I Hope We Don't Get Caught

Let's talk about sex in public.

(Eep!) *Giselle scurries far, far away. Giselle peeks her head out, sighs, and then drags her feet back to the computer*

Okay...I've written about public sex quite a lot. In THE BIRTHDAY GIFT and TANGLED ROOTS, I wrote about the exhilaration of being naked outdoors in the summer sun. In ONDINE, I described a ballerina's fear of being scolded by the Mistress when her fellow ballet student turns her on during lessons. In KANDINSKY'S SHIRT BUTTON, I included an under-the-table handjob in a fancy restaurant. You might think I enjoyed getting it on in public.

I don't.

I did when I was younger. Correction: when I was younger, I had fewer options. When I was young I didn't have a place of my own, of course. I came from a large family and had little privacy. Sexual experiences were relegated by default to a bit of rubbing in a public park, or in the woods, or in a parked car. And back then, of course, I was so overwhelmed by hormones that I didn't give a good gosh-darn if a dog walker, or a family of humans, or a family of wolves passed by. The sex drive overpowered the social propriety fight-or-flight response.

That was then. This is now. This is Giselle among the grown-ups. Oh no...I just looked in the mirror, and I'm not entirely certain, but I think I might be one of them! Career, apartment, steady relationship, 2.5 cats...yup, I'm an adult all right. *sighs* Well, we all knew this was coming.

And with that security, for me, has come the fear of getting caught.

Now, I happen to have a partner who pushes my limits. I can't even begin to tell you all the bizarre places we've had a go at each other and yet Sweet claims she's no exhibitionist. She has little interest in public sex, but early in our relationship she hit on this area of vulnerability for me and chose to exploit it. This, she freely admits. Nice girl, huh? But we've always had a smidgen of a D/s thing going on, and I love the power she wields over me.
So...I've been procrastinating a bit by telling you all that. There's a story I want to tell you, and I'm working myself up to it. *Giselle takes a deep breath* Okay, I think I'm ready.

I think we got caught.

The other day Sweet had me alone. We were indoors in a place where every door was not only unlocked but wide open. Very restricted privacy. People would be arriving any moment. These impending arrivers knew us, but not as a couple (I might have mentioned Sweet is still very much in the closet) and I take my job of protecting her secrets very seriously.

But she's bad. Oh, that girl is just bad, bad, bad. Right out in the open, she set her hand between my thighs. She started rubbing. And she said what she always says: "I can stop if you want me to."

Oh, that vixen! Once she's got her hands on me, I can never tell her to stop. Even though I'm scared to death of being caught and facing all the consequences, all the repercussions, all the embarrassment...it feels so good. And it's not just how it feels. It's a battle of wills. If I tell her to stop, she wins. Maybe I'm not such a good sub after all. Maybe I don't like to lose.

We were in a very open room, and even so, clothes came off. Not two minutes later, we heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. They were right inside the building. I know we heard them at the same time because we both stopped what we were doing and dressed fast. By the time the lurker arrived before us, we were fully clothed, yes, but looking extremely shifty.

The lurker knew. I'm sure of it. You can tell when somebody's nervous around you by the evasive gestures and the lack of eye contact. What's worse, I'm sure the lurker saw something, and if not saw, certainly heard. And I don't know yet if those moments of questionable resolve will have consequences.

As I said, I don't like public sex. The hands tracing flesh, tearing off clothing, racing hearts, whispered words, suppressed cries...oh...oh no, I don't like that one bit.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!