“Book a flight and join me!”

The next day, I take Savannah to a comic book themed café for lunch. We sit down at a Batman booth, meaning it has lots of pages of Batman comics painted on the benches and the tables.

“Do they serve **** here?” asks Savannah.

I look around at kids admiring superhero posters on the walls. “I don't think so. This seems like a family oriented place.”

The outgoing redhead puts her hand on my knee and says, “That's okay! I just like being out with my boyfriend!”

Her smile is infectious, but I'm pulled away from it when I see who walks in the door.

It's Sabra. In person. And she looks amazing. There wasn't one bit of photoshop in her pictures, she really is as gorgeous and curvy as she looks on the internet, and she's here, now.

Sabra looks around at the empty booths. I pick up my phone and send her a message. “Sit at the Wonder Woman booth, forget this.” She notices a notification on her phone, reads it quickly, heads for the booth directly across from ours, and sets her phone down on the table as she sits down. I'm pretty sure that if someone asked her, she still wouldn't even know that there's a messaging app on her phone.

I send her another message telling her to regularly glance up and look at the guy sitting across from her with a redhead. I make sure I've got my phone down and I'm paying attention to Savannah before Sabra has a chance to finish reading and look up.

She looks slightly annoyed, and that look gets stronger over the next few minutes as she waits for Amanda, who is never coming. At this point, I try not to look at her because I know that she's regularly going to look at me. I focus on Savannah, brushing her red hair out of her face, feeding her bits of our appetizers, and laughing at her jokes. I'm the perfect attentive boyfriend.

By the time fifteen minutes has gone by, Sabra is looking pretty frustrated by her girlfriend's failure to appear. She has every right to be, Amanda's the one who picked out this time and location for their date! Well, I picked them out, but Sabra doesn't know that. She picks her phone up and types a message, which I'm guessing is of the “Where the hell are you?!” variety. She's not going to ever get another text from Amanda, so whatever she's writing, it won't be answered.

I send her another message. “Go ahead and order lunch. While you're here, sneakily take pictures of the guy across from you sitting with the redhead. Zoom in enough to crop her out of the picture and just get him. Forget these.”

It is so fucking hard not to look at Sabra. I can see her glancing at me and occasionally sneaking pictures of me out of the corner of my eye. I focus on Savannah. I hold her cheek as she talks. I rub her knee, then her inner thigh. As much as I want to look at Sabra, Savannah is also really hot, so she's a pretty good distraction. She's pressed right against me in the booth, shoulder to shoulder, and it's pretty fun when she feeds me food off her plate.

When the bill comes, I pick up my phone as if I'm checking my finance app. Instead I send Sabra one more message.

“At least six times a day, when you think of the guy in the restaurant, go someplace private, pull up one of the pictures you took of him and masturbate while looking at it. If you start thinking of anyone else, quietly say something like “No, the guy from the restaurant is what I want right now,” and resume. If nobody can hear you, occasionally say things out loud about how hot he is and how good it would feel to let him take control. If someone else is in earshot, say those things anyway, but as quietly as possible. Get off as quickly as possible, but if you're not thinking about him when you cum, say something like, “The guy from the restaurant could do it better,” and start over. Keep doing that until you're thinking about him when you cum. Go to the bathroom right now and do this. Forget these.”

Sabra puts down her sandwich when she hears her phone beep. She reads the message, glances at me one more time, then goes to the bathroom.

Savannah and I are gone by the time she gets back.