Angela Meets Her Don Juan

She could have told him at that moment that it was high time they had dinner. But she couldn't really speak. She hadn't come just to eat. And this was ... different. She could barely think. She didn't want to think. Was it her, or were the bubbles surging with greater intensity? Was there a new current that seemed to point with faster pulses just ... there?

Geoffrey left the water and she watched his back. Strong legs, strong butt for an older dude. Grateful for a personal moment, she was also disappointed that he was not there watching her. She hadn't realized it was such a turn-on.

The bubbles. The heat. A swirl of water had brushed aside the cloth over one nipple. A hundred little tongues. Every lick sent a tiny burst of energy down into her belly. She had teased herself before, riding that lovely painful clenching and lift. This was almost constant. It pushed sound out of her throat and she felt herself almost singing.

"Ohhhh ...ohhhh...ohhhh....ohhhh....ohhh .........."

She needed to come and she wanted to stay in that high humming aching place. She felt her hips uncontrollably fucking the water and it surged back against everywhere that she needed to be touched. So close ... so close.

The bubbles stopped abruptly. Geoffrey was kneeling on the rim of the Jacuzzi with a tall sparkling drink.

"Something cool, my dear?"

Angela was speechless. A second before she had been riding a dolphin of feeling atop a huge warm wave. Suddenly she was beached. She took the drink. Sipped. It was totally delicious. Tropical fruits with a touch of an exotic spice and a bubbly wine.

"It is good?"

She still had nothing to say. One part of her was totally mad at Geoffrey for killing her ride. Another part was totally grateful for introducing her to the most amazing sensation she had ever felt. But why had he stopped it? She didn't dare ask. Surely he knew that she was close ... of course he did. Had Marcie enjoyed this ... thing? The thought made her a little jealous. But of course he could not have gotten it so totally right without some ... volunteers to test it. Maybe he would tell her.

"Ready for a swim? It is good, after the heat. We have only a few minutes. My favorite butter dinner will be on the table in just a little while."

"Geoffrey?"

"Yes?"

"You're the devil. You know that?"

"Yes, perhaps. But my mischief is all for your benefit. I hope you will remember this evening with deep gratitude. Come."

"Okay. I'll come."

"Yes you will. I'll guarantee it."

He offered his hand and led her up the steps.

"Thank you."

"Mi placer."

The cool water of the pool was a surprise to her feet, but as she was guided down into it she noted that one spot at her core wanted to stay warm, even hot.

"Do you swim?"

"I do."

"Do you need goggles for the eyes? It is a salt water pool, so there is no chlorine."

"Then no. And I don't have much makeup to get in my eyes."

"Yes. I like that freshness. Let's swim."

They swam, side by side, up and back several times. Angela had been on the swim team, but it had been several years since she had competed. It felt good to stretch her muscles and to challenge Geoffrey a bit. He swam beside her but she could tell he was testing her. They ended laughing and out of breath.

"Wow, that was good, but now I am warmed up in a different way. I will need to take a cold shower so I won't sweat all through dinner."

"I would not care if you had that warm athletic glow. It is so much nicer than a woman all powdered and painted. And I am more than grateful just to be in the company of such a naturally beautiful woman. But, yes, let's dress for dinner. The lobsters await us."

Geoffrey offered his hand again as they went up the steps at the end of the pool. Angela felt very happy. So far, this had been one of the best dates of her life. Something twinged in her belly and she realized she was quite hungry, and still a little horny, a lovely combination.

If it wasn't for the grumbles in her tummy she might have taken quite a while in the shower. It was a magnificent tiled enclosure, with a garden of peacocks and roses all round the walls and jets from several angles that she could turn on or off. One spit from the mouth of a cute sculptured frog at quite a naughty angle. If the lobster had not been beckoning with its fat, red claws she might have allowed that spurt to hit her magic spot until she melted against the wall. Still, even after the brisk cold shower, there was a persistent little throb that never quite went away.

She dressed like a lady again, a bit too aware of how her thong was saying hello to her warm lower lips. She didn't worry a lot about her hair as it came out of the bathing cap. There was something fun and undeniably sexy about having some errant locks spilling on her neck and a damp lock on her forehead.

Her swain was waiting elegantly outside the dressing room. She took his elbow and they strolled to their table, serenaded by the hidden birds. The waiter was just setting two steaming bowls of chowder at their places.

"Perhaps the only delectation we will share that does not benefit from butter tonight will be the wine." Geoffrey murmured as he pulled out her chair. "I do not apologize for the butter because I know your well-shaped physique will not suffer from it. And I expect much from the prosecco because it is from my own vineyards and I feel I have tasted it to perfection."

"Lucky you."

"Indeed. May I pour?"

"You may, although I must have some cold water first. We have had quite a workout in our short evening so far. "

"Of course, I will join you. The water is a magic elixir even for the old lizards like me."

He lifted his glass and she lifted hers and they clinked.

"To health"

"And happiness."

"Health and happiness."

"Now Angela, please observe this chowder. It is made from young clams from a very small bay up the coast. Almost no one knows of this place. I have my people chop the whole clams very fine and cook them with diced new potatoes from my farm. Now where, you might ask, is the butter? Well, I could say we cheat and the butter is in the fresh cream that thickens the broth; but no, before you take your first bite you should put a small spoonful of that basil butter in and let it melt for a few moments. Yes, that's good. Now taste."

Angela had never been a big fan of clam chowder. The clams were usually too rubbery and the broth too doughy. But this. This was a different order altogether. Everything just melted on her tongue, the broth still holding some of the magic of the sea. She was surprised to discover that her bowl was soon empty.

Geoffrey smiled at her and dabbed his silver mustaches with the crisp linen napkin.

"You see it is so good, yes. I would have them bring more, but we have farther to go on our journey. Freshen your palate with one of the warm rolls. You will find they are crispy on the outside but warm and soft at the center ...."

"Like the heart of a caring man ...."

"Oh, now, you know how to flatter an older gentleman. But of course it is my great pleasure to please you. Some wine?"

"Certainly." His play sure was her pleasure.

He lifted the thin fluted glass full of bubbles in a light amber liquid.

"To a beautiful woman."

"To a beautiful evening."

"Yes." They drank. The wine was very light and the bubbles tempted her to sneeze.

"At Ortega Vineyards we want the prosecco to be both a little bit tart and a little bit sweet at the same time. Do you feel it?"

"I do. It's like, well, like ... me. I try to be both a bit sweet but also a bit tart. I don't know if I have achieved the balance that you have in this wine. It is very special."

"Then the comparison is perfect. To you and your ... mezcla sabrosa."

Geoffrey's eyes were sparkling, kind, and a bit hooded. She could guess what he was thinking. After all, he had already taken her, almost, to the best orgasm she had ever had. The look gave her a shiver, though she didn't really mind. In fact, she allowed the back of her mind to flirt with a gauzy image of being tasted like a fine wine.

A new dish was arriving at the table. It looked like a bowl full of small shells. The waiter put two small bowls next to her plate, one of a grey liquid, and one of melted butter. A big empty bowl went in the middle of the table.

"You have had these before?"

"No, I've had oysters on the half shell ... but this looks quite different."

Geoffrey was grinning.

"I see from the shape of your nose that the oysters were ... not what you were accustomed to eat. Yes, they are an acquired taste ... as are these steamed clams. And the way one eats them is ... what ... a little strange. But the taste, with the butter, of course, is delicioso. Here, watch.

"You tug it from its shell. If the shell is cracked, forget that one. There, you see, you pull it all out. Very strange, yes? The fat part. The long neck with the black cover. So, this cover you peel off. Yes, it is somewhat like a tiny male organ, but we will ignore that, unless you do not wish to ignore that." He winked at her as he tossed the tiny black foreskin into the center bowl.

"Now these creatures live under the sand, so their insides can be a bit sandy. We hold them by the little tube and dip, dip, dip in the warm clam broth, lo hago asi until all the sand is gone. Oh, sometimes you get a little, but that is life, is it not?

"Then dip it well in the butter, and ... your mouth please ..." He beckoned to her and she leaned across the table like a baby bird.

He dropped the clam neatly onto her tongue.

"This is not like the oyster. You may chew it. You will find several textures."

Angela chewed up her morsel. Swallowed.

"Yes?"

"I don't know yet. It's very tasty. But it also has a strange texture, or rather, several textures. Part of it is chewy, another part kind of slippery like an oyster, and then it kind of gushes when you bite down. Hmm."

"Have another one."

"I will."

This time she did all the preparations herself. A big one.

"Mmm. Icky and wonderful."

They finished the bowl. Angela noticed that Geoffrey's lips were glistening with butter in the middle of his elegant white beard and mustache. A tip of pink tongue licked them. She imagined that tongue .... Shivered.

"Before the waiter clears this away, I encourage you to take a sip of the broth. Not everyone does it. They see it as merely the bath for the clams before they are eaten. I myself enjoy. Sip, for there is some sand in the bottom of the bowl."

Angela picked up the bowl of broth and brought it to her lips. Tasted. A strong flavor of the sea. Something. She didn't allow herself to think it. Ah, and there was that tongue again. Something twitched down in her lap.

The waiter was clearing away the bowls and replacing them with small dishes containing ears of corn and fat steaming artichokes. The bowl of melted butter was refreshed.

Geoffrey was smiling.

"Now this, this is a favorite part of the meal for me. I love the corn on the cob. I know it is not the most ladylike thing to eat, so if you prefer I can have Manuel slice the kernels from the cob. But for me it is more fun this way. And this is roasted corn; you see the burned kernels? I think adds a nuttiness to the taste, with the butter, but in my tradition we also have some chili powder and lime. Try it any way you like. Have you had the artichokes before?"

"Maybe once. They are a little strange. Not much to eat."

"Ah, but you must take your time. Enjoy each little nibble. And, there is the butter ...."

The corn cob had little handles on each end and it was already sitting in a narrow dish filled with melted butter.

"I think I will try it plain first and then add the chili and lime. Okay?"

"It is your mouth."

He watched her mouth as she picked up the corncob and took a generous bite.

"Mmm, yes. I like this. It's definitely different from just boiled. Roasty toasty."

Geoffrey smiled. He was still watching her instead of eating his own corn. Angela took another bite and a second along the length of the corn cob.

"Ah," Geoffrey smiled. "Pardon my observing you, but I was curious whether you were one who eats it along its length or around its circumference." A little wink.

"And now you know."

"And now I know, though in the next minute you may eat it the other way. Variety is the spice of life, as they say. And so you really must try the lime or the chili or both. Easy, the chili can be hot."

He anointed his corncob with both and bit into it with big strong teeth. As elegant as he was, he was not finicky, eating with enthusiasm; licking his lips with enjoyment. Angela squeezed some lime on her corn and sprinkled it with chili powder.

"Here goes nothing."

She took a bite and the lime was tangy, the corn was nutty, and the chili bit her tongue and made her eyes water just a little. But the combination was fantastic.

"Water?"

"Perhaps a little."

She took a sip and allowed the sensations to calm for a moment. Geoffrey was looking at her closely again. He apologized.

"Excuse me, but I sincerely enjoy watching such a beautiful young woman try this and find pleasure in it. Of course it is fine if it is 'not your thing,' as they say. But it warms my heart to give you this experience."

Angela looked around. What a beautiful place. If she finished her meal and went home it would be a marvelous date. So Marcie had not led her wrong. The jacuzzi and the swim were a definite bonus, and the company was very agreeable. She had rarely been so relaxed on a date, and that was despite having someone who watched her, almost, orgasm. But then ... she sipped some of the delicious bubbly ... Geoffrey was a master. He knew what he liked and he knew how to treat a lady, and set a woman at ease being not so much a lady. Angela turned her attention to the artichoke.

"Any special instructions for this?"

Geoffrey shook his head. "Not really. You pull off a leaf and dip the edge of it in the butter and bite or scrape the bottom off with your teeth. Not every leaf needs to go in the butter. You want to save some for the heart; although Manuel will make sure we have plenty. When you get to the heart I will show you how I scoop it out. Let us begin."

Before long there was a serious pile of leaves in the pretty bowl for that purpose in the center of the table. Angela felt a little flutter seeing the marks of her own teeth and Geoffrey's on the finished leaves. And the leaves grew smaller, more transparent, and tender as she peeled off and ate the outer ones.

Now she could put a small cone of soft petals in the butter and then eat almost the whole thing. The sensation delighted and disturbed her a little. She squeezed her thighs together, remembering a time she had explored her delicate bits with her robin's egg blue hand mirror. It had been hot that day and her thighs were sort of sticky. She had been daydreaming about a certain person and so she was getting pretty hot in her 'nether regions.' When she spread her thighs there was a little 'click' as her pussy appeared. And when she pushed aside the plump outer lips there were these pale coral petals all shiny with her own natural liquor. She hadn't spent more than a moment examining this secret place because she had had an urgent need to bother that tender flesh until it made her shudder hard.

"You have reached the heart, I see.

Angela rose out of her reverie, conscious that Geoffrey's pink lips were swallowing the tender bits of his own artichoke.

"Querida, you did well. You are a natural. I did not hear you exclaim when one of the little pricks bit your lip; so you know your way around this beast. Have you ever seen one in bloom? No? Well, the plant is like a very large thistle. It can grow taller than your head. This, this is the bud which opens into a large flower, like a soft purple brush. The bees, they like the delicate center. But we like the heart. It is the reward for all this ...."

He indicated the heaping bowl of leaves.

"Now I like to take a small spoon. You see they have given us one for the purpose...."

"So that isn't for dessert ...?"

"No, no, it is for this .... You see the small nest of gold hairs in the center. We don't want to eat those. No, we scoop them out neatly leaving the soft hollow beneath. Clean it well. Then you place it in the cup of butter and anoint it. You see? Ah, you are doing fine. Cut it, if you will, and eat it. Yes?"

Angela tasted the soft grey meat. It melted on her tongue. There was a faint musk that reminded her of ... nothing else.

"Now you really must clean your palate with a little of the bread and some of the prosecco. Yes, this is good."

As she reached for a new hot roll from the basket she was surprised to discover that the table had been cleared of everything but that, a new bowl of melted butter and another large bowl to her right. Manuel was standing patiently holding something of starched white with delicate gold poppies embroidered on it.

"Ah, Manuel." Geoffrey raised his hand and beckoned. "You remind me that I have been a very bad host. You see, Angela, that thing he is holding is made to protect your beautiful dress from the evils of dripping butter and bread crumbs and steaming broth. I confess that my motives have been dishonorable. I was too much enjoying the sight of your delicate skin and did not wish to see it eclipsed. Otherwise I would have offered it before.... Ah, but forgive me. Now I say too much. Manuel ...?"

Manuel stood behind her and draped what appeared to be a bib over her chest; a bit like a beauty salon.

"If we were in a simple clam shack by the ocean, they would give us plastic bibs with a lobster and the name of the place on them. But here that will not do. No, this must be a proper babero, as they say in my language, which for some is a word for a fool. But I have them add this pretty decoration so we will not feel so foolish. This is okay?"

"This is more than okay, and very considerate. Thank you." She lifted her glass to him.

"Gracias, con mucho gusto." They drank.

"Ah. Here they are."

Manuel had reappeared with two steaming plates held high. In front of each of them he placed a bright red lobster neatly split in half.

"So, Angela, I know that you are not the vegetarian, but I find eating a lobster just a touch barbaric. For many, that is part of the adventure. But these beasts have been split and grilled and cracked so you do not have to work too hard to get at the sweet flesh inside. I hope you don't mind? No? Well, you have the little fork and knife and the pick and the crackers in case you need to wrestle with this wonderful sea creature. Shall we begin? Again, the butter is waiting to bathe the tender meat."

He was right. The ivory flesh with just a touch of scorch to it was practically tumbling out of the shell. For a moment she watched as Geoffrey squeezed some fresh lemon onto some claw meat, dipped it in the butter with his fingers and dropped it into his mouth, the white beard shivering as he chewed. His enjoyment was visible.

Of course she had had lobster before, but it was not always cooked perfectly. The tender meat of this creature melted on her tongue. Geoffrey was licking his fingers, so she felt comfortable licking her own.

"I must tell you ..." He murmured as he sipped a little prosecco between bites. "... this lobster might be more fresh if we had brought it from the offshore islands, but I am partial to the meat in the claws, and our local lobsters do not have the claws. So I bring them in from the east coast on my plane every few weeks and we have a little 'park' for them here. I hope this does not make you uncomfortable?"

Angela was finishing the last of her lobster and dabbing the butter from her lips.