“Bathroom,” you whisper, disappearing into the men’s room. Ah, shit. Here we go…I check myself in the mirror. My long red-brown hair is down i... softly tousled waves. My brown eyes are framed by dark brown liner and black mascara. My makeup is fairly neutral, except for my lips. Earlier tonight I’d put on a deep burgundy – almost black lipstick, with a mid-length dress that matched. I’m ready.No sooner did I enter the men’s room did I feel your hand in my hair. You curl your fingers at the nape. She handed him a pair of beige thigh high stockings, which hequickly pulled on. She then told him to get dressed again because theyhad to go out instructing him to wear his own clothes (and his wife'spanties), except for his socks. When he was dressed his nervousness hadreturned, along with urgency in his bladder. The latter had not beenhelped by the two glasses of tepid water that she made him chug-a-lugupon his arrival."Please Mistress, may I use the toilet?" he asked."I think you can. More

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