Maybe Just a Little

Clara's confession about enjoying being watched ignites something within you. Without hesitation, you push your chair back, the legs scraping audibly against the hardwood floor. Several heads turn in your direction as you stand, the crimson cocktail dress hugging every enhanced curve of your body.

"So you like being watched," you say, your voice dropping to a seductive purr that still carries in the quiet restaurant. The Irish lilt in your voice makes the words sound almost musical.

Clara's eyes widen as you move toward her, comprehension dawning on her face just before you slide onto her lap, straddling her right there at the table. Your dress rides up your thighs as you settle against her, your newly plumped bottom perfectly positioned on her legs.

"Mia," she whispers, her voice a mixture of shock and arousal. "What are you—"

You silence her with your newly pouty lips, capturing her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. Her surprise lasts only a moment before she's kissing you back, her hands finding your waist, then sliding lower to cup your enhanced curves through the thin fabric of your dress.

The restaurant hasn't gone silent—that only happens in movies—but there's a definite lull in conversation around you. You can feel eyes on your back, on the curve of your ass, on the copper hair tumbling down as you deepen the kiss. Clara moans softly against your mouth, her body responding exactly as you'd hoped.

When you finally pull away, her lipstick is smeared across her mouth and probably yours as well. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, pupils dilated so wide the brown of her irises is just a thin ring.

"That," you say, loud enough for nearby tables to hear, "was for no task and no reward, outside of it being something you said you wanted. That was just for us."

Clara's breathing is shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "God, Mia," she whispers, her voice husky with need. "You're going to be the **** of me."

https://imgur.com/a/RjlUJoH

A waiter clears his throat nearby, and you glance over to see him standing with your check, his expression professionally neutral despite the flush creeping up his neck.

"Perhaps," he suggests politely, "the ladies would prefer to continue their evening elsewhere?"

Clara laughs, the sound both embarrassed and delighted. "Yes," she says, fumbling for her purse without taking her eyes off you. "I think we would."

20:00 | Sunday 3 August 2025 | Clara's Car

All daily tasks completed!

Return Points: 25/100

Babe Bucks: 20