Rise up to the challenge.

You narrow your eyes slightly. Much as you're enjoying the attention Rebecca is giving you, something tells you that if you let her make a little accident in your pants she'd never let you live it down. Besides, you already have the field advantage; her silken underwear hastily stuffed in your pocket. You grin to yourself as you slide one of your shoes off before raising your leg and aiming for Rebecca's cooch, giving the area ahead of you a big nudge.

"...!" A tinkle of porcelain, and a soft dampness against your sock-covered big toe informs you that your aim has proven true - and that Rebecca seems to have literally left herself wide open. Righting the fork in her hand Rebecca gives you a glinting glare through the restaurant lighting. You give her another shrug, but this time you can't hide the smile spreading across your face. Wordlessly Rebecca returns her attention to her plate, but a few seconds later you feel her toe brush against your groin again. The race is on.

You spend the following minutes looking like you have a miniature **** fit, trying your best to swallow your moans. Eating with one leg raised isn't the most coordinated thing to do by any measure, and you don't have the experience that you think Rebecca has, but you're not backing down now. You take a glance at Rebecca as you toe her folds and sure enough, she barely manages to hold back a shudder. Momentum is clearly the key. Shoveling steak and beans into your mouth you **** yourself to chew through huge portions; anything to take the focus away from the building sensations in your groin as you alternate pokes and strokes with your foot.

Wiping your gravy-stained lips with your napkin, you find Rebecca still knifing away at a bit of her steak; the caressing against your shaft starting to weaken. Going in for the kill, you flick your big toe against her quim where you think her clitoris is. This proves to be the final blow; unable to hold back the big wave Rebecca awkwardly spasms on her chair, not only dropping her cutlery in a couple of clatters but also knocking her wine glass askew.

As she bends forward you wonder if you've overdone it. You can't tell under the poor lighting, but the likelihood that someone witnessed your strange display is pretty high. Picking up her glass (which has left quite the spill stain on the tablecloth), you almost call her name when Rebecca issues a low growl - angry or sensual, you can't tell for sure. Like a monster rising from the swamp she raises her brow to meet your gaze, and before you know it she reaches for your collar from across the table, tugging your face closer to hers.

"Your place," she whispers tersely in her need. "Now."