Donna, our chauffeur, opened the limo's twin doors.
The sight before Karen and I, made us gasp, then grin and giggle.
Our stares had taken in a restaurant table; it had been laid for two. Nothing had been skimped, with its red tablecloth, white china plates, silver cutlery, and, for a centrepiece, a single lit candle.
But there was more.
The table was set in a white, Arabian-style tent, which had been fully closed on its two sides, the rear open, with its curtain door draped on each side. The tent's front was completely open; it had a glass window panel to keep any gentle breeze away.
Inside, it had been decorated, with exotic pot plants, a Bedouin sofa and cushions; there were lots of cushions. In each of the tent corners burnt four electric lanterns, their fake flames flickering away. There was a string of dull yellow lights connecting each corner to the centre, giving the ceiling a creamy glow.
And then there was the view.
We may have been located in a rooftop car park, but we were four floors up and back from the seafront road; a spiralling ramp taking us up to this floor. To our left was a tower, two floors high, with a large lit analogue clock on each side. It read, seven-thirty.
The tower, like the rest of the building, was cream-coloured, but what caught my eye was the tower's lift. It was huge and built to take a car. It was clear, that the building we were on top of had just been refurbished as everything looked freshly painted. Its style was old-fashioned, yet defined.
Then there was the Southern view, nothing but sea, the English Channel. To our right, the sun was now low in the sky. It would soon set in the West, over the distant city where Karen and I lived.
It was only then that our attention was caught by Donna. She indicated for us to step into the tent, and she closed the curtain door behind us. As she did so a younger lady, maybe thirty, appeared and stood next to our chauffeur. She had blonde hair and was dressed in a white blouse and a black skirt. She also had a silver nameplate pinned to her top. In clear black letters, it read Krystal.
The two ladies were grinning at us as we took it all in. The limo had felt unreal, but inside this tent, it was another world.
“I leave you in the capable hands of Krystal,” Donna stated. “I will be back a nine-thirty.” With that, she left the same way she had come in, and our attention turned to the younger woman.
“Welcome to the Sea View (Art Deco) Hotel,” she announced. In doing so, she drew out her R, making me realise she was American, though her accent was only slight. As we were shown to our seats, I noticed a silver plate with its domed lid and a hotel business card had been placed in front of both of us. Maybe it was for the first course, I thought.
“Did you know about this?” Karen quietly asked as we both looked around the tent.
I explained that I didn’t.
Krystal opened another bottle of champagne, which was in its silver ice bucket by the side of the table. I noticed that it was the same make as the one we were drinking in the limo, and I thought of Brenda.
Karen and I gently clinked glasses and, with a smile, said, “Cheers.”
This was typical Brenda, over the top, unreal. She just couldn’t let me go on a simple date with Karen. She had to get involved, take over, and then let things run away into her extroverted and extravagant world.
With our glasses topped up, Krystal told me to open the domed tray that sat in front of me.
I did as requested.
Inside was a light blue envelope with my name on it and underneath it said, “Open me carefully.”
I showed the envelope to Karen and then looked at Krystal. She was smiling. Her smile was enough for me to realise that she knew exactly what was coming.
Using a knife, I cautiously opened it. Inside there was a carefully folded single piece of paper. On the first fold, it had an instruction. It said that I needed to read each line loudly, so Karen could hear. It was signed with just a B… It was Brenda!
I read aloud what was written on the first paper fold to Karen.
She took a large sip of her champagne and then asked me, “Is this part of your game with Brenda?”
Slightly cautiously, I replied, “I think so, though this is new to me too.”
I carried on and unfolded the next line on the paper. As Karen listened on, I read, “Clare, this setting has to be better, more romantic than what Crete can offer.” I smiled; it was, though I also thought it was probably not as warm.
Slowly, I unfolded the paper. It was a simple instruction; it just said to stand up.
I did as instructed and told Karen.
Hesitantly, I looked at the next line. This wasn’t in my tonight’s date script, though in all honesty, none of this was. I now realise with Brenda, you don’t get scripts.
“Karen, if you are wearing a bra? Please take it, take it off.”
I added the, please. The words on the folded paper being a little more direct, they had simply said… Karen, take your bra off.
I felt Krystal’s stare. We looked at each other, and I thought… Was every little thing being reported back to Brenda?
Karen giggled and looked down into her dress top, and then looked at my elevated boobs; before returning her eyes to mine.
“There is no bra down there. With these little things, I don’t need one.”
Karen’s breasts, I knew, were a thirty-two and a B-cup. She wasn’t at all flat-chested as she was trying to imply. Though tonight with the bustier I was wearing, mine looked massive compared to hers.
The next line I read aloud, “Karen, take your knickers off.” I then added a hopeful, “Please,” whilst looking at my date. She hadn’t moved.
“You don’t have to do this. I am just reading what is on the paper,” I softly added. Still hope full.
Karen just giggled and then finished her glass of champagne.
“This is all Brenda,” I said. “She is interfering and playing her games.”
“Looks like I might need to meet her soon if she wants to involve me,” Karen giggled. Her champagne glass was once again refilled by the ever-present Krystal.
I continued.
“The next line just says for you to open your domed cover.”
Karen did as requested.
Underneath the lid was a pink envelope with Karen’s name on it. She carefully opened it and giggled. “Well, it says, enjoy your meal; it is Moroccan. That’s something I never tried, though I guess it will be spicy.”
“There another line under it,” Karen chuckled. She was now enjoying herself.
“You have to take your white blouse off for the rest of the evening. It is a Brenda request.” She then added with a smile, “Krystal and Donna won’t mind, and neither do I.”
I grabbed the envelope to check. The giggling Karen was right. It clearly said that. I glanced around to check if this place was private. It was. With me feeling more body-confident, I started undoing the buttons.
Standing there, feeling on show, the two K’s eyes on me. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, and with each one, a little more of my cleavage was revealed. I felt my pussy becoming moist. It was the thrill of being on show, my nipple's rapid hardness, and those Goosebumps on my skin.
It felt like Karen’s and Krystal’s eyes had beaten my fingers to the big reveal. Their grins told me that they had already visually undressed me.
I removed my blouse, put it over the back of my chair, and then pushed out my chest, tonight I felt proud of it with my renewed body confidence. I wanted the two girls to take in the view of my boobs, their erect nipples on display for all to see. As I stood there, my hidden pussy was enjoying the thrill of the moment. My exhibitionist excitement was just as great as my younger girlfriend and Krystal’s voyeuristic kick.
