It's the late afternoon and you're in a cozy bar that's starting to fill in with people, having a drink alone. It's the kind of place that's got a lot of nooks and crannies, with intimate conversations going on but a lovely spirit.

You see two women enter together. One of them is me. I'm sweet and curvy, wrapped up in a chunky knit sweater and a pleated skirt. I've got tights on and loafers, the whole outfit giving a warm autumnal vibe. My tights are semi sheer, and you get a sense of my creamy white skin underneath.

The other woman is older, maybe 50. She's got a severe look, and she pointedly sits me down in a little alcove. You have a partial view of us as she leaves me for a minute to order drinks. In the down time I don't look at my phone, I just take in the ambiance. Bobbing my head and scanning the room. I briefly scan past you, but we don't lock eyes.

When my date comes back we have an intimate conversation that's punctuated by laughter and big smiles, but also some burying of my face in my hands. She holds my attention tightly, so you find you can gaze freely at me as you please. Do you stare or just circle back to me from time to time? I don't know, I don't even register that you're there.

After about a half hour my date gets up and puts on her jacket. Then for the first time in the evening, she touches me. She reaches a hand towards my face. She gently pats the underside of my chin with two fingers, causing my eyes to rise and my face to tilt up. As those two fingers rest under my chin, the thumb of the same hand runs briefly over my plump lips.

She says something that makes me blush and then she's gone. I'm lost in thought for some unknown amount of time before I sense nearby movement. You approach and ask if you can join me.

I'm a little glassy eyed, so you aren't surprised when I accept the suggestion without much thought.

We get to talking and I tell you that I'm a grad student and the woman is my professor. She's trying to persuade me to stay on for another few years to assist in her work, instead of going corporate. When I finally tell you her name, you sputter a bit. Yes you know if her - she's a controversial figure in Oslo. A feminist pornographer from the dawn of the internet. although time has brought more people onto her side, you recall rumors that swirled around her and the fleet of beautiful female grad students who she kept on rotation. You wonder if you misjudged the air of girlish naivety around me, given the company I keep.

You're up getting us a fresh round when you look back at me and see that the pleats of my skirt have risen up slightly, revealing a sliver of milk pale thigh. The tights, it seems, were actually mock stockings. They encircle the waist like normal tights, but then are cut away so there's just two straps per leg. Those straps connect with a thigh high stockings, all one piece of fabric. You suspect that I put them in first this morning, and then pulled my panties on over them, allowing ease of access for both practical and sensuous reasons.

When you sit down this time the vibe has changed, my school thoughts fading away. Your hand finds a natural rest on my thigh, stroking absentmindedly. I try to casually peak but our bodies are cast in shadow now and there's bulky coats in the way. I suspect you've been under my hemline for a few minutes, but I get my confirmation when your fingertips make contact with my bare thighs.

Right along the elastic line of my stockings, where my plump thighs are bulging just slightly. You glide so smoothly that I trip over my word and close my eyes, before collecting myself like a chill went up my spine.

You're rhythmically stroking my bare skin now, inches from my sleepy kitty. I'm struggling to keep talking and you pretend like you don't know why, asking me "and then what?" and other burdensome questions. I play along briefly before simply stopping talking and staring into your eyes.

I'm not sure exactly what would happen here. If you would fill the ensuing silence with sweet nothings. Or perhaps you'd shift into dirty talk, see if I'll play along with something more aggressive. Or maybe you just let the quiet ride out, making easy eye contact and enjoying the warmth growing more apparent near your hand by the moment.

However you get there, eventually the moment comes when you gently place your hand on top of my panties. Your thumb rests on top of my mound, providing an anchor for your fingers to cup above the curve of my pussy. You gently press down on the puffy lips that are protecting my sweet buried clit.

At the first pressure, down and then released, I breathe in and out with you. It's noisy in the bar but we both know what sound we would be hearing if things were quiet enough. The squishy popping bubble sounds of thick glossy wetness being pressed through a fluffy neat layer of soft pubic hair and then a denser layer of thin white cotton. You feel the wet spot form under your fingers and I feel the squishy feeling of the first globs of arousal being beckoned out of me.

I blushed intensely and lower my eyes so I'm staring at your chest. Then, for the second time, I feel two fingers tapping under my chin, asking me to raise my face towards them. I look up at you with dreamy soft eyes, and you roll your thumb over my lips. You've got my held ever so lightly in two places, but I feel completely enraptured.