What are we going to do with her? *

I watch him wave the napkin in the air for a second. "You know you're going to have to be taught a lesson, right?"

She gulps.

Jeez.

He turns to me and asks, "So keeping in mind what she's done with your night so far, what shall we do with her?" He looks excited.

I stutter, "I, uh." I don't want to do anything with the poor woman!

He turns to face her while I think, "How about we add an incentive for good service! When you satisfy a customer, you can satisfy yourself! I can see how much you need it from here."

The waitress looks as relieved as she looks confused, exactly how my face would look if I were in her situation (funnily enough).

"Let's see, I'll give you 2 minutes from when someone compliments you." He turns to me and smirks. "This will be fun to watch."

He waves his hand at her. "And this will help you get the compliments!"

She stumbles backwards, almost tripping, as in the space of a second, her feet are propelled into an impossible stance on high heels that I certainly couldn't walk in, and her dress shrinks into a tight little blue dress, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I watch her find her footing and tug on her hemline in a **** try to cover the bottom of her ass. She doesn't say anything with words, but the stress, fear and arousal in her eyes speak volumes.

We watch her as she hobbles back to the commotion of the restaurant.

"As for you," he turns back to me and flicks his wrist.

The world momentarily blurs; as it fades I realise I've moved forward from my position - from seated in my chair to straddling his lap, my face an inch from his. My body won't let me break away, but I don't want to, as he kisses me, surprisingly affectionately. I let my body grind onto his lap on autopilot as I lose my conscious mind to the kiss.