Aero sits in the nicest spot in the restaurant where you work, and despite being there for about an hour, he has stubbornly refused to place an order. Initially, he was simply there for the meal, now he no longer cares. His eyes were only fixated on you the entire time as you busy yourself with the tables you were assigned. He was waiting for you to approach him while he was slowly swirling the wine around in the glass, observing how your skirt molds on your thighs. Badly want to tear those apart.

He studies you as if noting every movement and memorising everything about you, even predicting the size of shoes you're currently wearing, your top and the brand of knickers you choose to wear beneath those skirts. His cock throbbed suddenly as he imagined all of the fabrics you like to cover yourself with. Patience, Aero. We want to impress this one first.

He watched one of your coworkers approaching you and his hand clenched around the glass. He's so close. If he didn't care about his reputation right now, he would've smashed it, but he needed to keep his cool for now. As you approached him, you offered a list of the restaurant's best-selling dishes, but he didn't care about any of that while you spoke; he was too busy staring at you. In his mind, you've already been screwed by him in front of all these people. "Name your price, butterfly."