The Restaurant

Andrea twirled the pasta in a quick spiral around her fork as she listened to Mark expound on the day's events at his office. An estate attorney, his days were filled with tax shelter strategies in an ongoing cat and mouse game with the taxman. She wanted to create a disturbance; to shout; to somehow convey to Mark that she had no interest in the latest rich bastard he was diligently working to please. She was generally proud of him and his work but was tired of his days consuming their dinner conversations. She looked around the cozy restaurant and longed for an escape. Her eyes were caught by a handsome blond gentleman sitting at the table behind that of her and her husband. He was dining with a women; her back was to Mark and her face hidden from Andrea's view.

After a few moments of contemplating the attractive stranger Andrea realized with minor embarrassment that she had been staring directly at him for quite a few minutes. She smiled as if to offer an apology. His smile in return assured her that her attention had not gone unnoticed and his subtle wink (an invitation?) stirred the beginnings of excitement within her. Handsome and flirtatious. Mark was smiling at Andrea now, unaware that her smile was not a gift for him.

Andrea and the gentleman continued their visual game; she could not break away from his gaze. She lifted her champagne glass and let the last few drops slide down the back of her throat. It was cold and wet and tickled as it danced down her throat. The stranger's smile widened into a grin. She was now fully engaged with this new development and her pulse quickened as she waited for their situation to unfold. What harm was a bit of flirting with an seductive stranger? And God she could not remember the last time Mark had looked at her with such hunger. Once their sex play had been playful and spontaneous- a quick romp to interrupt a secluded picnic lunch, a gentle exploration of each others' bodies in the shower. But now...

Andrea sighed and forced her mind back to the stranger. He stood abruptly, leaning in toward his dinner companion and spoke softly. As his head rose he reestablished eye contact with Andrea. It was then that she knew that he was going to lead her down a path she wasn't prepared for. There was no question about it. What only remained now was the logistics.

He did not break eye contact with Andrea as she reassured Mark's monologue with an occasional "mhmm", She interrupted Mark mid-sentence to excuse herself to the restroom. Mark paused and nodded. She stood, pushing her chair back from the table and felt dizzy. What the hell was she doing? Uncertain of herself she turned her back to Mark and now followed the stranger toward the restrooms. They were located at the far end of the restaurant on the other side of the bar.

Her heart beat rapidly as she approached and found her stranger patiently waiting before the door to the ladies room. She moved toward the door and as she passed him, two things happened at once: she caught the scent of his cologne as it drifted through the small space between them and then he said to her, without hesitation,

"I am going to fuck you like you've been needing to be fucked for a long time. Do you understand me?"

Andrea wimpered as she felt her knees weaken.

"Do you understand me?", he repeated, his stare unwavering.

She nodded.

Her hand trembled as she pushed open the door. She quickly ascertained there was no one else inside and that it was a single occupant restroom. He needed no invitation; he followed her in immediately. He turned and locked the door behind them.

What the hell was she doing? She had no answer to quiet her frenzied self-questioning. Perhaps she had enjoyed too much champagne. Perhaps she had not enjoyed enough: she wasn't sure she could do this.

Before she could collect her thoughts and form a reasonable decision on how to proceed, the stranger moved against her body, erasing the space between them. It was so sudden that it startled her and she backed against the wall. He brought his body up against hers firmer, pressing her against the wall now with the full length of his body.

She moaned.

He pressed harder. His hands found their way expertly to her dress and pushed it up higher on her thighs. He caressed her thighs with his warm hands, rubbing his thumb along the band of her thigh high stockings. He had not anticipated this detail and found it increased his excitement tremendously.

He moved his hands from her thighs up and over her hips under the fabric of her dress. She trembled again. His breath was shallow and quick as his hands roamed over her body.

He slipped his hands out from under her dress and brought them to her breasts. Massaging them through the fabric he spoke to her again. His eyes stared straight into hers still.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

She blinked. It was so direct; so aggressive. She said nothing. She wanted him so badly she could hardly stand it. But she didn't want to be easy; she wanted him to work for it.

He quickly moved his left hand up to the nape of her neck and gave a quick tug on the back of her hairline.

"You don't get to play indifferent. If you want me to fuck you, you have to say so. "

To increase her arousal he leaned in and brought his lips to her collarbone as he continued to tug lightly on her hair.

Andrea was already deep in pleasure at his hands. She'd never been pressed; demanded with an ultimatum when it came to sex. It turned her on.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

There was an edge to his voice that turned her on.

"Yes." Her voice was clear and direct. "Please", she added as an afterthought.

He returned his hands to her thighs, this time sliding them up the parting of her legs. They came to rest briefly against the fabric of her black lace panties before he slipped a finger under the edge of her panty line and into her warm wetness. She had to work hard to keep from buckling beneath his grasp. She was dripping wet.

She moaned again. He leaned in and quieted her with a kiss as his fingers continued to toy with her.

His dick was tenting his pants and she wanted him inside of her immediately. She reached for his belt buckle and began their undoing. And possibly hers in the process. For God's sake her husband was still at the table waiting for her!

Her fingers fumbled with the clasp on his dress pants and she wondered if she'd spend an eternity just getting them off. Finally she had freed him from his fabric prison, slipping not only his pants down over his toned ass but also his trunk underwear. His dick was hard and curved slightly to the left. Warm to the touch. The palm of her hand faced outward as she grasped her fingers around the base of it and pulled the tight skin upward and over the tip toward her stomach.

After a few moments, he slipped his fingers out of her and with her wetness still dripping from them, covered her hand with his and moved it away from his throbbing dick. He took her other hand in his as well and guided them above her head, pressing her against the wall once more.

With a steady movement of his hips, he angled his dick up against her waiting slit. She was shorter than him and he realized his mistake at once; he would not be able to enter her as she stood. He brought his strong arms down around her hips and lifted her body up a few inches, using the wall behind her as leverage. Now, *now* the angle was perfect and he effortlessly slide the tip of his dick inside of her.

She gasped. He slid further into her and maintained a controlled withdrawal and re-entry several times before he could hold back no longer and began to fuck her aggressively. Each time he slammed into her, her ass slipped back in his hands and hit the wall with a slap.

Their erotic hunger had been so perfectly fed that it took just a few minutes to take each one of them over the edge. Her first, and then him – her frenzied panting was what pulled him into his own orgasm. He slipped out of her, their mingled juices dripping off his dick and onto the bathroom floor. He met her gaze one more time and told her to return to her table.

Still wet, she washed her hands as he pulled his trunks and pants back in place and buckled his belt. He did not speak to her again, nor look at her.

She quietly unlocked the door and walked to her table. She gave herself credit for not looking back at him. Not once.

When she arrived at her table, Mark was on the phone, presumably with a client.