Yankee Amateur Honey Amber Chase Pleasuring Herself

People are oblivious to the psychological warfare going on at the table tucked away in the corner. Nobody’s looking at the woman staring at the table, with her left hand on a small box, and her right hand holding an even smaller square of white paper. ‘I’m not telling you’, came the answer when she asked, understandably enough, what was inside. ‘Don’t you like it?’
She can’t look at him. She moves the box closer. He’s right. With that, she precision-places the small square of paper on the table in front of him, turns, and walks off. Waiters desperately ignore patronising conversation from idiotic men trying to show they know something about wine to their disinterested dates. ‘Don’t you like it?’
She can’t look at him. Fuck. OK, arrogance. Rude. Tall, with her coat on, his breath catches in his throat. It makes a distinct pop as she presses it open with her thumb.