Clara slams the door of the car, opens the back door and retrieves the bag with her laptop and paperwork. She slings the bag over her left shoulder, grabs her coat off the back seat and throws it over her lower left arm. Once again, she closes the door harder than necessary and, as she walks away, she pushes the button on the remote to lock the car.
Soon she’s inside the restaurant, balancing a tray in her right hand and a small plate with a freshly made sandwich on it.
“Do you want something to drink, m’am?” the cashier asks.
“A tall, caramel latte, please.”
Moments later, she finds her favorite spot in the corner.
It’s always vacant in the middle of the afternoon, after the lunch rush at this roadside restaurant. Clara puts the tray down, drops her coat on one chair and sits down in another. Her laptop bag lands on the chair next to her.
She pulls the tray closer, and while she eats her sandwich, she watches the traffic on the highway. There’s something soothing about it — cars driving north and south, hurrying to reach the next destination. Knowing she isn’t part of the rush, if only for this one day every week, enhances the calming effect the traffic has on her.
From the corner of her eye, she sees him approaching.
Clara reaches for her latte and took a sip.
She keeps her eyes fixed on the traffic, pretending not to see him. She is, however, very much aware of his presence as he sits down at the table across from her. The smell of his freshly brewed coffee mingles with her excitement.
Clara finishes her sandwich and takes another sip of her coffee. Her eyes follow cars to the south, switch over to a car driving north and follow that.
“Now,” he says as Clara puts down her empty coffee cup.
Clara pulls her dress up to reveal the lacy tops of her stockings and spreads her legs some. His breathing sounds louder, which tells her he approves. She traces a line from her knee to the tops of her stockings and stops.
“Go on,” he urges.
Clara moves her finger down to her knee, then back up again, but this time she doesn’t stop. She can’t go on teasing him for too long, not knowing how long it will be before someone comes to sit in their corner of the restaurant.
On the other side of the wall behind her, she hears the personnel of the restaurant talking and several tables away from them — too far for the people to see — there’s a couple enjoying a beverage before they continue their journey.
Clara draws in her breath when her finger touches her naked crotch.
She slips her finger between her cunt lips, wetting it slightly, and then rubs her swollen clitoris. She’s horny — a feeling that has been with her since she opened her eyes that morning.
Clara listens for his breathing, her eyes still following traffic, but not seeing it. His breathing seems to match the movement of her fingers, but not for long. Soon her finger frantically danced around her button, leaving the pace of his breathing behind her. She spreads her legs a bit more, briefly pushes a finger inside her and then returns to rubbing herself.
As her orgasm overflows and threatens to expel sound from her mouth, she bites down hard on her bottom lip.
Clara traps her hand between her legs.
She stays like that for a couple of seconds and then sits up, her back straight against the chair, her stockings covered again, her knees modestly pushed together and her hands resting on either side of her empty cup.
Clara turns her head, watches as he takes the last sip from his cup and waits for him to lift his eyes to hers.
A smile plays around his lips and in reaches his eyes.
“Same time next week?” he asks and she nods.
“You need to prepare for that meeting tomorrow,” he speaks again and gets up.
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“I’ll cook dinner tonight, so don’t be late.”
“I’ll be home by seven,” Clara says and tilts her head up when he bends down to kiss her.
“See you later, my love.”
She watches her husband until he rounds the corner, before she retrieves her laptop and papers from her bag to get some work done.
© Rebel’s Notes