statue. Tall with rich skin, hair pulled back in a bun, and his air of authority commanding. Spoiler alert flagged Bad Boy, Prince Charmer, a heartbreaker. Flora, however, screamed, an empathic leader, and although intense? Concealed tenderness underneath the surface.

Funny, he's yet to introduce himself. Still, her body has been busy making friends with his chemistry. But, even as her core had moisturized her undies, she withheld the urge to kiss him. She felt embarrassed, thinking she had leaked her pants. Not understanding what was happening, she clamped her thighs together, horny as heck as she envisioned him as her lover. His next remarks, however, had her flaring up in discontent.

“Be my slave for a night,” he requested.

[To be his servant?] she rephrased. In her drunken state, she tried to assert if the stranger was making jokes.

[For just six hours, Angela.] Flora corrected. But who cared, being his pet for the day or a midnight sounded the same to her. She slapped her forehead, forever dreaming higher from a sudden encounter. First, it began with a chuckle, which soon developed into a hysterical one.

Now, while her imagination had played bread and butter with the male, despite being alcohol-messed up and numb from the effect of his offer? She extended her sights to look beyond his charming frame. It was then she realized the state of her predicament.

~ She's standing inside a toilet hallway. The place is now void of people. A stranger has his palms resting on her buttocks, with the excuse of preventing her from falling. He asked her out. Not on a date, but to be his freaking submissive?

Yep, sometimes life stunk. Angela concluded, feeling dejected. Still, her clitoris contracted in rhythm, nudging her to please accept the offer. Stupid penny, eager to experience its first erotica. But a pet with a handsome male like this? And instead of being asked to care for his welfare and as his wife? What ridiculousness. Grasping his hands, she pushed the midnight meal away from her already intoxicated body.

He took a step backward, surprised, before bracing himself.

“Easy baby, that's not how to be thankful.”

“Do you have an inkling of what you're proposing?”

“Yes, just as I know, leaving this place without you will be detrimental to my pole.”