We had arranged to meet for dinner at the exquisite 4 star restaurant “The Terrace” to celebrate your recent promotion at work. Executive marketing director. You sounded thrilled over the phone when you called to tell me, and I was thrilled for you. You had been working so hard to move up in the ranks and your well earned success was finally coming to you. Our reservations were at 8:30 but you texted me just as I arrived at the restaurant to inform me that you would be a little late…”Will b a few mins late. Dreadful business attire. Slipping n2 something else. Wait 4 me?”.
The hostess approached just as I texted back a quick “Of course, don’t be long” and clicked my phone closed. “Reservations?” she asked with that honey sweet inflection most hostess’s have. “Yes, I called for an 8:30 reservation, Nichols?”. She scanned the reservation list and found my name and inquired about the reservation being for two. “My girlfriend is running a little late, she’ll be arriving soon” and with a far too bubbly “wonderful! Right this way” she led me to a candlelit table in a dim corner of the sparsely populated restaurant.
The restaurant was beautiful. Sparkling, immaculate crystal light fixtures hung like giant diamonds from the ceiling, though for their size, the lighting they offered was minimal. Perfectly pressed, pristine linen tablecloths covered every table…candles casting dancing shadows onto their surface. The ambiance of the room was dark, sultry, romantic.
I sat down at the table and took the initiative to order a bottle of wine while I waited for you to arrive—23 minutes and a glass and a half later you appeared. I paused mid-sip of my wine to drink you in, my dark eyes flickering, a smile forming at the rim of my glass before I sat it down on the table, enraptured by the sight standing before me. You were wearing a dangerously short black skirt that clung to your curves like a second skin. As if the length of the skirt weren’t tempting enough, a provocative slit up the side provided the most delicious glimpse of the top of your smooth, toned thigh. I felt my breath catch in my chest for a moment as my eyes continued boldly roaming over your frame, devouring you. Your blouse was a delicate, sheer black number with a low plunging neckline that showcased your cleavage perfectly, and the most subtle outline of your nipples was apparent beneath.
“Wow! You are looking positively scrumptious!” I exclaimed as I rose from the table chivalrously, hugging you then placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as I pulled out a seat for you, next to mine…rather than the cold, impersonal “across the table” kind of dining, I preferred dining with you as close to me as possible, it’s always been that way. I want, no, I need your presence near me, your mere proximity does something indescribable to me…you slid into your seat with the majestic gracefulness of a slick feline, you carry sexy so well. Your full lips spread into an ingratiating smile as an almost shy giggle escaped you and you averted your eyes to say “Thank you, I’m sorry I kept you waiting…it’s a special occasion, I just wanted to dress it up a little”. I slid into the seat beside you, returning your smile with a warm smile of my own “No apologies baby, it’s your night, I’ve would’ve waited as long as I had to in order to celebrate it with you”…with that declaration I leaned towards you and placed a lingering kiss on your cheek and whispered “congratulations” into your ear. You squirmed in your seat a little as the heat of my breath kissed your earlobe and another smile danced across my lips. I sat back up straight in my chair and poured you a glass of wine and then topped off my own. We sipped and talked as we waited for our server to appear, our body language, our smiles, the range of looks passed between us would tip off any attentive observer that you and I were much more than friends. Though, I didn’t really care who may be observing our exchange, I was lost in you…no one existed in my world right now, but you.
Dinner was exquisite. We picked at our food as the wine flowed freely, making lustful eyes at each other as we ate…feeding each other a bite here and there for the simple pleasure of watching the other take the food from the sparkling silver dinnerware—eyes locked as an electric passion was silently conveyed between us. Feeding each other is such a sensual, sexual act to me.
As we ate my hand would slip beneath the table and rest on your mostly exposed thigh, squeezing my fingertips into your flesh gently. I would smile as my fingertips fluttered lightly, tracing intricate patterns on your thigh and playfully reaching higher as you looked around nervously. “What are you doing?!” you asked, your voice thick with false indignation at the very same time your lips curled up in what you thought was a discreet smile. But I saw it, nervous though you may be…you were enjoying my secret explorations beneath the table—hidden, yet fully exposed to the other wandering eyes in the restaurant.
The only response I gave you was a wry, little smile…I was going to keep going, until you verbally told me to stop, and meant it or until….
You continued to pick over your food, trying to maintain an air of innocence above the table as my hand moved deftly upward beneath the table, a gentle, warm, flat palm against the inside of your thigh, urging them quietly apart. You shifted in your seat, nervousness gripping you once more and you squeezed your thighs shut, trapping my searching hand between them for a moment. I gazed into your eyes, my dark, adoring eyes speaking to you, urging you…coaxing you with the depth of desire in my stare.
I bit my bottom lip and gave my fingers a wiggle between your thighs, and slowly you released your grip on my hand, your toned legs parting as your reservations crumble beneath my craving. I watched your face closely as my fingers traced their way up your creamy flesh, your heat radiating so strongly that I could feel how hot you were before ever touching your sex. I smiled at you, picking up my wine glass with my left hand and taking a sip...in order to avert any suspicious eyes, or perhaps the excitement of the moment just had me feeling slightly parched.
