"Strip"

"Okay" Emma says, not hesitating even slightly, reaching behind her back and pulling down the zipper of her dress, then letting it fall down to the floor around her as she steps out of her heels.

She's not wearing a bra, so immediately you see her magnificent breasts, young, perky, her nipples neither too big, nor too small, hard, ready for someone's tongue.

And you see her cotton panties, or to be more accurate, the waitress's cotton panties. You take a long look at them realizing this is your first actual conformation that she's done what what you asked of her. And Emma can tell that you're staring at them hard.

"Good job." you say.

Emma smirks. "Thank you s..." she stops herself. Was she going to say "sir?" But there's no time to wonder about it, because she's slipping the panties down her lovely slim hips, exposing her shaved, tight, obscenely wet twat to you.

And there she stands, Emma Watson, naked from head to toe. It's something to see, and there's no point hiding the fact that your erection is raging.

You step up toward her. You want to take her right there. But you know that's not the agreement and you're going to be respectable and stick to the agreement. So, instead, you place a hand on each of her shoulders. And now you're physically touching naked Emma Watson. It's wonderful. And you spin her around, taking three big steps forward, so she's in front of the store's big front window. Anyone driving past can see her. You're certain that this is what Emma want's. And if you weren't certain, the little. "mmmm" she let's escape her lips at being exposed, tells you as much.

And then a car pulls into the parking lot. A nice car. Emma doesn't flinch. Neither do you.

It parks. The door swings open.

And out steps tall, statuesque, gorgeous Jennifer Connelly, a sight to behold. She's wearing a long dress with a frilly, flower-covered neckline, all the way up to her neck, and a high slit in the skirt. She's clearly come from some event which she shouldn't have abandoned - a premier or an awards ceremony.

You think about what Emma said earlier. "She has no control over it."

Her eyes quickly find Emma at the window, naked, wet, on display for her. And Jennifer's eyes glue themselves to the sight and don't look away, as she confidently walks across the parking lot, toward the door.

Emma whimpers. You lean in and whisper to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She answers. "It's just that... her pussy is so good. I can't wait."

So you whisper your next instruction to Emma.