“Steak sandwich with the works and a glass of red.” The voice was pretty enough to draw my mind out of the business section's figures – the figures weren't good for anyone still invested in commodities… unlike the figure which had just ordered the steak sandwich.

“Very good, Madame. Would you care to...” The waitress snagged my shoe as she pulled the last remaining high stool from the counter. “I am so sorry.”

“That's...” My train of thought was interrupted by the paleness of the legs which squeezed into the space. As the owner of the pale legs hitched herself onto the high stool, her black skirt rode up offering a tantalising view of thigh – tantalising because it was well within touching distance…. in fact her knee touched mine.

I wondered if the skin was as soft as it looked… and I looked, trying to drink in every inch of skin, every curve of flesh.

The lure of the forbidden kept my eyes darting back again and again. It was impossible to focus and the numbers swam indecipherably across the page until she shifted, dragging the skirt back into place.

I took a breath. I could cope with covered thighs.

Dipping my head back into the paper, I tried not to look… but she was gorgeous. Even from behind my newspaper it was impossible not to notice the effect she was having on the people around her.

Everyone was looking.

Everyone except me.

The glass of wine arrived and I saw the way she drank it with enthusiasm.

She caught me looking and it would have been rude to not say something.

“Nice?”

There was a shrug as she took another gulp. “Lousy morning.”

“Drinking to forget?”

“Something like that.” The girl twisted round and my eyes dropped as that damned skirt rode up.

Her legs were crossed and the tightness of the stretched material meant there was a gap. My mind was powerless: I couldn't help but imagine what I might see if I bent down. I couldn't drag my attention away from her legs or from the gap.

“How's the… soup?”

“Hmmm?” I jerked my attention back to her face. “Yes, fine. Wonderful. Amazing!” Stop talking! You sound like a crazy person. I felt my face flushing with embarrassment. She must have seen me staring at her legs.

Must have.

“That good, huh? Perhaps I'll have it next time.” I felt my eyes bulge as the legs re-arranged themselves, dragging the skirt up even higher. The black line retreated at the edge of my vision, making my heart race as I wondered what might have been revealed.

It had been indecent before.

As soon as she reached for her glass, I looked down, shielding my eyes by pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

I only wanted a peek… but what I saw made me break into a sweat.

I swallowed as my mouth went dry.

At first, I wasn't quite sure what I was looking at.

And then I was.

“You seem a little distracted.” I glanced up for long enough to see the slight colouration on the woman's cheeks. Either the wine was having a rapid effect… or she was excited by what she was doing. After a couple of seconds, she wriggled in her seat and adjusted the skirt down.

I sat there for a moment.

Disappointed.

Shocked.

Not at what I had seen but what I was about to do.

Rolling the newspaper, I touched it against the woman's knee.

She looked at the newspaper and then at me. “Pull your skirt up.”

She froze with her wine glass half way to her mouth. I held her gaze, determined not to back down; determined to make her look away first; determined to make her obey.

For endless seconds it felt as though the world had paused; forget breathing – my heart had stopped beating.

I didn't repeat myself.

I knew she'd heard me – it was just a question of what she would do next.

When she did move, it was to tip the entire contents of the glass into her mouth and swallow.

Her breathing came hard now; hard enough to make the buttons on her blouse strain as she gripped the edges of her skirt with both hands and pulled them up.

She did it slowly, inch by inch, teasing me even as she obeyed my order. Her thighs came on show… the outer curves and then the inner curves… and then what was between her thighs.

I gasped.

She really wasn't wearing any underwear, which meant I was now looking directly at her pussy. It felt like I had forgotten how to breathe – I'd asked to see this girl's pussy… and she was showing it to me in all its soft-fuzzed glory.

I was so shocked, so busy drinking in the details that I forgot where we were.

It wasn't a dream.

The skirt kept rising.

It was so high now that anyone looking at the bar would be able to see.

The kitchen door opened and the waitress caught my eye as she began weaving between the tables. “Pull it down,” I hissed. “Now!”

“Make your mind up.” Sweat was dripping down my back as the waitress collected condiments and deposited them on the counter top.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“A jug of iced water would be lovely. Two glasses.” I smiled gratefully. “I think we're both pretty hot.” My skin prickled as my body was scrutinised.

I sipped my iced water as the woman started demolishing the sandwich. “Do you always...”

“Obey?”

“Show your pussy to strangers?”

“Don't be silly. I only show my pussy to people I want to fuck.” The phrase called to mind an image of crumpled bedsheets, lying side-by-side looking up at a ceiling, gasping with post-coital satisfaction. “I'm Annie, by the way. My friends call me Naughty Annie.”

“Naughty Annie? I can't imagine why.”