Hermione was frozen, but it was less about the situation and more about the intense feelings that were invading her in a wholesale manner. She had never thought that a soft touch could drive her crazy this much.
And he was just touching the back of her hand.
He kept his hand for a lingering moment, but that didn't matter much.
"Now, a similar touch, just to keep the customers happy," he whispered, and Hermione found herself responding. Her hand landed on the back of his hand, lingering until her fingertip was unable to handle it, then she pulled back.
She found herself thanking the existence of the glasses. Without them, she would have been lost. She still remembered Candy describing them as striking … and considering what else he had on display, she was really afraid of how his eyes could be even more striking.
Once again, she ignored that as he put his finger on her body, this time her forearm, lingering up slowly, a far less innocent touch. Yet, she said nothing. "Try to flirt. A smile is a good way to show you acknowledge the touch," he whispered.
And Hermione found herself smiling, but she avoided the mirror. She found it was easier to smile if she ignored the mirror, and how she looked at the moment. The smile from a bookworm was much more innocent.
Especially since she was still trying to convince herself that she was a student teaching with her professor.
"Very good," he whispered.
"Thank you, sir," she answered, shivering once his smile widened.
He said nothing else, just dragging his fingers over innocent parts of her body while she tried to resist the sensation.
It was difficult, and got even more difficult when he touched her knee. It was an innocent touch, she repeated several times in mind, helped by the fact that the stockings were there to blunt the sensation, but that still didn't change the fact that she was being touched by a stranger.
A stranger that she was allowed to rebuff, she remembered as she put her hand on his wrist, and gently pushed his hand away.
He opened his mouth, and for a moment, Hermione was afraid she would get kicked out, but luckily, the scathing answer she feared didn't come. "Not bad, but try to maintain a smile."
And just like that, his finger was back on her leg, this time just an inch higher. The only problem, this time he wasn't touching her stocking, but her naked skin. It shouldn't make too much of a difference, but it did. Hermione felt her breath disappearing as his fingers moved up, unable to react.
Only when they reached the middle of her thigh, she reacted, pushing his hand away panicked, the sound of a slap clear in the room.
And in panic, the smile that was supposed to be there never arrived. "Sorry, sir, I was just overwhelmed for a moment," she found herself saying. "I'm very excited about this job, and for a moment, I reacted badly."
That didn't earn his approval, as shown by his lack of a smile.
"I will do better, sir. I'm just a bit unclear on how many touches I should allow as a waitress."
"Your call, just not anything that would actually bring a problem with the vice squad," he answered, which didn't help her blush any. That guideline was much laxer than she expected. Luckily, she held control. "But you disappoint me, forgetting something I had already explained."
"I'm sorry, sir," she gasped, this time feeling despair in her tone. She had always been a good student, and being admonished like that was not something she was ready to handle. She hoped that he would say something to forgive her.
He did not. "Try better," he ordered as he put his hand on her leg, but this time, his fingers didn't land softly, but exploded against her skin hard like a slap. She opened her mouth to argue, but the tightness of his mouth showed that it was about paying her back for an earlier slap.
She had no choice but to admit she deserved it. But the writing of that spank that left a small, pink welt on her leg didn't solve her problems when his hands started to move up. A smile was hard to conjure. Her expression twisted, her lips rebelling against her orders.
There was no chance she could ever conjure a smile.
She needed to find a better way. But she wasn't being called the brightest witch of her generation for nothing, so a solution was immediately apparent. Instead of pulling back, she leaned in, putting her hand on his chest while whispering in his ear.
A smile was hard to come, but a throaty tone was much easier, especially when he felt her hand around her waist. Her naked waist, with nothing to limit his touch, destroyed her thoughts even worse.
"You're being naughty, sir. Do you mind if I go and bring your drink to cool you off," she whispered, trembling as she did so.
"Very good," he answered, the smile back on his face, and Hermione found herself smiling as well. She was a good student. Unfortunately, that smile trembled once she realized not only he had not pulled his hand away from her waist, but also it was climbing upward.
Hermione didn't know what to do. She had never been touched like that. That didn't mean her fiancee went places that were naughtier — her chest, for example, though it was over her bra — but every time he touched her, there was a hurry to it, like he was racing to reach a destination.
She didn't remember him caressing her sides, or anywhere, with such a soft touch, leaving burning tracks behind. She didn't know what to do.
Every second she spent thinking, his fingers climbed upward … and not just on her waist, but also on her leg. Particularly on her inner thigh.
Then, he spoke once more. "Very good, every man wants to think he's the first one that touches a woman erotically for the first time. If you can bring that expression every time, your bounty might even break a record."
His voice only pulled her deeper into the weird mood she was in. She found herself leaning forward, and if her gaze hadn't slipped toward the mirror, she might have actually done … no she didn't want to think what she would have done if it wasn't for her gaze noticing how she looked in the mirror.
"Thank you for your compliment, sir," she said as she stood up. Maybe a bit harsher than necessary, but if he had thought so, he didn't speak about it. "Now, what would you prefer."
"I'm feeling something sharp in order. A tasty thing from Scotland…" he whispered, and Hermione froze, thinking that her background was revealed, and it was a reference to Hogwarts. Luckily, she noticed him looking somewhere behind her. She turned to see a minibar next to the mirror.
"A scotch coming up right away, sir," she whispered, trying to sound throaty to hide her pointless panic.
She turned and started walking away. It took all her willpower to prevent her from running. She was aware of just how little that skirt was covering while she was standing still, and walking made it worse. Not to mention, he was still sitting.
"Focus, Hermione," she whispered to herself as she started sauntering, just like Candy had taught in their lesson. Even with his sunglasses, she could see his gaze on her ass — the mirror helpful to track his gaze — but for once, she was glad being ogled this directly.
It meant he wasn't focusing on her panic.
Soon, she had another challenge. How to position herself as she poured the drink. Common sense told her to bend her knees to minimize the impact of her skirt … but after her earlier blunders, she was afraid that she hadn't done enough to earn the waitress job.
She decided to do something impressive … a decision that had absolutely nothing to do with the way her skin tingled under his gaze. She bent forward, aware that, by doing so, she had just displayed almost all of her ass, except the small patch that was covered by her deficient lacy underwear.
Her sudden surge of pride was about nearing completing the mission, and nothing else.
Certainly not.
Confident, she poured the drink and placed the decanter back, then put the glass on the silver tray. Grabbing it, she turned her back, ready to give another show.
At that moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He was going to take a photo, she realized panickedly, but it was a panic that only stiffened her back. If she was going to be photographed…
Then, he started typing something on his phone, and something shifted in her once again. Panic was gone, replaced by … inadequacy. Even when dressed like this, she wasn't enough to hold the attention of a man.
Hermione bit her lip as she considered the moment, but unlike every other time she had been threatened by the lack of attention, this time she decided to fight. The reflection in the mirror demanded so.
As she walked forward, she made two quick changes in her outfit. First, she tugged the waist of her skirt higher, revealing even more of her legs … and other things. Second, she tugged down her top, enhancing her cleavage from sexy to downright indecent.
For the mission, she repeated in her mind, again and again, like a mantra, as she walked up to him, her feet clacking on the floor threateningly.
She managed to raise his head by the third step, and he started watching her intently, one that sent shivers over her body as she closed the distance. He didn't say anything, nor did she, standing in front of him.
He was looking at her, though his gaze was significantly lower than her face, examining everything that was not covered by her panties. A thrill went through her as she looked down … then her gaze was caught by his phone screen.
The last message, confirming a meeting with Mr. White tomorrow evening, in a private room.
Sent by Harry Potter!