Octavia Pt. 01: The Cufflink

Clink. A dropped cuff-link.
I kneel down and look up. I see black, lace topped stockings. A silky smooth garter belt and lacy black briefs, or maybe it's a g? I press the lace with my tongue and then my lips, a long lick that drags the bottom lip up and then a gentle push with the chin. I lean in, kissing deeply and sucking at the wetness from inside. Sucking the lace in, gripping it with my teeth and then letting it snap back. A muffled sigh from above. I divert to the stocking top and nibble and lick my way back to the middle, to the wet lace. Her knees go weak with pleasure for a second, but she catches herself. I lean over and repeat from the other side. Her musky scent under the confines of her skirt are so heady that I can barely breathe, but breathe it in I do.
The automated voice on the train announces the next stop. The train is slowing as it reaches the station, and I find the cuff link I dropped, stand up, straighten my tie, and refit the cufflink as she buttons my sports jacket. She smooths her skirt, leans in close and kisses me deeply. Then she pulls the decorative pocket-handkerchief out my breast pocket, dabs it to my chin, then holds it up to my nose. Then she tucks it neatly back into my pocket. I can smell her scent on it and will be able to, all night.

We walk arm in arm and hip to hip out of the station and down the street, arriving a few minutes early for our dinner reservation. We find a quiet seat at the far end of the bar. Just one seat. I sit on the last barstool, and she slides her way onto my lap, grinding into my erection in a way that makes me draw breath and groan with pleasure. She orders a couple of Gin