The Sweetest Dessert

The meat was stringy and the sauce too buttery. The vegetables were not fresh, the plates not sufficiently warmed, the cutlery smudged, and the service slow. There were two compensations; a rather fine, if overpriced, French Cote du Rhone, and Jane. The only reason Paul had agreed to accompany this gaggle of women to a restaurant he would not recommend to an enemy, was Jane. She sat further down the table across from him, but he was glad to be able to observe her for a while before starting up a conversation. She was mid-twenties, tall, with a mousy brown hair that fell below her shoulders. She had the face of a model; high cheek bones, vivid green eyes, and very full lips. Her arms and fingers were long, and her movements lazy but efficient. Paul was quick to notice the engagement ring. She had joined the group directly from work so she wore a plain red sweater and a pair of black cotton pants. But what struck him most intensely was the exuberance of her personality. Her conversation was punctuated by a chorus of seducing facial expressions that served as a stage for the brilliance of her green, knowing and alert eyes. Paul was fascinated but at the same time alarmed by how perfect she was. At one point, after he had set aside his plate of food in disgust, he looked for flaws but could find none. Even her name, Jane, in its plainness served only to highlight the perfection of the woman. How would he convince her to be dessert? She would be the most perfect, most expensive, most delicious dessert he had ever served. The question was how. Money would not do it; he knew this from the beginning. His usual method of offering cash to college kids and single mums would more likely turn her away. He had to think carefully about the hook. He would have to seduce her, he knew that, and there would have to be something in her life that made her want to do it. The former he was very confident about, while the latter was in the hands of the gods.

Jane had noticed the attentions of the man across from her. She was not displeased by this. Although she was a beautiful woman she suffered the weakness of many beautiful women; an inner frailty, a brittleness of confidence. She would be married in just over two weeks and while this prospect pleased her greatly, it also worried her. It was not that she was a flirt, certainly not. But she enjoyed the attention of men and knew that she would suffer guilt once the wedding ring on her finger forbade her these quiet pleasures. She was in love with her fiancé and had readily accepted his proposal. He had the strength that would give her a foundation in life, he would repair her brittleness. It was her mother, whose unconscious jealousy of her husband's attentions to Jane undermined her self-esteem. She would hiss anger at her beautiful child telling her of the shallowness of her looks and the stupidity of her girlish thoughts. But Jane's looks persisted and her intelligence was never doubted by anyone other than her needlessly cruel mother. There remained though a fragility about Jane and a sense she had that she deserved to be punished for her good fortune. This led to many a bad boyfriend and many sexual humiliations. Her friends, in exasperation, advised her against each of them and were appalled by their treatment of her. But Jane was always drawn back towards the danger. Her fiancé though was very different. His steadiness and kindness was plain for everyone to see. This signaled a new start for Jane and she both hungered for this new light of the future and felt the ache of her farewell to her past.

Paul knew none of this of course, but he had a sense that Jane was susceptible to his proposal if he was careful enough to present it in the right way. He had watched how after she became aware of his scrutiny she performed for him. This was extremely subtle and no one else at the table was aware of this private dance. But he did catch her watching to see whether he had noticed; her eyes quickly darting in his direction. It was she who started their conversation.

"So, Paul," she said, leaning across the table, "what do you do that makes you so interesting?"

"I'm interesting?" Paul said, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Well Pamela thinks so," Jane said her face bright with her joke. Pamela laughed uncomfortably and playfully pushed against Jane's shoulder. Paul's first thought was: Don't bruise her. "Speak for yourself," Pamela retorted sharing the humor of the moment.

"I wish I could," said Jane, her green eyes now fixed on Paul's face, "but I am spoken for." Pamela laughed loudly at Jane's joke.

"When is the big day?" asked Paul. Pamela, who seemed to Paul to be more excited about the wedding than Jane, gave him a long account of the wedding plans. By the time Pamela had finished Jane had been drawn into another conversation and Paul had to reel in his line again.

He was struggling into his long blue cashmere coat at the restaurant door when Jane asked him again about his source of employment. "I own a restaurant and I'm the cook and the bottle scrubber too," Paul replied. Standing this close to Jane confirmed for him her perfection. "He is a lucky man," Paul continued, "a very lucky man." Jane ignored this complement.

"That's really interesting. What kind of restaurant?"

"It is a very unique place. I would like to tell you about it sometime."

"Why not just tell me where it is?" Jane responded, her face now taking on an impish naughtiness that weakened Paul's knees.

"I have to tell you about it first and if you like what I say I would love to have you visit the restaurant." At this point Pamela protectively inserted herself between Paul and Jane and broke up their conversation. Paul though managed to slip Jane a business card as they left the restaurant and walked slowly through the falling snow to their waiting cars.

Jane had been expecting another boring evening of chatter about the wedding but Paul's unexpected presence had lifted her flagging spirits. He was certainly attractive to her; he was tall enough and had a strong, muscular body beneath his sharp business suit. She enjoyed his boyish face and the twinkle in his eye that accompanied his smile. But what most intrigued her about Paul was her knowledge that he was a dangerous man. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't afraid of that. Rather she knew he was the type of man who could feed the hungry darkness of her soul. And now, two days later, she held his business card in her long fingers. Her fiancé, Bob, was away fishing with his father somewhere in Louisiana. She was getting married in ten days and she was unsure whether this was a reason to phone or a reason not to. While she sat there Pamela called, leaving a rambling message about shopping for shoes and squealing with anticipation of the ceremony. This persuaded Jane to make the call.

They met in a part of the city that Jane would usually avoid. It was a working class neighborhood with houses huddled close to one another. The roads were slick with rain and the lights from shops reflected in the puddles of water. Paul was waiting for her outside a very ordinary looking building. Jane wanted to ask him whether he was serious. She was expecting to be dining in a fancy downtown restaurant not a hole in the wall in a bad neighborhood. What kind restaurant owner was he?

Paul took her hand and led her into a bright, warm but small room crowded with tables and people. The owner, a large woman, bounded over when she saw Paul and threw her fat arms around him. Jane couldn't help smiling at this enthusiastic welcome. Paul introduced Jane who was immediately hugged in her turn. They were shown to a small table near the window onto the street.

"This is the best Portuguese restaurant on the East Coast. The best fish you will taste anywhere," Paul informed Jane as she surveyed the noisy room. "It's my secret and I only let very special people know about it," he said smiling broadly at her.

"Well thank you sir," Jane replied playfully, "I shan't tell a soul."

There were no menus. They were served whatever was the very freshest and the very best of the day. Paul and the owner discussed wine for several minutes and finally settled on a red from one of the best Portuguese vineyards.

"I didn't know the Portuguese made wine," Jane remarked.

"There's a lot you don't know Jane, but soon you will find out as much as you want to know."

As they ate they swapped and shared information about themselves like lovers on a first date. Paul told her about his trips to Europe to work in famous kitchens and to tour the small towns of Italy and France. Jane told him about her work with a literacy group for inner city children. They discovered they shared a star sign; Capricorn. They enjoyed each other's wry humor and the easiness of their conversation.

Jane forgot for a couple of hours the hassles of the wedding and her anxiousness about her new life. It was only when he asked her whether he should order another bottle of wine that she remembered her situation. She already felt a bit tipsy and she knew that if she was going to sleep in her own bed that night she should decline his offer. This could be my last fling before the shackles of married life she told herself. No one would get hurt, he knows my situation. The pause in the conversation had gone on a little while as she thought through the possibilities of the next few hours. Paul sat quietly watching her, allowing her the time to make what he knew would be an important decision if his plan was to succeed. Jane nodded to the waiter agreeing to the second bottle.

"Now about your restaurant, Mr. Paul ... what exactly is it about and why is it such a mystery?"

Paul explained that it was an exclusive restaurant for gentlemen that served the best French cuisine and, for dessert, women. He answered Jane's puzzled response by explaining that, no, the women were not "cooked," but that they were served naked with their mouth, tits, pussy or ass flavored for the eating and sucking pleasure of the gentlemen. The women were tied to a special trolley that allowed the women to be bent over and turned so that access could be gained to all their parts. Jane, now flushed and a little unsteady from the wine, asked what flavors could a gentleman request. Paul, whose voice had already descended to a whisper, spoke even more quietly forcing Jane to lean across the table to hear. There are the usual creams, chocolates and sauces, he said. Sometimes caviar if the gentleman wanted something savory. A vanilla sauce for example would be dabbed into peaks on her nipple and then sucked off. Paul confirmed Jane's prediction that this would be the same sort of thing for the "other parts" as well. Jane's eyes widened even further when Paul said that the women could be served "plain" or orgasmed and that that orgasm would be had at the table before the dish was served. The expensive dishes were the cum ones where the women's pussy, ass or mouth would be cummed in, again at the table, and then the additional creams, sauces or chocolates applied if requested. The most expensive menu item was a tripled cummed in pussy with the finest Russian caviar.

Jane sat, wide mouthed, her eyebrows raised and her eyes ablaze.

"Are you serious?" She asked.

"Yep."

"Who supplies the ...um ... ingredients?"

"You mean the cum?" Paul said. Jane leaned across the table, her whole manner now playful and teasing. "Yes," she whispered, "the cum."

"My waiters." Paul informed her.

"Well I hope they're cute," Jane said before quickly adding, "Not that I mean, you know, that ...

"What?" Paul interrupted.

"That I would be on your menu."

"That's such a pity," said Paul draining the last of the wine into her glass. "You would be the most excellent dessert I have ever served. Women are like wine and you Jane would rank as the top vintage. Your smell, your body, your taste; you would be perfect."

"I'm getting married," Jane reminded him.

"Yes," Paul retorted "And that is like taking the finest red wine and pouring it into a greasy stew. A total waste." Jane laughed at this, a pure perfect laugh that lit up her face.

"We are going to my apartment, no?" Paul politely enquired. Jane nodded. "There I will show you something you might enjoy before you become stew."

Jane lay on a soft thick rug in the lounge, her black woolen top rolled up under breasts and her flat, smooth belly exposed. The skirt she wore was smoothed down and she still wore her sandals. Paul returned from the kitchen carrying a very small glass container.

"Now, my dear, I am going to pour this cream, flavored with a hint of vanilla, into your belly button. I warmed it a little so don't flinch." Jane nodded. Paul delicately poured the contents of the glass container, twisting his wrist at the end so that the cream peaked. He explained that the scent of vanilla and the scent of skin delicately complemented each other. She could feel his breath against her as he inhaled her scent. This would be her last fling before marriage; a perfect one night stand with no consequences. A secret she could carry into her future.

Paul let himself experience the smell of her perfect, smooth, almost childlike skin mix with just the suggestion of vanilla and the sweet, musky smell of her anticipation that was spreading from her sex. She sensed his tongue dip into the stiff peak of the cream. Already she was aroused and he had yet to even touch her. She waited and then like a scorching flame she felt the heat of his tongue brush the edge of her belly button. She let out a soft moan of pleasure, her hips tightening and then surrendering to his tongue again. Soon she could feel his tongue thrusting into her belly button searching for more cream in the deep crevices of this new hole in her body. When he had finished he paused, his head over her tummy, smelling her overwhelming need.

"You would be the glory of all my desserts," he announced. Jane sat up, brushing the hair from her face. She looked intently at him, trying to understand whether she could trust him.

"That would be bad," she said. "I would be the absolute worst fiancé in all the world."

"This is a different world, Jane," he replied gently. "In this world there are no fiancés, no marriages, nothing like that. Just beautiful women prepared for and appreciated by men who know how to enjoy someone like you."

Jane responded as she always did to the flattery. She was also afraid but this fear only prompted her forward. She was keenly aware that the next few days would be her last chance to experience something forbidden and this invitation was on the outer edge of forbidden. She inwardly chastised herself for her fear and timidity.

"Well, it wouldn't be adultery would it? It would be cheating but so is this. God knows what is going to happen at his bachelor party; there will definitely be girls and stuff there; you know hired strippers and stuff like that." Paul said nothing as she reasoned and rationalized out loud. After a long pause she asked "What if they ask for, you know, the most expensive dessert?" She used her hands to frame the word "dessert" with imaginary quotation marks.

"It would be a great honor for you and a triumph for me."

"I've never had that many men all at once." She explained.

"Of course not." He replied neutrally.

"Do you think they will?" She asked.

"We can only hope my dear, only hope."