Before she left for the restaurant for brunch, Fanguella checked her machine again to find out when that sexy message had been left. She was going to call him back, only she hadn't admitted it to herself yet. She decided that this morning which is what she called the noon hour, this morning she would leave another sexy message on a machine. only this time it would not be her own. and this time she knew just what she was doing. Just as she was going for the phone at the restaurant, someone cut in front of her to reach the phone before her. That same bloody exasperating man from the day before. He glanced up, gave her a bright innocent smile and wave, and it seemed to her that his teeth positively glinted. Here was a troublemaker. This jerk was obviously trying to get to her, to piss her off. He was like one of those schoolboys who would tease the girl he has a crush on by taking her pencil or pulling her braid. She decided to finish her brunch first. He didn't need to know that it was working, that she was pissed off, that to her this meant war. When he finally got off the phone he passed her table as he left and she said sweetly, "Oh! You might want to take that toilet paper off your shoe." He glanced down, and as he was pulling the long white paper from off of his shoe, he noticed her opening her purse as she got up to go to the phone.
"s'funny," he commented, "I find I need to use the washroom." He made a show of opening the door to the men's room that stood just beside the phone, and going in. Fanguella refused to be fazed. She dialed the number quickly. She got the machine.
"I was thinking about you last night. I was thinking about what you might look like, with that big fat ol' cock of yours fucking me so hard that I felt my cunt flex. I couldn't help but try to picture it. I put my hands on my breasts and pushed them together as I listened to your message as I imagined you might do. I let my hands trail down my stomach and my hands massaged my thighs, squeezing them before I trailed my nails up them, and I reached in-between them. My cunt was so hot and wet already, and it was just from listening to your voice. Call me back. Tell me more." As she hung up she allowed herself a small smile, and almost immediately after the phone reached its cradle, Mister No Life Of His Own popped out of the washroom.
"So how's granny?"
"If you must know, I think I made her feel better".
"I pray only that when I'm an old grampa that I have a grand-daughter just like you to make me feel better." Fanguella didn't answer right away. She had to catch her breath. She couldn't help but be secretly excited that this beautiful man had heard every word that she had said. It was like having sex and knowing that someone was watching but not letting on that she knew. It excited her to know that she had excited him.
"What's your name." She demanded. "
I'm Douglas. And I thought you didn't even like me." He grinned. He couldn't help being obnoxious, wanting to ruffle her. She looked so calm and collected yet he had been listening to the messages she has been leaving for a few days now; and those messages where anything but calm and cool. They were so hot and sexy, they were so raw and animalistic, he wanted to fuck her right here and now. Against the wall beside the phone. He could hardly help what came out of his mouth, he couldn't think straight after that last message she had left. His pants were uncomfortably tight. He put his hands in his pockets to readjust himself.
"Need any help, gramps?" His mouth fell open; he wasn't sure how to respond. After all he had flirted a little with her but she had not given any indication that she was into him as well. She most likely disliked him. He had after all been listening in to her conversations for a few days now, and had in fact admitted as much. She was of course toying with him. If only, he thought.
"Look. I've been acting like a schoolboy, skulking in corners, behaving like a rude and crazed man. I'm not sorry for listening in, but I am sorry for telling you I was doing it. I had no business putting you on the defensive... Why is it though that you use a public phone when you leave messages like that? Did you want people to hear you?"
Fanguella was thrown. This was a very different approach he was taking. He even recognized the whole schoolboy analogy that she herself had come up with for him only moments before. He had asked such an honest question, and he did not seem to be judging her. Honestly, she had never really thought about it herself. From the first time she had left herself a message, she did not plan it so much as respond and act on an urge. To question it would have been to kill the moment. Now she was stumped for the moment.
"I don't know,” she answered softly looking him in the eye.
"What's your name." He asked in that same soft voice.
" Fanguella.". He nodded, and was about to return to his seat when she said suddenly,
"You didn't answer my question. You need any help?" She asked in a slow voice, eyes trained on his face. He stared at her for a moment, looked down at his still too tight jeans, and shrugged. Before he could say anything, her hand was gripping him over his jeans, feeling the length of his long hard cock up and down, in a slow sensual massage. She pushed down with the flat of her hand onto the tip and whispered,
"There. Is that better, grampa?" He opened his mouth to say "much" but when he tried, no words came out, so great was his surprise and pleasure. He tried again, and this time it worked.
"Much". She simply gave him a small smile, and walked away to return to her table.