He asked me if I would if he said he was OK with it. I thought I was being set up so I took the safe answer and again said NO. He stood up and asked me to stand. Then he took a step back away from me , he was eyeing me up and down. I was wearing my tight denim shorts. The little hem on the legs just one inch from my crotch. I also had a white tank top that was tucked in the shorts. And since it was very warm that day I wasn't wearing a bra. Having Barry oggle me like that made me uneasy. My nipples also became hard. He said look at you, five foot four and one hundred pounds. You are what every man wants. I said but I'm not every man's I'm yours. I managed to change the subject by telling him I felt uncomfortable talking about this. A couple of days later Barry came home from work and asked me if I felt like going to the mall. I asked for what? He said he just felt like looking around, and that he wanted me to wear my tennis skirt. Before I objected he said I want you to show off your. Too much like incest or something, until I remembered how it felt when he'd smelled my hair. John wasn't like my brother. He was closer than my family, and different. And I wanted him in the worst way.Which translated into manic babble in the back of the cab. With my anxiety replaced by lust, I couldn't stop talking, until without saying a word he shut me down. It was gentle, and patient, but it was a command, of that there was no doubt. And it worked. It stilled me, and I didn't say a word the rest of the cab ride. My mind was buzzing, working on what he'd said. That we needed to talk (ominous, but his tone of voice didn't sound ominous) and this wasn't the place. Yeah, that made sense. Cabs aren't really the place for serious conversation, but I hadn't even really noticed the driver anyway. All my focus was on John. So I grabbed his hand, and then found that I felt better the more I leaned up against him, so by the time we got to the restaurant, I had plastered myself to his side.
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