Her eyes were brilliant, sparkling like jewels in the sun, and I couldn’t wait to have her as my wife. There was hardly anyone in the restaurant, so when nobody was looking, I leaned over and kissed one of her breasts through her orange blouse. Giggling like naughty little girl, she lifted the hem of her blouse to expose her naked breasts. She hadn’t bothered with a bra. I leaned in and took the right nipple into my mouth and massaged it with my tongue. Before we could be caught, she pushed me away and put her shirt back down. “I’d give stroke your cock, but I’ve got sauce all over my hands!” she said.“Come on,” I said. We were done eating, anyways.The restaurant had its own set of bathrooms, small ones for only one person, and they locked. Thank goodness.We washed our hands together, kissing each other, then our passion hit full throttle, and I had her blouse off and jeans down around her ankles in no time. I was fingering her clit and kissing her hard as she managed to free my. She could tell they were trying to act uninterested, but they were waiting, as much as Alyssa with her bated breath- for her answer. Dez sucked in a breath, and in the mirror, the stranger did, too. If she said what she really felt, what would happen? Would they drop her off, drive her out of L.A. and back to the boondocks and her old life? Or would they make her reshoot it, pretend-replay the surprise unveiling, this time replete with sincere fake joy, awe, and gratitude? It was almost too unbearable to think. In the brief moment she had before someone prompted her, she tried to scrounge up the last three days. How much film- usable film- had they shot? Would it be enough to finish their happy little show- did she even have a choice in the matter with her reaction? And while she debated, the transformation flashed in her mind’s eye in cinematic form: what the rest of the world, represented by the unblinking black eye of the camera, would see when they turned on their television.
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