The foot pressed a little harder.
The nylon was warm through the cloth. He could feel the outline of her toes.
"And the fresh-baked bread," the waiter said, and set the basket down at the center of the table with another bow. "The kitchen takes pride in the crust."
"It looks wonderful," Nellie said, in her soft, shy, perfectly ordinary voice, and her toes curled against him.
Lor made a noise that he turned into a cough.
The cloth on the table hid everything.
The waiter saw only two students at a table, one with a faint flush and one with a polite smile.
Under it, Nellie's stockinged foot slid up along the length of him and down again, clumsy and gentle, and each time it moved he felt the soft, warm slide of nylon over his cock through the cloth of his trousers.
She was not good at this.
She did not know where to press or how fast to go, and twice her toes slipped off the side and had to climb back on.
But she was trying so hard.
