Dining Alone

He carefully put down his knife and fork, dabbing his mouth with the napkin, then setting it beside the finished plate. He looked at her evenly. "So," he said, "tell me about your first experience with another woman."

* * * *

She had come to London full of expectation. A new job- well, same company, but a different role- and best of all, lots of travelling and no bloody staff. She would be visiting branches of the firm around the country, checking work and processes, and for a reason she couldn't quite fathom Sarah felt free. She had worked in the same building for 15 years. She knew every stain in the carpet, every crack in the wall, and sometimes it drove her crazy.

* * * *

"What kind of question is that?" Sarah stared, taken aback. "You have known me what, less than two hours, you think you know all about me. You should not presume so much." He said nothing. Still looking her in the eye, he sipped slowly from his wineglass.

Despite herself, Sarah was intrigued by this man. More than intrigued, to tell the truth.

"What makes you think I have had an experience, as you put it, with another woman? Not all women are secret lesbians."

His face was impassive. "I think maybe you are no stranger to a little daring, a little risk. Not every woman would have agreed to dinner with a man she did not know."

He was right, the bastard, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. An idea came to her. "I tell you what," she said. "You tell me about your first experience with a man, and maybe I'll see if there's anything to tell."

He gazed at her curiously, she thought, as a spider might regard a fly twitching in its web.

"Very well," he said.

* * * *

Two days earlier, the train had slowed as a disembodied voice announced the imminent arrival at Paddington. Sarah had closed her magazine, uncrossed her legs and prepared to retrieve her little suitcase. As she had stepped down to the platform, she became just another of thousands of commuters, ants in the contorted travel systems of the city, and she could not have been happier. She straightened her jacket, smoothed her skirt, and descended the short flight of steps into the Underground.

Two weeks' training in London, staying in a hotel, expenses, the works- she had been ecstatic. Sarah loved London. She had actually been born there, back in the dim and distant past, although they had moved with her dad's job when she was three. She often wondered what would have happened to her if they had stayed. Anyway, what was there to keep her away? It was two years since she and Chris had- well, two years since it had ended- and there had been no-one to keep her bed warm at night. Yes, there had been men, and she had enjoyed the taste of their lips, the touch of their bodies, their weight on hers, but none of them had made her feel, not where it counted. This was a new start and she hoped, maybe, she might find what she was looking for, whatever it was.

* * * *

"I was at boarding school," he began. "A cliché, but there you are. Hundreds of boys, becoming men, all together. It happens." Although he exuded his usual air of confidence, Sarah thought she could detect a hint of uncertainty behind his eyes. This was out of his comfort zone.

"I was sixteen. Yes, my father had money, but I was still young and did not know what that meant yet." He hesitated. "His name was Carlos. This was in England, but most of us were from overseas. Carlos was, I think, from Latin America, although I do not know the provenance of his family." He said this in a way that made it clear what he thought of Carlos' background.

"He was two years older and about to leave. It was clear he had been keeping an eye on me for some time. He picked his moment carefully, trapping me in an empty classroom when no-one else was around." He stopped abruptly. "The details are unimportant." He looked at Sarah. She looked right back, amused at his discomfort. "All right. I am not ashamed. I was unused to such attention, and I cannot say I did not find it pleasurable at the time, although it haunted me for a long time afterwards." He took another mouthful of wine, then continued, more confidently.

"He made no pretence of seduction, roughly shoving his hand down my pants and grabbing my penis. It was the first time anyone else had touched me sexually, and I was soon aroused. Before long, he was not satisfied. He pulled down my trousers and pants, then his own. I knew what he expected, and I handled his cock- it was much larger than mine- just as I would my own. You will not be surprised to hear that he also forced me to fellate him, or that once I had brought him to orgasm with my hands, his semen covering my clothes, he was no longer interested in me. It was the first and last time he bothered me."

It may have been long in the past, but she could tell he was glad to finish the story. When she looked at him again, though, all his confidence had returned- indeed there was a new hardness in his eyes. When he spoke again, there was an edge to his voice she had not heard before.

"After school, I gather Carlos went to work in Paris. I heard a few years later that he had been killed in an unfortunate accident. His car ran off the road and burst into flames. The cause was never found. Very sad."

Sarah looked at him wide-eyed. He met her stare, his eyes daring her to challenge him. "I think I have said enough. Suffice to say, I knew from that second that I would never be with another man. That summer, as I had passed my sixteenth birthday, my father arranged for me to visit a whore in Egypt." He smiled at her surprise. "It is something of a tradition in our culture. In our family, at least. This encounter opened my eyes. She was so gentle with me. I will never forget the softness of her skin, the curve of her breasts, the connection of the most intimate kind. I will not lie to you- I have spent much of the intervening years seeking to enjoy as many women as possible."

* * * *

Two hours earlier, she had left the training centre late, and as she was alone- the other trainees had all gone back to their lives in the suburbs- she had stopped for an early meal. Sarah was happy to eat alone- a newspaper was a handy prop but in truth she was content to be alone with her thoughts. She was a little disappointed with the course, which was progressing too slowly for her liking- Sarah absorbed new information quickly and liked to move on fast. Her fellow students were an unprepossessing lot, barely a spark of conversation between them. She had been expecting- what, exactly? People like her, who wanted to go out in the evenings, she supposed. But they were all from commuting distance and she was left on her own each evening.

She was waiting for her starter and pretending to read the paper- one of those free London sheets that end up discarded everywhere by the end of the day- when the waiter approached her.

"The gentleman over there would like to know if you would care to dine with him this evening," he said, a little nervously. Sarah laughed, and was about to dismiss this ridiculous suggestion out of hand, but her eyes followed where the waiter indicated. There were few other people in the restaurant at this early hour, but a few tables away, facing her, sat a man on his own. He was dark skinned, probably Middle Eastern, she thought. He looked about 50, with dark hair, greying at the temples which he made no attempt to hide. He was wearing what looked like a very expensive grey suit, a pristine white shirt, and a dark tie with flashes of colour. He was also extremely handsome.

What was clear was that he looked as if he owned the place. He was clearly loaded, and Sarah could feel an aura of confidence coming from him. He was also looking straight at her. He smiled, and stood up gracefully. On the spur of the moment, Sarah decided, fuck it, I've been a bit short of male company recently. She smiled and stood up, making her way across the restaurant.

He took her hand, with a barely perceptible bow of the head. "Call me Faroukh," he said simply. "I could not stand to see a woman eating alone. And I would very much enjoy some stimulating conversation with my meal."

"Sarah," she said, smiling at his formality. "That would be lovely."

"How fortunate for me that fate has brought you here," he said.

"Do you live in London?" Sarah asked. "Are you here on business?"

"Let us not dwell on business," Faroukh suggested. "There are so many things in the world to speak of. Let us talk about you."

"What about me?" Sarah was a little embarrassed.

Faroukh regarded her for a few moments. "You are not married," he said.

"Well, I'm not wearing a ring, that's not hard to spot," she teased him.

"I will do better," he smiled. He looked closely at her again. "You have had one lengthy relationship, I would say, but now you live alone- you have not had a partner for some time. Your clothes say you have come here straight from work. Your suit is of good quality, but from a department store, I would say- similarly your blouse and shoes. It is not hard to deduce therefore that you do not live in London, but in a provincial town, and that you are working here temporarily, and staying in a hotel. You are smart, which makes me think that you take your work seriously, and perhaps that you have recently started a new job."

Sarah felt herself going red that he should see through her so easily. She could divine almost nothing about him.

"That's very impressive," she admitted.

Faroukh shrugged nonchalantly. "It is of great importance that I am able to quickly understand people, what makes them tick, as you say." As food and wine had been brought to their table, Sarah noticed how attentive the waiting staff were. He seemed oblivious to it.

"This is not the first time you have eaten here," she observed.

He inclined his head. "You are right, of course. I am comfortable here."

There was something about the way he studied her, his attentiveness, that was extremely flattering. Sarah felt flushed. Maybe it was the wine, but she was finding him very attractive.

"This is, of course, the first time you have eaten here." She nodded. "Do you like the food?"

"Very much," she said, although in truth, she had not much noticed what she had eaten, the conversation had been so intense.

"You are not so comfortable, I think, tonight, because you are not in control. I apologise if I have embarrassed you."

"No, no, not at all," she said quickly, "I'm very much enjoying myself." She coloured again slightly, and was immediately furious with herself. If he could see right through her, he could certainly see that. As if reading her mind, he said gently,

"I, too, am pleased to have found such an excellent dining companion." His eyes lit up, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Perhaps I might venture a further observation."

He carefully put down his knife and fork, dabbing his mouth with the napkin, then setting it beside the finished plate. He looked at her evenly. "So," he said, "tell me about your first experience with another woman."

* * * *

After Faroukh's surprising revelations, Sarah thought it would be impolite not to share her own experience. The restaurant was filling up, and she was sure nearby diners would hear her, but emboldened by the wine and Faroukh's dark eyes encouraging her, she was ready to tell.

"I was 22," she began, "and I had been working in an office for more than a year. It was a great place to work then- there were loads of young people and the social life was great, we were out every weekend. Anyway, this one Friday night we all went out, because this woman, Diane, was leaving the job. She was older than me," Sarah smiled at the memory, "well, she must have been about 30, but it seemed old then. Tall, slim, with short, spiky blonde hair, she seemed so sophisticated to me. I really looked up to her. We'd had a meal, and a few drinks, and normally I'd have been up for going to a club, but someone suggested going back to Diane's for a few more drinks. Come to think of it, it was probably Diane. I was so naïve then.

"So, we go back there, maybe half a dozen of us, I have a couple more drinks and a joint is passed round. Before I knew it, it was two in the morning and the others were leaving, but I was too relaxed to go anywhere, sitting on the floor, my back against the sofa, listening to music. Diane came back from the door and sat on the floor beside me. I was wearing a strappy top and a short skirt- don't laugh, I was young and foolish. Diane had on- I'll always remember this- a white shirt, black waistcoat and black linen trousers, because I remember thinking as she sat down, she looks almost like a man in those clothes." Sarah shook her head.

"As I said, so naïve. She sat down next to me, right up close, but it seemed natural. We talked about the night out and the music, and so on, and then she took my hand and said to me, "you wrote in my card that you'd miss me." I said, all innocent, "well I will miss you. You've been fun to work with."

Sarah smiled to herself at that memory. "So Diane said quietly, "I'll miss you too." And she looked me in the eyes, and suddenly I had the strangest feeling, the exact feeling you get when you make a connection with someone, a sort of quick wrench in the stomach?" She looked at Faroukh for confirmation. He merely nodded, she presumed in agreement, but he did not speak.

At that moment the waiter arrived with coffee. Sarah waited while he poured, realising she had not even noticed coffee being ordered. Everything seemed to be happening by magic.

"I had only ever had this feeling with men before. I am sure she sensed what I felt, because before I could think about it, she leant towards me and softly kissed me on the lips, then leant back again to gauge my reaction." Sarah looked at Faroukh again. "To be honest, if I had been stone cold sober at that moment, it would probably have stopped right there. But the wine and the joint seemed to have made me open to, um, possibilities, I guess. I can't really explain it. I had never thought of another woman that way, not till that moment. I was not thinking like this then, though, I don't suppose I was thinking at all. Either way, Diane took my silence as assent. She kissed me again. Her lips were not unlike a man's, but she was so gentle. She stroked my hair with one hand, cupping my face with the other, kissing me again and again.

"Is this ok?" she said softly. I could only nod mutely. She gazed into my eyes as one hand began to trace a line down my side, slipping under my top and lightly stroking my back.

"Hesitantly, I reached for her face, then stroked her neck. She closed her eyes momentarily and murmured her appreciation. Her hand moved onto my stomach, making circles with her fingers. I tensed involuntarily, and she stopped for a moment. Her eyes met mine once more, but I did not want to stop. She gently pulled up my top. "Can I...?" Once again, I only nodded shyly, but I sat up. She lifted the top over my head and discarded it. More confidently, her eyes never leaving mine, she unbuttoned her shirt and slowly took it off with the waistcoat.

"She was not wearing a bra, and her small breasts were exposed, her nipples standing out. She looked at me defiantly. "Now you." As if in a trance, I reached behind me and unhooked my bra, shaking it from my shoulders. I suddenly felt inhibited and clutched the bra to my chest, but Diane took it from me. She leant in and kissed me once more, taking my breast in her hand, her thumb languidly circling my nipple. "I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, her forehead against mine."

Lost as Sarah was in the memory, the present, even the stranger with her, seemed unreal just then. The years rolled away and she was right back in that room with Diane.

"We lay down on the floor, our bodies entwined, and she explored my body with her hands. Slowly I lost any inhibitions I had left, and let myself discover her curves for myself, her soft skin, her hard nipples. She bent down and her lips, tongue, even teeth were all over me, sucking and biting my breasts and nipples. God, she was getting me really turned on. Her hand went up my skirt, fluttering over the top of my legs. I could not help but part my thighs, and her fingers touched me through my panties.

"So far I had not thought too much but this was definitely crossing a line, and again I hesitated. She looked up at me, but didn't take her hand away. Her insistent touch was so sexy right then.

"Let's go into the bedroom," she said. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

That was the trouble, I did want to. We stood up, and she led me by the hand. It was dark in her room, and Diane lit a candle to see by. Right there, in the flickering light, I undid my skirt and dropped it to the floor, then my panties went the same way. She slowly, sexily, removed her trousers and panties, and we lay down naked on the big double bed.

"My hand nervously traced a line down between her breasts, across her flat stomach, into the soft hair below and then further down. When I touched her between her legs for the first time, it was strange, but familiar- after all I had been touching my own for a long time. It was as if I already knew what to do. At the same time her fingers were performing magic on me, slipping into my wetness, rubbing me just how I liked it. We lay there, slowly masturbating each other as we both grew hotter and hotter, staring into each others' eyes. "I want to taste you," Diane panted eventually. "Please let me."

"She moved on top of me, her naked body against mine. Kissing me, she smiled like she had won a prize, then slithered down my body and between my legs. Tentatively at first, then with insistence, her tongue probed me, searching inside me, then firmly around my most sensitive place, tasting it with short, firm licks, building up the pressure. Her hands lifted my arse off the bed, pulling me hard upwards, as she took me into her mouth, sucking and nibbling at it. I gasped again and again at her touch, my back arching as the pleasure increased. Her hands snaked up to my breasts, kneading them and pinching my nipples. I couldn't take much more, I grabbed her head in my hands, bucking my hips, catching my breath in short, audible gasps. Then her hands ran down my body again, and I felt one finger inside me. Looking down, I could see that her other hand was between her own legs, rubbing herself furiously. Diane flicked her tongue at me again and again, and at last, Christ at last, I knew I was going over the edge. I couldn't breathe, there was a moment of exquisite anticipation, and then my orgasm crashed over me. "Ah, ah, ahh..." I stammered as my whole body was overloaded with sensation. I shuddered once, twice, then lay still, overcome with the moment.

"Diane moved up to lay next to me, grinning. "This is why we're alive, isn't it?" she said. "What else could make you feel like that?" Impulsively, I embraced her and kissed her deeply, our bodies entwined. This time there was no hesitation; my hand went straight between her legs. I touched her as I knew I liked to be touched, slowly, rhythmically, gazing at her face. Gradually, I increased the pressure and moved my fingers faster, inserting a finger here, sliding it around her soft folds there. Diane's eyes became unfocused, and her breathing shallower and quicker. She closed her eyes, and stroked me gently with her hand. Eventually, she made a few strangled cries, opened her eyes wide to look at me, and came hard and fast.

"Afterwards, she took me in her arms and held me close. I tried not to think about what the morning would bring, and pulling the duvet over us, we lay there entwined, adrift on the ocean, until we fell asleep.