She Thinks I’m Sexy

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Note to reader: This story is a slower burn than my typical fare. Fair warning. Please do vote and leave a comment!

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Thirty-five. The big three five. Sandra reflected as she stared into her wine glass. Not old exactly, but certainly not young.

She felt old though.

Sandra had not taken good care of her body. Probably a solid twenty pounds overweight, though thankfully most of it had gone to her ass. Her B cups were well suited to her frame but looked diminished now that she had a bit of a tummy.

It didn’t help that her fashion sense could be most kindly described as mature. Tonight, she wore her brown hair up in a bun as always. The make-up behind her thick-rimmed glasses was minimal. She wore a black cardigan over her white blouse. Her charcoal skirt came to the knee. Nylon stockings covered her legs with a practical pair of Mary Jane flats on her feet. The net effect was professional but boring.

Sandra had long hoped the ‘sexy librarian’ image could work for her, though lately hers was more just ‘librarian.’

Sigh. She looked idly around the bar. She didn’t really know what she was doing here. She wasn’t a bar person. It just seemed like she should do…something…for her birthday.

While she was feeling a touch pathetic tonight alone at a bar, Sandra did not suffer from low self-esteem. She thought of herself as a successful businesswoman. Hyper-focused on her career, she had climbed the corporate ladder rapidly, making vice president at the national industrial cleaning supplier she worked for just last year, quite a feat for someone her age.

And she was proud of how she had done it. She had not taken the easy way, not once. No shortcuts. She had used hard work, patience, and sheer competence to steadily best her competitors who relied on the current ‘fake it till you make it’ euphemism for lying to make yourself look good. She hadn’t followed the trend to build an empire of personal alliances either, promoting and supporting those most loyal to you rather than most competent.

And she hadn’t slept with anyone to get ahead. Not that that was much of an option for her anyway with nearly every manager she’d had being male.

While many of her co-workers assumed she was asexual – never mentioning any romantic relationships, never returning any of the suggestive looks or banter that had been thrown at over her career – she was very much a sexual being. And very much a lesbian.

A man at the other end of the bar tried his luck approaching a woman and was rewarded with her invitation to take the seat next to her. They smiled awkwardly at each other. Just like that. Simple.

But Sandra was in the wrong type of bar. Sure, she could have gone to a lesbian bar, but she just didn’t have the emotional energy to put herself out there tonight. To put her best foot forward, to be attractive, to be vulnerable.

She knew she had neglected her personal life. Unintentionally, of course. With excuses just like tonight. Romance was a long term goal, but not an immediate necessity. It could be deferred until later. But later had not arrived yet, and she was starting to wonder if it ever would.

She took another sip of wine. Seven months – that was her record for a relationship, and that had been more than five years ago now. Sandra felt her sexual history was decidedly anemic for her age. Four lifetime partners. All of them had been young and inexperienced like her. Fun, but nothing earth-shattering. Nothing like what happened in the erotica she loved to read when she had time.

She still felt like a novice, like a little girl, when it came to sexual relationships. But it could be worse, she told herself. She had heard of sexually-repressed women who had never even had an orgasm. That wasn’t her. She came at least twice a week.

Her body’s needs she met with efficient masturbation. Extensive trial and error had taught her exactly what she liked. While Sandra could bring herself to orgasm by playing with her clit alone, she preferred to have something filling her while she diddled herself. A full, stretched cunt was a necessity if she wanted a powerful orgasm these days.

Yes, that would make her feel better, she thought with resignation. She could pay her tab, hurry home, and fuck herself happy. From among her now extensive collection of sex toys, she pictured the dildo she would stuff herself with tonight and the vibrator she would press against her hood.

She was still picturing self-abuse in the darkness of her empty bedroom when a woman’s voice interrupted her.

“Here I am!”

Sandra returned from her lurid visions to find an absolutely stunning blonde leaning against the bar next to her, smiling at her.

“Excuse me?” Sandra managed.

“You came here looking for a good time, right? Well here I am.”

Sandra’s first thought: a prostitute, a professional trying to solicit her. The woman certainly looked dressed for a good time. Her halter-top cocktail dress displayed an impressively full bust that looked ardahan escort real to Sandra’s eye but was big enough to make her question. Pretty face, professionally made up, maybe mid-twenties, delivering an aggressive pick-up line to…her, the frumpy overweight lady at the bar.

In theory, Sandra had nothing against paying for sex. She had even fantasized before about hiring a prostitute, though she had no idea how one would actually go about that in real life.

But what made the present situation so interesting was that the woman had correctly identified her as a lesbian. How? Was there a rainbow hanging from her nose?

“Ummm…maybe I’m meeting someone here.”

“Nah.” The woman smiled, completely undeterred.

“How do you know?”

The pretty young woman gave her a guilty grin. “I’ve been watching you.”

“You have…?” Sandra felt herself joining the woman in her conspiratorial grin for no reason.

“Uh huh. From right over there,” she pointed to a booth with a direct view of Sandra’s perch.

“And what did you see?”

The girl seemed delighted at how things were progressing. She reached forward and gently clasped Sandra’s forearm while leaning forward secretively. “I saw this sexy, classy woman sipping her wine all alone, never once looking towards the door or checking her phone. Vulnerable and defenseless.” She gave a little shiver “How could I resist?” She grinned like a wolf.

Uh huh. The balls on this woman, approaching her and calling her sexy. For all she knew, Sandra could be straight, with a long-term boyfriend, devoutly religious with passionate views on the evils of homosexuality. But here she stood, pouring honey in a stranger’s ear with absolute confidence. Sandra was impressed.

And as much as she was convinced the words were fake, it felt good to be called sexy. Sandra reached for her wine and giggled. It felt strange. She laughed occasionally, but she hadn’t giggled in a long time. She felt the girl’s eyes on her as she swallowed another sip.

“So, you got a name, sexy girl?”

“Sandra,” she said reflexively extending her hand to shake, blushing from the ‘sexy girl’ comment.

“Clarice,” the girl responded, taking the offered hand and gently rotating, planting a kiss on the back like a prince.

“Alright, alright,” Sandra guffawed, pulling her hand back with a forced chuckle as her face flushed even redder and she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had.

Clarice chuckled along with her, smiling and giving her a level of eye contact reserved for sexual pursuits. She was like something straight out of Sandra’s wettest fantasy. A girly, feminine appearance with a strong aggressive demeanor. A rare combination in Sandra’s experience. And this girl had both in spades. Unicorn rare.

Sandra took another sip of her wine. She knew this would all end at any moment when this lady of the night revealed her true intentions. Or maybe it didn’t have to? Could she really go through with it and pay for sex? It was her birthday…

“You seem deep in thought, Sandra.”

“Clarice, that’s a rare name. Like in Silence of the Lambs, huh?”

The girl’s smile faltered for the first time. Sandra cursed herself internally.

“I’m sorry, was that creepy?”

“Only if you’re drinking Chianti,” Clarice said raising her eyebrows questioningly.

Sandra followed her eyes to her wine glass. She raised her nearly-empty glass “Merlot,” she offered to prove her innocence.

Clarice squinted and gave a few skeptical nods before they both burst out laughing. The desperate laughter of stumbling first romantic conquest.

“Ah ha, so you’ve seen the film,” Sandra recovered.

“Once or twice.” Clarice motioned for the bartender. “Let me buy you a drink. Another Merlot?”

The smile left Sandra’s face. She was confused. She managed to nod.

As she heard Clarice order the Merlot and a vodka Martini for herself, she frantically reviewed her understanding of the situation.

Did prostitutes typically buy their clients drinks? Maybe? Perhaps the higher class whores could afford to risk losing money like this as a sort of investment in developing a new client. Sandra quickly settled on this as the most likely explanation, but her stomach remained tight with worry that she was missing something.

Clarice turned around with a drink in each hand. “Let me show you my booth. You’re gonna love it,” she joked as she led Sandra away from the bar.

******************

They talked for over an hour. Sandra, who only rarely consumed alcohol, felt more than a little drunk.

Clarice told a story that she worked in sales. ‘Uh huh. That’s one way to say it,’ Sandra thought. But then her story got more detailed. She had just moved here from the other coast two months ago. For her career. Still in pharmaceutical sales, but now with a different company. ‘Overly detailed story for a prostitute,’ Sandra’s inner voice told her, ‘What the hell is going on here…’ The prostitute artvin escort idea was seeming less plausible. Maybe a con woman?

Clarice’s phone would buzz periodically. She would check it and then resume the conversation, not offering to share who it was. Sandra’s imagination ran wild. Was it her pimp? Her girlfriend? Boyfriend?

Finally Sandra was both drunk and curious enough to interrogate Clarice more directly.

“So how did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“That I was a lesbian.”

“Oh you are?”

For a moment, Sandra’s heart stopped as she suddenly wondered if she could have somehow misread this entire situation.

“Just messing with you. I figured after we started talking.” Sandra’s heart resumed beating. “But I had no clue when I approached you.”

“Well what if I had been straight?”

Clarice shrugged, “Worse case you say you’re not interested. But maybe I would have convinced you.” She smiled seductively. “People are sometimes more flexible than you think.”

Sandra scoffed, “Maybe when you look like you.”

Clarice smiled. “How’s that?”

“Like beauty personified.” Sandra realized it sounded corny and pathetic as soon as it came out. She’d never have said something like that if the alcohol hadn’t loosened her tongue.

She looked away and closed her eyes. Fear. Fear of rejection. Right there, at least in that moment, she really liked Clarice and now that she’d revealed it out loud it frightened her.

Sandra expected Clarice to shrug it off. Girls probably told her how gorgeous she was everyday. She’d probably chuckle and say something like ‘aww you’re sweet.’

But when Sandra managed to open her eyes, Clarice was staring back at her. She had a little smile on her lips, but her eyes were all seriousness. They glistened. Sandra swallowed but held Clarice’s eyes, owning her words.

“What a nice thing to say,” Clarice said softly. This time it was she who looked away.

When she looked back, she seemed to have recovered from whatever that was. She smiled at Sandra. “Well this has been fantastic, but unfortunately I have to go.”

“Nooo,” Sandra whined playfully like a kid told it was past their bedtime.

“Yeah. And you want my number, don’t you?” Clarice teased.

Sandra looked away with a coy smile on her face.

“I know you do. And you’re in luck. I want to give it to you.”

Sandra looked back at her. She was hooked. Completely.

“But I want something in exchange.”

Here it came. She had known it was coming all night. It would be a relief for Sandra. Finally, they could get the prostitution out in the open. She would finally be able to calm her emotions, stop worrying about what this might or might not be.

She tried to think what she might pay. What would be a reasonable figure. A ceiling dollar amount to indulge herself just this once. The counter in her head increased, accelerating, hundreds, thousands. Clarice spoke up before the counter stopped.

“I want your number,” Clarice announced.

“What?”

“If I’m gonna give you my phone number, I want to have yours.”

“Huh,” Sandra couldn’t handle this. What was going on? “Okay…”

“But I want something else too.”

Fuck! Was this whore slut fucking beautiful bitch just toying with her? Sandra felt like she was going to have a heart attack.

“What?!” Sandra spat at her, desperate.

Clarice smiled. “Your panties.”

“Huh?” Sandra’s mind felt broken. What kind of prostitute was Clarice?

“Sandra, I like you. I can tell you like me too. But you should know I’m intense. Kinky. A lot of ladies can’t handle me.”

Sandra’s mouth was hanging open in shock as she tried to process this new information.

Clarice just looked into her eyes and powered through. “So if you want my number, I’m gonna need to see some courage, girl,” she smiled here, “go to the bathroom, take off your panties, and bring them back to me.”

Sandra’s head tipped forward, her eyes lifted towards her forehead to keep Clarice’s eye contact. Her expression said it all. It said, ARE…YOU…SERIOUS?!

She felt paralyzed. Things were so much clearer when Clarice was a prostitute. She would have paid the cost of dozens of pairs of panties for her number. But now the equation had changed.

If not a prostitute, what was she? Could she actually be romantically interested? Or was this some kind of prank? Some kind of power play? Was she making fun of her? Could someone have put Clarice up to this just to see what Sandra would do? Was there a hidden camera somewhere?

And what would this say about Sandra as a person if she complied? That she was desperate? Weak? Perverted?

“Go on, Sandra. Go now. Hurry up while I pay our bill.”

Sandra’s thoughts swirled. She was no closer to a decision, but she found herself walking towards the bathroom.

In the toilet stall, she sat down and buried her face in her hands.

Why was she so flustered? She made high-pressure decisions bodrum escort all the time. Was she really going to let some young floozy in a bar spin her like a top?

One of her fingers touched her lips. It slipped inside her mouth and she idly sucked on it and moaned. She was pretty horny. She felt like some kind of nympho pervert as she contemplated jilling off in the dirty bathroom stall.

Sandra clenched her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then opened them. She had decided. Maybe this was a scam. Maybe she would regret. But she wanted Clarice’s number. She had to pursue this. The risk/benefit ratio seemed clear in the moment.

She stood quickly and reached under her skirt to shimmy her underpants down. She stepped out of them and held them up for a quick assessment.

Sandra gulped, suddenly less sure about all this than she had been a second ago. In her hands now, her panties seemed so much plainer than when she put them on this morning. And white. And huge. Was her ass really this big? Why didn’t she wear sexier underwear?! Despite the bit of lace on the hem, the term ‘granny panties’ seemed apt. They were an old pair with a permanent dark stain in the crotch from spotting over time.

But worse they were damp. Wet, more accurately. Sandra could smell herself wafting off of them at arms length. Her damned horny cunt. The thought of handing them to Clarice in this state was unbearable.

Her anxiety spiked. She hadn’t felt her emotions this out of control since she was a teenager. She thought she had grown out of it. Apparently not. She forced herself to take some deep breaths and think.

Could she dry them quickly with the hand dryer? Could she wait for another woman to enter the bathroom and pay her for her panties to use as a substitute? Could she have a new pair of panties delivered to the bar bathroom via online delivery service?

Sandra giggled aloud. She was being crazy. She had it bad for a strange, beautiful girl she’d just met. As stressful as this felt, she was having a much better night than she had planned. Fuck it.

As she exited, she caught her image in the bathroom mirror. She was still her. Still chubby. Still sexy-ish librarian. Still way out of the league of such beauties as Clarice. But she was ok. Time to see where this leads.

Sandra marched out of the bathroom and plopped back into the booth across from her tormentress. Her skirt fabric felt rough against her bare ass.

Clarice raised a questioning eyebrow.

Sandra leaned forward and extended her hand under the table with her panties balled in her fist.

Clarice smirked at her and shook her head, extending her hand palm up on the table.

Sandra looked around quickly. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. She blew out an exhale and put her panties in the girl’s palm before she could second guess herself.

She fully expected the young woman to quickly pocket her trophy. When Clarice instead unfolded the little bundle and held them up for inspection, Sandra almost screamed in shock and humiliation. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt short of breath.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, Clarice folded and pocketed her underwear and smiled back at her. “Well done, Sandra. I’m impressed.”

Sandra’s cheeks remained hot with her heart rate high, but the words made her feel better. She bit her lip in crooked simper.

“Give me your phone.”

Sandra unlocked it and handed it over as quick as she could. When it was returned to her, she saw that she’d sent a text to a new contact named Clarice. She had half expected the woman to enter her number as Mistress or Goddess. She felt honored that the woman had entered her name. Almost like they were equals.

The contents of the text quickly dispelled that notion: *Enjoy my sodden knickers, my Queen!*

Sandra looked back up at Clarice with the best faux-angry face she could conjure.

Clarice burst into giggles. “Did I capture your thoughts accurately, Sandra?”

Not really. She was thinking about Clarice’s knickers at the moment. But she managed a playful smile. “Sure.”

“Well it’s been lovely to meet you, Sandra,” Clarice said rather formally as she stood up. Sandra stood too, hoping for a less formal farewell. A hug? A kiss maybe?

“You too, Clarice. I’ve…I’ve never done anything like that before.” Sandra confessed self-consciously.

“Well don’t worry, there’s more to come!” Clarice pointed her finger at her as she began to walk away. “Call yourself an Uber home, ok?”

“Ok!” Sandra said, watching the beauty sashay out of the bar. She looked down at her hands as she felt her heart sink with disappointment. She wondered if she would ever see her again. At least she got her phone number.

“Hey!”

Sandra’s eyes shot up to see the blonde walking quickly back towards her. “What?”

“Forgot something,” Clarice muttered as she grabbed Sandra’s face with both hands and took her lips in a deep kiss. Sandra’s eyes went wide as saucers for a moment before she melted into the kiss. She felt Clarice’s tongue on her closed lips and quickly opened to let her in. Sandra couldn’t suppress a little moan as she sucked on the younger woman’s tongue.

Clarice pulled back with an audible sucking sound. Her smile was absolutely gorgeous. “Bye!”