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You're in a classy Italian restaurant with your husband. The lights are low, soft medleys of Italian singers piped through the speakers, and the smells from the kitchen and the tables around you are enough to wet not only the appetite. You've been sitting at the table, sipping one-- then a second glass of a fine Tuscan merlot, conversing and joking about. Before the main course, you excuse yourself to the ladies' room. You're wearing a short black sundress with straps so thin they're nearly invisible. Your gorgeous legs, so tanned and smooth, swish the edge of your skirt from side to side as you walk, your black stilettos tack-tack-tacking on the tile floor as you walk. Pushing the door open you enter, walking to the counter in front of a wide mirror. Checking your appearance, you smooth your dress and wipe the corners of your mouth. Suddenly a hand covers your mouth and an arm encircles your waist. "Shhh..." I whisper into your ear. From this vantage you can only see half my face in the reflection, the other is buried in your hair where I breathe deeply of you. Your body tenses at the surprise, but once you recognize my face, my voice, my touch, you relax. "Do you know what exciting is?" I ask, tracing the outline of your ear with my tongue. Gooseflesh ripples down your arm. "It's getting fucked in the ladies' room while your husband is only about fifty feet away," I say, nibbling on your neck and eliciting a soft moan. My hand falls from your mouth and slides slowly down your neck, tracing a line along your throat to your chest, farther still to the outline of your breasts hanging free in your dress. "I can't," you say softly, but the way you lean into me so that my cock is pressed up against your ass, the way ...

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