Vanessa cared about none of this - a delicious lust had already overtaken her. Smiling at me with ill-disguised arousal, she discreetly slipped one of her hands underneath the table between us. To anyone strolling past, it might have seemed innocent - her expression was calm (if, to me, clearly aroused); the journal was in one hand as she casually leafed through it. But I could see from my position opposite her that her other hand was now clearly between her thighs. She looked up towards me again, smiled irresistibly without saying a word, and shifted in her seat for moment. I heard the rustle of fabric being tugged sharply upwards, and she settled back down in her seat, smiling again, resuming her reading - though now I could clearly see a slight, rhythmic movement in her upper arm. She was obviously well practiced at this, and from above the table she appeared decent and casually relaxed, but she had made no secret of it to me - I knew now that her skirt was bunched up high, that her hand was firmly between her thighs, and if the continuing, subtle, rhythmic movement of her arm was any indication, she was touching herself, stroking herself, masturbating right there in front of me, in front of anyone who happened to pass by.
It was quite intoxicating - I watched her, my own breath increasing with the nervous beat of my pulse, and between my thighs, inside my trousers, my cock was very, very erect.
to be continued...