Call Monica as Angelica

The next 30 minutes glide by like a chart as you prepare the restaurant for closing. Your mind keeps drifting to the receipt in your pocket, which you nervously fiddle with to calm your nerves. Your first instinct was to call her immediately - but you didn't. You doubt Angelica would have never left the place like that, and breaking the character just like that, after all the flirty roleplay of the last hours, didn't feel right. Also, that would have been like conceding to Jessica... or to Monica, you should say.

You eagerly wait for your staff to leave (perhaps a bit too eagerly, judging by the odd looks you receive) and then dial the number. You wait for one, two, three rings, until she picks up.

"Yes?"

"Miss Walker? This is Angelica from Baggio's." You say in your best imitation of Angelica's warm, inviting tone. "I hope I'm not bothering you, but I couldn't resist the chance to thank you personally for your generous tip and to express how much I enjoyed our encounter."

On the other end of the line, Monica's voice responds with a hint of amusement, "Ah, Angelica, how delightful to hear from you. I was starting to worry you wouldn't call." You inwardly curse your misjudgment but maintain your composure.

"How is your evening proceeding?" You dare to ask.

"Mmm... actually, I'm drinking all alone at a bar counter, right now."

"Oh?" You lean back on a table, intrigued by her response. "I find it hard to imagine a beautiful woman like you being left alone at a counter."

"Oh, they tried to join me, more than once." Her answer should bother you, as your girlfriend is telling you that she's being approached by other guys. But instead, you bite your lip, another kind of turmoil stirring within you.

"But it's almost like I'm waiting for the right person to come." Her voice purrs through the phone, and you can almost picture her lips forming those words, the corners curling slightly in a mocking tease.

"I see. Perhaps I could join you in your wait."

"That would be... lovely." You listen with a grin at the precise address she's at and bid her a momentarily farewell. You head upstairs to your bedroom, quickly shed your clothes, and examine your naked form in the mirror. The memory of your previous exploration burns with desire, but you push it aside. Angelica was already stunning in her hostess uniform, but you need something more now, something... sexy, and feminine too. You find what you're looking for in her dresser, and when you admire again your reflection, Angelica is now clad in a faux-fur white crop top, tight black mini skirt, and black heels, altogether with a golden necklace, bracelets, and silverly pendant earrings. A black purse completes your outfit.

You feel excited and nervous like for your first date with Jessica, only that the thrill runs down your curvaceous body in an extraneous way that makes your heart palpitate. You can't resist a moment of perverse fancy, as you close your eyes and slowly kiss the cold surface of the mirror. Never in a million years would you have imagined getting aroused by your own reflection.

The walk to Gibson Plaza is brisk and mechanical, at each corner you're thinking of the next one to take. You're aware, however, of the attention you draw from passing males, their scoffs, their comments, their whistles. You should feel disgusted by them, but you don't. Upon arriving at the bar, you take a deep breath before entering.

There she is - Monica - immediately noticeable amidst the others. Of course, yours is far from being the sole face glancing at the solitary woman sipping from her margarita, her dainty hand resting gracefully on the counter, as an open invite for you. Your heels click with each step, and you delicately brush her fingers with yours as you sit beside her. She turns to you with an amused smile.

"Daiquiri. Ah, strawberry." You order, and the bartender nods.

"Well, aren't you a vision, Angelica." Monica compliments you, her gaze already difficult to keep up with.

"I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you found some solace in the meantime."

"Not yet. But right now, I'm starting to feel good vibes for the night." She takes another sip, her eyes boring into yours. You skip one breath at that. Oh God.

"I must admit I was quite surprised when you walked in, before." You confess, letting your fingers slide down hers, which she doesn't pull away, much to your delight.

"A captivating lady like you, without anyone, nor waiting for someone to come."

"I just wanted to have a pleasant dinner for myself." She explains, tilting her head in amusement.

"Then I hope we provided it."

"Oh, yes. That, and much more."

Moments of comfortable silence pass, with the two of you simply smiling at each other, feasting with the reciprocal appearance, until Monica chuckles softly.

"Well, look at us. Two beautiful young women chatting and laughing alone at the counter. Imagine the ideas everyone is getting now."

"Wrong ideas?" You test her once more. She leans closer.

"Perhaps not."

Right then, your drink arrives, but it's a welcomed interruption that prolongs the moment. You clink your glasses together and bring yours to your lips. It feels... different, quite, from usual. More alive, maybe, like Angelica's palate is dozens of times more sensitive than yours. You feel the **** slide down your throat - or is it hers? Is it just her skin, or the flesh beneath it, that you're wearing now?

Then you think back at your manicured fingers caressing your breasts, wandering between your legs. No, it can't be just her skin. No, it can't just be her skin. By all accounts, you are Angelica. So, the attraction you hold for this woman before your eyes, is it yours, or Angelica's?

The conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and shared glances that speak volumes. Another drink follows, then another, each sip laden with anticipation. Your faces draw closer and closer, the tension palpable, until your hand is fully resting on her torso, and she doesn't pull away. For a moment, you fear that if you're wrong, if she's not really Jessica but simply a mysterious woman named Monica Walker, then tomorrow you'll bitterly regret indulging in these feelings.

But not tonight.

"Angelica," she murmurs as the night draws to a close, her breath warm against your skin. "I don't live far from here. Why don't we continue this conversation somewhere a little more... private?"

You meet her glare with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, your pulse racing at the prospect of what lies ahead. With a nod and a knowing smile, you rise from your seat, offering your hand to Monica.

"Lead the way."

You revel in the cool night air as Monica tugs you by the wrist, pausing now and then to draw you closer and press your bodies together, until you reach a condominium. The elevator ride feels endless, and when she opens the door to her flat, you eagerly rush in, your mouths already exploring each other with fervor. Her hands roam over your body, as if trying to claim a piece of you for herself, while yours are equally hungry, tracing her curves. Her stylish coat falls to the floor, and your lips immediately seek out the exposed breasts beneath her low-cut dress.

"The bedroom."

"Yeah."

In a brief scramble, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses behind, you end up pushing her onto her mattress; two-sized, even if she apparently lives alone. You concede yourself a quick moment to look at her flushed face before resuming your exploration, your mouths locked in a passionate dance. You stop when your wandering palms catch not her bra-clasped bosom anymore, but a pair of hardened nipples surrounded by soft flesh. Rising onto all fours, you gape down at her naked glory for the first time. The rose tattoo is not the sole one: there's a butterfly-waves pattern under her navel, which is pierced, and something indistinct on one of her thighs, obscured by darkness and her own hand stroking between them.

Meeting her intense gaze once more, you bury your face beside her fingers, not having enough willpower for more foreplay. A good boyfriend you were, you've become experienced with pleasing Jessica this way too, and you wonder if Monica's pussy will work the same. And if her taste will be the same.

"A-Ah~" Her moans fill the air as your tongue explores the depths of her groin. Her hands find their way to the sides of your head, while her legs spasm on the sheet, her toes curling in ecstasy. She calls out your name - David? Angelica? You're too consumed by the **** and the lust to discern which - before a surge of tension signals her climax. You lift your head; nothing of her sibylline demeanor has remained on her face, now fully a mask of pleasure. No, that's not true, a mysterious glint still lingers deep in her eyes.

But now you, you need some relief too. Just the sight of this sultry, older woman trembling with the orgasm you've ignited would normally give you a hard-on, but instead, it ignites a liquid warmth in your core that threatens to overflow. You have - you have to fuck her. Your hand fumbles at the foot of the bed, retrieving your black pen from your purse, ready to shed your feminine guise.

To your surprise, she takes your hand and guides it gently onto the pillow. You look at her in astonishment - she wants to do it this way? Like a woman? You're left speechless, but then you realize that, actually, yes, actually you want it too. Rolling onto your back, Monica positions herself over you.

"Let me show you the pleasure of being a woman~"