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I make lunch and lay it out on the table on the patio. Back in the kitchen, I open a bottle of chardonnay and pour a glass myself and take a sip. I taste the wine and wonder if I'll get to taste her that day. I can feel my pussy nagging for attention as I imagine slipping her panties off, unable to stop myself imagining what I might discover there.

The doorbell rings.

I let Samantha in. She's dressed more casually than at the dinner, in jeans and a lacy white top through which I can see the outline of a red bra. She's wearing Converse sneakers, red ones, the same color as her bra. I guess her panties are going to be red.

I chastely hug her. I can feel her whole body trembling.

"You're shaking," I say.

"I've never been like this before."

"You're over-excited. It's too much."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Like in the restaurant bathroom." ...

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