We have time.
I check my watch.
Yeah, plenty of time.
I chuckle as she squirms on the balcony.
Fucking Mardi Gras.
Gotta love it.
Isabella blushes each time a woman flashes her tits and gets tossed a few strings of plastic, colorful beads.
I have her leather cuffs on her ankles, binding her to the balcony banister.
I sit behind her, drinking some tea and enjoying the view of her ass on display for me alone.
She’s hidden by the banister.
We’re at an angle where we can see all below us, see several of the balconies around us, but they can’t see very well into ours.
“Having fun, sweetheart?” I ask her.
She slaps her palms on the top of the banister.
“Hmph,” she says with a snort.
The music grows louder as the parade advances. The throngs of people mingling below, thickens.
A moment later, she fidgets.
I set my tea cup on the saucer at the table next to me. Very quietly, I pump the lube bottle next to it into my right hand and moisten it.
I saunter over to her, and once I’m up against her backside, I stroke her soft cheeks.
“A little chilly? Hmm?” I taunt her.
“Not anymore, Master,” she says.