Not far from my downtown office, there’s a coffee place in a public plaza. I like the outdoor seating there because I can look up and remind myself the sky still exists.

But on a day not so long ago, the outside environment wasn’t what had grabbed my attention. A woman in a pearl-buttoned black jacket, snug black skirt, heels and a chic pair of sunglasses was sitting two tables away, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

She was one of those people who exuded elegance even when sitting still. She sat with poise, with every lovely plane of her face held in just the right position to convey grace, beauty and a whole slew of other enticing qualities.

OK, I was smitten. I tried not to stare because I don’t make a habit of making women uncomfortable. But my cock couldn’t help but stir in my slacks. She elicited a tingling thrill within me.

She looked almost like someone from another time, a femme fatale from a classic noir flick. She exuded style, polish and maybe a hint of danger — but fun danger, I sensed. But maybe I was letting myself get carried away by a fantasy.

Her head was held in almost complete stillness as she took measured sips of her steaming brew. Her eyes stayed hidden behind her designer shades. I couldn’t help but wonder if she might be stealing looks at me, like I was with her.

But I swatted myself mentally:Why would she be checking out a random office drone like me?

When she stood, it was with the physical grace I expected. But what I didn’t expect was her pulling the sunglasses down her nose and giving me an intense look for about three seconds, during which time my pulse shot up and my cock stiffened even more.

She turned, taking something from her pocket. As she clicked smartly away on her high heels, I saw to my surprise a white linen handkerchief fluttering over her shoulder.

Instinctively, I sprang from my chair and caught the hankie before it touched the ground. It was embroidered with the initials: “J.K.” My imagination seized on the two letters before I remembered to look up to see where she’d gone.

The plaza had gotten busy all of a sudden. I scouted around frantically for her, finally seeing her exiting at one end. I hastened after her, not even sure what I was doing.

Well, it was obvious what I was doing: I was bringing the woman the handkerchief she’d dropped. It was what dashing men did in old movies. Either that or I was trapped in some weird vaudeville routine.

I ran to the end of the plaza and halted. She could have gone any number of ways from there. I looked up and down the cross streets. Too many pedestrians, too much traffic. I’d probably already lost her. The thought filled me with disappointment.

But no! There she was, ascending the stairs to the elevated train station. Even at my distance I could see the delectable back and forth swish of her ass packed into that tight skirt.

I almost got creamed by a taxi as I raced to the stairs, going up them three at a time. I had no thought of going back to the office. A lady had lost her handkerchief. I had to get it back to her!

When I reached the platform, a train was just pulling out. Damn. I didn’t see her anywhere. As I turned, dejected, to go back down, I spotted a figure in black across the tracks on the other platform. It was her.

She looked straight at me, then backed away from the other waiting passengers, into the deep shadows of the overhang. There she unsnapped the top buttons of her jacket.

She wore nothing beneath. The sight of the upper swells of her tits was glorious. It changed the whole dynamic of whatever was going on between us. She made sure I saw, going so far as to furtively fondle herself. Of the few people on the platform, I was the only one who noticed what she was doing.

I was about to go back down the stairs to cross to the other side when another train pulled in on her side. To my horror she got on. She pressed herself against a door, facing me, with breasts still spilling halfway out of her open jacket. She mouthed something. I strained to make it out, desperate for what I should do next.

As the train rumbled away, she turned around, lifted her black skirt and revealed the bare globes of her ass. I could’ve shot my load right there. But no, I would save it for her. I would find her. This wasn’t vaudeville, then. It was burlesque.

I thought she had mouthed to me: “Next station.”

I still had her handkerchief in hand. I stuffed it in a pocket and went down to cross over. I waited eight minutes for the next train. It was an eternity.

Finally, that train pulled into the next station along the line. I got out, looking all around, aware that this chase might come to nothing but hoping there would be more to it.

I stepped out onto the platform, casting a glance about. No sign of her. Images of her tits and naked ass burned in my brain. I took a deep breath and looked again.

And there she was.

She’d drawn the sunglasses down her nose in that sexy way again and was smiling directly at me. She stood at a niche that led to the public restrooms. As I moved toward her, she stepped back, fading into shadow once again.

When I got to the niche, I saw the door of the ladies’ restroom sighing shut and a flash of black skirt. I took the biggest chance of my life, rushing over and pulling the door open.

She was there. The tiled space was otherwise unoccupied. Her smile was pure sultry sensuality. I went to her, and she grabbed my shirtfront and towed me unceremoniously into one of the four stalls along the wall. She latched the door shut behind us.

I inhaled her cool perfume. I felt the crackling sexual presence of her, then so close it raised goose pimples on me. She tugged off her shades, revealing beautiful, penetrating eyes. She lunged forward, and in seconds, our mouths were glued together.

Her nimble tongue dipped greedily between my lips, and I met it eagerly. Her hands were already moving on me, and mine hurried to catch up.

She quickly undid my shirt, and I opened the rest of her jacket’s buttons. The garment dropped off her shoulders, and she pressed her bare tits against my chest as I shook off my shirt. Her fingers got busy at my slacks as I hooked my thumbs in her skirt’s waistband and peeled it down her legs. Soon enough I was out of my pants, and we were both naked in the toilet stall.

Cool air flowed over my exposed flesh, making me shiver. But I was hotter than I’d ever been in my life. I groped the woman’s lush breasts, plucking at her stiff nipples. She caressed my chest and stomach, and her touch was electric.

I sat down on the edge of the seat. She grabbed the tops of the stall walls for balance and flung a shapely leg over my shoulder. Her shaved pussy was inches from my face.

I wasted no time. I brought my mouth to her gleaming cunt, licking her up and down. I expected some audible response from her, but then I remembered we were in a public place. At any second someone could come pounding on our stall door. We had to be discreet.

Nonetheless, I was gratified to see her expression of pleasure when I jammed my tongue up into her. Her clitoris pulsed like a separate living thing, and I lavished attention on the slick nub. She abruptly shook as a silent orgasm coursed through her, filling me with a perverse sense of accomplishment.

She moved to reverse our positions. I found myself standing before her as she sat. Her open mouth dropped down onto my stiff cock. I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out.

Her tongue raced up and down my staff as her mouth rode my pole. I gazed down, delighted to see my cock repeatedly disappearing into her face. Setting my fingertips on her shoulders, I started matching her rhythm by stroking into her mouth. My balls softly slapped her chin.

I could barely believe what was happening. I was face-fucking a beautiful woman in a public restroom.

It was the sexual thrill of a lifetime.

Damn, I was glad I’d gone out for coffee during my lunch break!

Before she could take me over the top, she pulled her mouth away, stood, turned around and bent over. With her legs spread and her hands braced against the wall, she thrust her naked ass back at me.

Again, no time for niceties. I stepped in, pressed my cockhead to her slickened cleft and jammed myself into her pussy.

Her back arched in a way that should’ve been accompanied by a cry of passion. But she stayed silent. I planted my stance, gazing rapturously at the bare ass I’d earlier admired from afar.

With my hands closed over those fleshy spheres, I sank all the way inside her. Her snatch was tight and warm. I started out with a steady, stroking tempo. She rocked back against me, encouraging me to move faster.

I obliged, fucking her more intensely and driving deep — pounding her hard as I hit the point of no return. She began quaking, her head shaking wildly from side to side. Her reaction set me off, and my come erupted as pleasure overwhelmed me.

After we hastily dressed, she paused to use a metal nail file on the stall wall, gouging a mark where there were dozens more. I grinned, glad to be one of those marks.

Before we snuck out, I handed over that handkerchief, saying gallantly: “Miss, did you drop this?”