It Starts…

16 Feb

We meet in a restaurant – it could be any restaurant, just one of a large chain, a family restaurant, with kids running around and friendly waitresses.  I don’t recognize him at first, he’s sitting in the waiting area.  “Aisha,” he says, and i recognize the voice – well, and he’s the only person who could possibly know my name here.

He’s taller than i expected.  Larger than life.  O, my.

He holds out a hand to me, takes my hand, and i feel small.  Vulnerable even.  A little tingly.  

i can’t believe i’m here – can’t believe i’m really meeting him.

He has a bag in his hand, as he had promised.  He looks at me for a long moment, giving me the once over – his eyes travel up and down the length of my body, settle at last back on my face. 

“This should work,” he says. 

He hands me the bag just as the hostess arrives to seat us.  We follow her to a booth in a corner in the back.  She gestures for us to sit, but he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Where is the restroom?” i ask.  She points, and i glance at him, at the bag in my hand.  He nods.  Smiles encouragingly.

i bite my lower lip, stand, just looking at him for a moment.  He is not what i expected, and he is exactly what i expected.  And i know exactly what he wants me to do next.  Exactly what he expects.

i nod, just barely nod, “yes.”  Accepting the challenge in the bag.  And i turn toward the restroom.

In the bathroom, there are several women and a little girl, washing hands, drying, putting on lotion, lipstick.  Any thoughts i had of opening the bag in the sink area are gone.  i enter a stall. 

Hang my purse on the hook on the back.  Set the bag down.  Of course, now i have to pee, and that’s fine since my jeans have to come off anyhow.  i sit – mulittasking, i unzip my boots.  Slide them off.

Finished, i pull my jeans off.  My panties too.  i’m wearing thigh-highs under the jeans, which might have seemed odd if anyone had known. 

Only then do i open the bag.

As promised, there’s a skirt.  Spandex.  i almost laugh out loud.  Omigod – really!  Still grinning, standing in my socks, i pull the skirt on.   Thank goodness for being short – it hits me mid thigh.  My stocking tops are covered, and that’s a relief.  I really can do this, i think.

For sure, the skirt is tight.  It hugs my butt, and my belly too for that matter.   Fortunately, my sweater hides some of that.  i reach in the bag – there they are.  The shoes.  O, my.

Pretty shoes.

i had not known what to expect, but he’s gone with classic:

Black Faux Leather Round Toe Platform Pump Heels

They’re closed toe, which makes me nervous, i’m afraid they’ll be too tight, that i won’t be able to walk in them.  Sitting back down on the toilet, i pull my socks off, slide a shoe on.  It feels ok – sitting down, that is.  Now the other one.  Ok.  So far so good.

Carefully, i stand.


Yes, i can do this.

i put my jeans, my socks, my boots in the bag.   Carefully, open the door, purse over my shoulder.  Go to the sink and pull out a lipstick, slut red, my eyeshadow and mascara.   i have balked at the slutty blue eyeshadow he wanted, but gave in on the lipstick.

Carefully, feeling very tall in my heels, very naked under my skirt, i apply the makeup.  It takes a while, and i wonder if he’s getting impatient.  If the waitress is wondering what’s happened to me.

At last i’m done.  There’s a full length mirror, and i turn to it. 


Not too bad. 

The skirt looks shorter than i’d thought and i tug at it a little.  The heels are lovely.  Legs are not bad.  i turn sideways.  Too fat, for sure, but my butt’s ok. 

And there’s no point in standing here preening any longer.   i know what’s next.   i gather my purse.  The bag.  Toss my hair back, hold my head up.  Get ready to stride back to the table – well, as much as i can stride in the heels.  So it’s a slower walk going back, sensual.  i can feel the skirt rubbing against my stockings, and feel my nakedness beneath the skirt. 

i smile at him as i get closer, getting nervous but not showing it.  He smiles back, stands to let me slide into the booth.  i hestitate at the edge –

i know what he wants next –

            – don’t know if i can do it –

don’t know if i can do it gracefully, or even if i can do it at all – but

he’s waiting – “you look beautiful” he says.  “just like i imagined.”  And i grin, happy now – yes, ok, of course i can do it –

and as i slide into the booth, i hitch my skirt up, hike it up in the back so that –


just like any respectable bdsm story – i am sitting naked on the seat.  My ass on the plastic bench.  Feeling the plastic against my bare pussy.

O, my.

He smiles, touches my cheek as he slides in beside me.

“Good girl,” he says.

7 Responses to “It Starts…”

  1. strivingforpeace February 16, 2011 at 6:31 am #

    wow — what an image to live up to!


  2. Mick February 16, 2011 at 6:34 am #

    cute… I can certainly imagine it after that dinner we shared.

  3. hidden slave February 16, 2011 at 6:48 am #


  4. nilla February 16, 2011 at 9:23 am #


    so your guy is a shoe fetishist as well? hmmm, he has that in common with Sir B!!

    i’m supposed to get new shoes on Sunday…wonder if they’ll look like “yours”….

    smiling, just a big ole smile…


  5. kellyred February 16, 2011 at 12:54 pm #


  6. sweet kk February 16, 2011 at 7:32 pm #

    your writings are so inspired Aisha… thanks for sharing! 🙂


  7. aisha February 16, 2011 at 9:27 pm #

    @Sfp, and Mick, and Hiddenslave, and ‘Nilla, and Kellyred, and Sweet Kk – Thank you all – I’m glad you liked it… I love you guys…


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