The Restaurant_(0)

The Restaurant – By Badgurl



I really didn’t want to go out, not for another dull meal in another dull restaurant, just like we do week after week, but he insisted and at least it gave me an opportunity to wear the new dress he bought me. I say he bought me, but I chose it. Left up to him I’d be wearing cardigans and Sunday school dresses.
You see my boyfriend doesn’t like me wearing stuff that shows off my body, he’s scared I’ll get too much male attention. But a girl like me needs to feel sexy, to know that guys are looking at me, wanting me, fantasizing about me, even if they have no chance of ever having me, after all I am in a relationship.
I slide the red satin over me and admire myself in the mirror. I love the way it clings to my body, caressing my skin so smoothly over my slender waist and curved hips, how the halter neck pushes up my big firm breasts into a deep cleavage, and the slit from the waist allows a tantalizing glimpse of long stocking clad leg with every step right from the upper thigh. At least if he can’t make me feel sexy my dress certainly will.
I heard the blast of the horn from the impatient taxi driver and after a disapproving shake of my boyfriend’s head we headed on the short, silent journey to the restaurant. Once there the helpful waiter showed us to our table. As I strode confidently by his side, high heels clicking rhythmically on the tiled floor I could already sense the admiring glances from the men in the room. I smiled as a warm feeling settled through me and we took our seats and began inspecting the menus.
I ordered the Lamb, and insisted on a disgracefully expensive wine to go with it, ‘If I have to endure this I’ll do so in style.’ I thought to myself. We sipped wine and made pointless small talk while we waited for our starters, and I glanced casually around the room.
All I saw was a room full of equally dull men with their wives, girlfriends and mistresses looking equally bored, but as our starter arrived I noticed you to the side, sitting alone, enjoying a meal, and by the way your eyes were fixed on my body, enjoying the view as well. You looked up making eye contact then quickly looked away realizing you had been caught eyeing me up. I maintained my gaze until you looked up again and give you a smile. You smile back a little embarrassed but had no need to be, I wanted you to look.
I casually avert my eyes and while I use the soup spoon on my starter with one hand the other slides slowly down my dress, easing the soft satin from my thigh and giving you a long slender leg to feast your eyes on.
My occasional glances in your direction confirm that your gaze is fixed to me, running up and down my body. I slide my free hand up my thigh again, slowly and tenderly while responding to my boyfriend’s unimaginative small talk. But it’s you who have my attention now, and I know I have yours.
I begin to wonder what is running through your mind. Whether you are imagining how it would feel to have my thighs wrapped tightly around you, fantasizing about making love to me gently and passionately, or whether mentally you are fucking me hard and fast.