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“Everything’s ready, I’ll go get it. I hope you don’t mind spaghetti and meatballs.” I went to the kitchen and brought out two pots. When I opened the lids steam poured out. I went back to the kitchen and brought out the bread. “Some of it is garlic, and there’s butter if you want it.”“Thank you, Melinda,” he said. I decided I might as well serve it too. I leaned over the table, giving hi a good view of my juicy ass. I wore my bra or panties. I put food on his plate and poured our drinks. Then I sat down, getting a bit of food for myself.We talked a bit, but I think that for the most part Ray was staring me down. I mostly played with my food. My appetite wasn’t for food, but attention. And I was getting plenty of it.I sat up straight, and my tits were nearly popping out of my dress. My nipples were hard and it was easy to see that. At one point, I decided to really mess with him and I slid my foot, under the table, to Ray’s leg. I let my toes tickle their way up his foot and nearly. I think he knows I’m dressing for him. When we walk into the cafe, he always looks my way, and I see him memorizing the way I look, as if storing up my image for later use. At least, I hope that’s what he’s doing.Sometimes, I imagine what I might say if we were to find each other all alone together. Maybe back by the payphones near the two tiny restrooms. I try to picture our conversation, try to hear it in my head. Could I tell him I have such a crush on him? No. No fucking way. Not in a small town like this.So instead, I fantasize. I think about him sliding me a note that tells me where and when to meet him. Some place safe. Some place close. I think about him taking off in his car to a beach or a park, even sometimes a warehouse. Telling me to get down onto my knees and suck his cock for him. I am dressed in a carefully prepared outfit, my polished black boots, crisp jeans, white long-sleeved shirt. I close my eyes and feel his hands on my shoulders, guiding me down to my knees..
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