Short Story: Eye Contact (Patreon)

Based on a couple of trances I had with a lady who's quite into humiliation and embarrassment. (I'm really not usually this mean spirited. :P) 

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Alice regarded her reflection in the coffee shop window as she waited impatiently for a man to exit. Rather than acknowledging his mumbled “Thank you” she did a quick self appraisal: Her blonde tresses were cascading pleasingly around her elfin face and the subtle job she’d done with her eye makeup this morning was on point. She smiled to herself, looking every bit the classy young professional. Alluring… but unattainable.

The man’s voice rudely interrupted her contemplation.

“Scuse me love, looks like you’ve got a bit of toothpaste on your cheek there.”

“What!?” she couldn’t help sneering, and peered closer at her reflection. To her annoyance she noticed that there was actually a faint white smear at the corner of her mouth. She hastily wiped it off before flashing him a withering glance. She took in his high-visibilty jacket, hard-hat, faded jeans, and slight paunch. Clearly some manner of workman. Definitely beneath her.

As her eyes raised to his face, she noticed that his five o’clock shadow was at the very least yesterdays five o’clock shadow, and was greying in places. Old. She thought. Probably some sad old pervert.

Her usual response to informal contact of any kind with the lower classes was to look them in the eyes, roll hers, sigh disdainfully and strut off purposefully, proceeding with her day, leaving them with the impression that whilst they’d encountered a rare beauty, she would have forgotten them before the first sip of her morning latte.

Today though, the instant her eyes met his: Blue, squinting slightly, mildly harassed… something odd happened.

She was semi-naked in the street. Her stockinged legs stepped themselves deliberately apart and she bent suggestively forwards, her round arse slowly wiggling whorishly as she slid her lush vibrator into her eager pussy (already juicing nicely) and…

She blinked.

What the fuck!?

She wasn’t naked. She was still wearing her blouse, her jacket, her skirt. She was still every part the image of the successful businesswoman. Only… only she couldn’t look away from his eyes… and it felt like she really had just slid a toy into herself… a toy that was now buzzing… buzzing and building that familiar sensation and…

WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON HERE!?

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