What would he do to me?
My thighs rubbed together eagerly.
What wouldn't he do!
I looked for something hot on my computer. Anything. I had a few photos saved in a special directory marked “Minutes from Meetings,” and I pulled the photos up into a slideshow.
The first photograph was in black and white, of a fully dressed woman in thigh-high stockings, being greeted at the door by a man in a suit. He said hello to her by putting one firm hand under her skirt.
I put my hand down my sweatpants and got busy.
The second photo was a woman, naked, in a narrow hallway, with one man in front of her and one behind her. That photo nearly blew my mind the first time I saw it, and it did the trick this time as well.
The slideshow continued, through a collection of photographs ranging from tasteful and erotic to down and dirty, with nasty-looking girls with smeared makeup getting firmly rooted by hard-looking men.
As I circled around and around my clit, moving faster and pressing down harder, I thought about big cocks, plunging in and out of me, and a man moaning, as hot jets of his seed sprayed into me, making my pu**y even hotter and wetter.
In my imagination, the men had cocks like firehoses, blasting hotness into me. It was weird, but I was sure men had even weirder fantasies.
Five hours later, the taxi dropped me off in front of the restaurant for my date with Mr. Thorne. My date? Hell, yes, this was a date. We were dating.
I wore a black pencil skirt and a new blouse, in a deep purple hue of eggplant. I'd spent ages on my hair and makeup, which was silly, considering we'd be eating in the dark, but I figured we'd do something after dinner, in the light, and he could see me then.
The taxi pulled away, and I was alone, on the sidewalk.
I'd been to the place once before, but that was back before it had turned into the strange dine-in-the-dark restaurant. At one point, as recently as a year ago, it had been a family restaurant, with schnitzel for the fathers, spaghetti for the kids, and lots of salads with heavy dressings for the mothers.
My stomach grumbled, and I tried to remember what I'd eaten that day. Had I eaten anything since breakfast? Possibly not, if you didn't count candy, and nobody counts candy.
I tried to peer in the windows, but they were blocked and blacked out, to keep the outside streetlights and car headlamps from lighting the place up, I guessed.
I wondered if there were a few candles or night lights inside, like you'd see in a movie theater, for safety. No, probably not. I'd read reviews saying the place truly was pitch-black, but the food was divine.
My heart started to pound. I was afraid, but I didn't know if I was more afraid of being in the restaurant, being in the dark, or being there with … Mr. Thorne.
I'm not afraid of the dark, but it's natural to have an aversion, I think. We have eyes and sight for a reason.
I wondered what would happen at dinner. Or after dinner.
Mr. Thorne couldn't take me back to his place, because he'd made some ridiculous bet with Grace, the woman he worked with. He'd promised he wouldn't date any girls for three months, of which it had been less than one month. I didn't know what the details of the bet were, but he seemed unwilling to get caught and pay the price.
I'd cleaned up my condo, assuming we'd go back there. We'd already had sex once already, so even if we were starting from square one, I wasn't planning to be that coy. I'd put fresh sheets on the bed, so he wouldn't smell Jacob.
I was getting hot between my legs again, anticipating messing the sheets up with sweat and sex with Mr. Thorne.
I entered the restaurant and found, to my relief, there were candles.
To the attractive woman standing inside, I said, “Thank goodness there's some light! Phew!”
“Oh, just here in the lobby,” she said. “You'll look at the menu here, place your order, and then I will guide you to your seat.”
“Really.”
She nodded. “And what's your name?”
“Lexie Ross.”
She looked at the computer screen and said, “Your party's already seated.”
That figured, since I was about ten minutes late, due to traffic and a slow taxi driver who wanted to chat me up while checking me out in the rear view mirror.
I said, “Is my party a gentleman?”
She laughed. “Don't you know who you're meeting?”
I felt shameful and slutty, but I asked anyway. “Does he have black hair or silver hair?”
She raised her eyebrows and gave me a cheeky look. “Black. Wavy. Green-brown eyes. Strong jaw and brow line, a real man's man.”
“That's my lover,” I said, smiling. “He likes to play games, so he made me think I might be meeting one of his business colleagues here tonight.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “It's just the two of you, and you're in a private room.”
“Private room?”
Some other people walked in the door, talking excitedly.
The girl beckoned me closer to her and said, “Officially, it's a room that isn't on the building plans. It doesn't exist. But if it did exist, people could do anything they wanted in there. And you have it booked for the entire evening.”
I fanned one hand over my blushing face. “Of course,” I said.
She then handed me a tablet from the stack on her little podium, and showed me how to use my finger to scroll through the menu. “Just click the things you want, and the order goes in to the kitchen.”
“Wow,” I said, admiring the technology. Those tablets weren't cheap, and the restaurant had a pile of them, instead of menus. The prices weren't visible on my screen, which meant I didn't want to know what the things cost! Thank goodness I wasn't picking up the tab for this one, or my entire week's earnings from admiring and organizing Mrs. Chong's precious ceramics would be completely wiped out.
The hostess led me through a dark corridor, and then through a velvet curtain. I blinked several times, but still couldn't see anything.
I said to the hostess, whispering, “Is this safe? Don't you need to have the EXIT signs illuminated? Like for fire safety?”
My friend Jacob, the fireman, would have been horrified to see how dark the restaurant was. Just horrified! It was a shame I couldn't tell him about it, but part of our arrangement as casual friends and occasional lovers was we didn't talk about other people. We kept things safe between us, of course, because Jacob had a lot of other lovers besides me. I didn't mention the condom when I was recalling our last tryst, but we did use one. (And then, another one.) I used condoms a lot, but I omit the detail from my stories and from my memory, because it's just hotter that way.