I watch as she shuts the door behind herself.

It’s a fifty-fifty chance that she actually obeyed me. I could flip a coin. Heads, she walks out on me and doesn’t look back, tails, she sits back down across from me.

Please be tails.

I’ve never come across such a challenge. It doesn’t hurt that she’s absolutely beautiful. Her body is... I shouldn’t let my own personal tastes interfere with my work, but in this case her wide hips and thick ass will definitely inspire my work. I shift in my seat, already getting hard thinking about her being under my control.

I wait patiently, and I watch as the door reopens. The moment I see her face—unable to make eye contact with me—I know that she’s mine.

She walks in small steps, as if she’s afraid the small vibrator will fall out. I have to fight down my desire to throw her on the table right here and now and turn her pretty ass red. By the time she pulls out her chair and sits down obediently across from me, I’ve gotten myself back under control.

Her lashes cover her eyes as she stares down at the table. I see her shaking. I love the way she trembles.

“Madrigal,” I say, using a calming tone.

She doesn’t respond.

“Please look up at me,” I say.

She looks up at me with beautiful green eyes. She looks terrified.

“Give me your hand,” I say, more forcefully now.

She reaches her hand out, but she looks worried I’ll bite it off.

I take her hand in mine. Her skin is so soft next to my calloused hand. I wrap both my hands around her and apply gentle pressure.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. “I just want to give you what you want most. We both know what that is, yes?”

She nods.

“Now,” I say, stroking her palm with my fingers. “I said I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise there won’t be any pain. Whenever there’s pain, I’ll always make it better afterward. Understood?”

She nods.

“Nothing should hurt today though,” I say, and I reach into my pocket with one hand, clutching the remote. I turn the dial. Just barely.

I feel her hand clench tight against mine, and her whole body shudders. I find myself staring at her tits. It’s unprofessional of me, but I want nothing more than to put my mouth on them. I find myself imagining what color her nipples are… how sensitive they are...

“It’s…” she whispers, then she looks around at all the people around us.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s not what you’d usually do. But what you usually do isn’t helping things, is it?”

I turn the dial up. She lets out a moan, but quickly stifles it. It wasn’t loud enough that anyone but me could’ve heard. Still, she looks around to the other tables, with her free hand covering her mouth.

“Relax,” I order. “This is the point of the exercise. For you to relax.”

“How can I relax,“ she says, her hand muffling her voice.

I lean forward, squeezing her hand with mine. I look her right in the eyes gazing at her intently, and my voice pitched low enough that only she can hear. “You cum, Madrigal. You cum here for me, with all these people around you, and you’ll feel a rush unlike any other, and when the afterglow hits, you’ll be more relaxed than you’ve been in years. I promise you.”

Her eyes widen as soon as I say “cum,” and her lip trembles.

There’s a loud, electric whine, and we both look up to see one of the baristas holding a microphone.

“Hey everyone,” the barista says. It’s a short guy with a scraggly beard. “Our open mic night is starting now. It’s something I’ve been wanting to get rolling for a while now, so thank you for coming, and if you didn’t even know it was happening... thank you for not leaving.”

There’s stifled laughter, but not from Madrigal. She’s squirming and biting her lip.

“So,” the barista says. “To avoid awkwardness and to help things get going, I’ll be starting us out tonight. I’m going to play a few songs I wrote myself. Hopefully you will all enjoy.”

He fidgets with the mic stand as Madrigal fights her bodies response to the vibrator. She squeezes my hand, and I slide my chair up beside her and wrap my arm around her.

“See,” I say in a low voice. “I timed it just right. Open mic is starting, and now we can pretend we’re enjoying it together. The music will give you some cover and you should be able to cum in front of me and everyone else without making too much of a scene.”

“Who’s pretending?” She asks through clenched teeth, her sarcasm pointed and sharp.

“What?” I ask, rubbing her bare shoulder.

“You said we can pretend to enjoy together, but who said I’m pretending?”

I laugh as the mic makes a loud hiss of feedback. The barista cocks his head back and strums a few chords as he tunes his guitar.

“So you’re enjoying this?” I ask, eyeing between her legs.

“God, no,” she hisses. “I was just trying to—”

I slide my hand down her body and squeeze her upper thigh. “You’re going to enjoy this. That’s an order. No more sarcasm.”

The barista starts to play for real, and I turn the dial up significantly.

She leans her face into my shoulder, trying to hide her moan just as the barista starts to sing.

No one told us it was going to be this way,

Each lost in our own lives, afraid to reach out and touch each other

We’re all bound up, tightly wound, we just don’t got the balls to sayyyyyy

He draws out the last syllable, trying to hit a falsetto, but not quite managing it. His voice cracks, and he strums louder to cover his bad singing.

…sayyyyy…I-Love-You

He strums loud chords between each word of “I love you,” and his eyebrows scrunch up as he gets into it. His voice even starts to sound better as he finds his groove.

“Not bad, but certainly not good,” I whisper into Madrigal’s ear. I press my lips against the soft part of her earlobe, wanting her to imagine my lips between her legs. I slide my hand up her thigh to kill any last semblance of subtlety.