Off comes the jacket.

“Since we have ten minutes before our food arrives, why don’t you take off my jacket and make yourself comfortable?”

“Ben!” she shoved him mock angrily. She was not that upset, but still made no move to follow the suggestion.

He thumbed the ring and thought. Why wasn’t it working? Perhaps it the wishy washy phrasing.

“You’re feeling warmer now, aren’t you? I mean, you are now warm enough to take off my jacket.”

“Well, yes,” she agreed, doubtfully, as it would feel better, “but, still… I’m not going to…”

“It’s just us in the room and I’m sure the waitress won’t mind you lounging around in your sexy underwear.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t. That’s not the point.”

“Gwen, this is an adult themed restaurant, so you should be more mature about this. Take off my jacket!” Was that too assertive?

“Yes, Ben,” she agreed, standing up and shucking the jacket. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m glad you finally realised it,” he smirked, watching his cousin slide into the seat across from him wearing only the strapless bra and matching thong -red with black lace trim-, the black thigh high stockings held by a garter belt, the black six-inch heels, and the pet collar locked around her throat.

Ben was glad she did not sit back on his lap. Not only would it be a shame to hide the view, but it would have been impossible to hide the sudden return of the tent peg in his pants.

She grinned cheekily. “A broken clock can be right once a day, Dweeb.”

“I’m on a roll. You are about to find that I’m right about a lot of things.”