Arena Ch. 05

"That's for later," she breathes, kissing him again lightly on the lips. She takes his hand, pulling him toward the garage. "Come on, let's go make all the women jealous."

"Not to mention the men," he mutters softly as he follows her toward the car.

Thirty-five minutes later they arrive at The Pea Pod. Rick stops the car in front of the door, hurrying around to open the door and help Giselle out. Two couples are coming out of the restaurant just as Giselle rises out of the car and he notices that all four are staring at her. She must have noticed as well, as she kisses him just a bit longer than necessary before stepping back out of their way.

"I'll check on our reservations while you park the car," she says before sashaying into the restaurant, her words between the full on sex kitten tone she's learned from Charlie and her normal speaking voice.

When he enters the restaurant he finds Giselle beaming as she speaks with the hostess, another redhead.

"Here he is," she says, taking his arm.

As the hostess guides them through the restaurant they notice the conversations dying in their immediate areas as they move between the tables.

"Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Chamfer," the hostess says, stepping aside so he can seat her.

"Thank you Katie," Giselle says as she sits down and Rick eases her to the table.

"Do you know her?" he asks as sits down.

"No, but she knows us... from the immersion. She said I am even more beautiful than she imagined. That'll make a girl feel good about herself."

"Now how did she know it was you? It's not like you looked in a mirror," he asks in confusion.

"I asked the same question. It seems her boyfriend is an aspiring artist and drew her a picture of me. How flattering is that?"

Before he can answer their waiter arrives, delivering their menus and taking their drink orders. He quickly selects a crusted squash dish, deliberately avoiding the only two meat dishes offered, then settles back and watches her flip back and forth between the wine menu and the regular menu, studying them with the intensity of a kid cramming for finals. He notices that their waiter passes by several times, leaving their water the first time but looking to their table each time after that, but not stopping again until Giselle is no longer studying the menu with the same intensity.

Daniel, their waiter, arrives with a basket of bread and butter and then offers to take their order. Giselle orders first, a squash dish stuffed with hummus paired with a Pinot Noir and a lettuce wedge with blue cheese dressing.

Rick, wanting a bit more flavor, selects the southwest crusted squash, also with a lettuce wedge and blue cheese dressing, but he sticks with water for his drink.

They are just cutting into their lettuce wedges when a loud voice booms from behind Giselle. "So, this is the lucky man is it, Giselle?" Rick looks up to see a handsome man in his mid to late fifties walking up behind her. "Mary, come let me introduce you to Rick and Giselle Chamfer." Rick looks to Giselle, her head down, eyes closed in resignation with her jaw gritted tight in anger.

Mary, a pretty woman going soft, whom Rick assumes to be the man's wife, tugs on the man's jacket sleeve. "Richard, let them eat in peace. You can introduce me to them later." Rick thinks the woman looks distinctly apologetic.

"No, no. You need to meet them. They're famous, you know," the man says loudly, placing his hands on Giselle's shoulders in a far too familiar way, the way you would a good friend. The man is being obnoxiously loud and a few of the surrounding tables are beginning to look at him.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir," Rick says quietly, holding tight to his anger. He doesn't like this man, and he certainly doesn't like his hands on his wife.

"What? Giselle hasn't mentioned me? I'm Richard Hittle. I'm a partner at Richards, Beckel & Lively."

Rick notices that the wait staff is beginning to mill about, watching the episode unfold. "Would you and Mary like to join us?" Rick asks, gesturing to a chair, trying to defuse the situation and to have Hittle get his fucking hands off of Giselle.

Mary pulls at his jacket again. "Come on, Richard. Let them enjoy their meal," she says, looking at Rick with sorrow in her eyes.

"They have an immersion," Hittle says as if she hadn't spoken, "Maybe the most famous immersion of all time, isn't that right, Rick?"

"Richard, would you and Mary please sit down, and then we can talk about whatever it is you want to talk about. You're bothering the other guests," Rick says, his voice quiet but firm, his eyes never leaving Hittle.

"Giselle, she's lovely. You're a lucky man to have her in your bed each night," Hittle says loudly, his hands moving down to her upper arms.

Rick tosses his napkin onto the table, preparing to stand, having had enough of Mr. Richard Hittle, when an older man, probably the manager, arrives.

"Sir!" says the man, "I'm going to ask you to leave and stop bothering our guests." The man is flanked by two of the biggest waiters.

Hittle turns to look at the man, drawing himself up. "What? I can't talk to my good friends Rick and Giselle?" Hittle isn't dead drunk, but Rick can tell from his voice he has had a few too many glasses of wine with dinner. At least his hands are off Giselle, though poor Mary looks horrified.

Rick mouths the word 'wait,' to Giselle and stands up. "Richard, why don't we go outside and stop bothering these nice people. Mary can take you home, okay?"

Hittle whirls on Rick. "Are you threatening me! I'll..." Hittle says, grabbing Rick's suit in a fist.

Rick moves so fast Giselle barely has time to register it, slapping Hittle's hand away from his lapel, spinning him around and slamming his head and chest into their table so hard that the dishes bounce, one of his hands on Hittle's wrist, the other holding his elbow in a position that looks very painful. "Now, Dick, you and I are going to leave, quietly, and stop bothering these people." He bends over Hittle's prone form, speaking so softly no one but Hittle and Giselle can hear him. "Because if you don't, I'm going to break your fucking arm. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Hittle grunts.

Rick hauls Hittle up off the table, holding him by the wrist and elbow, leading him out of the restaurant. Mary, the manager and the two waiters trailing along behind. When the party reaches the front door Rick speaks softly to Mary. "Go get the car, Mary. I don't believe Richard is any condition to drive home."

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what—"

"It's okay Mary. Just go get the car," he encourages. "He's going to be a good boy the rest of the evening." When Mary hurries away, he leans in behind Hittle's ear. "Because if you're not, and I find out, I will become angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," he whispers before he lifts up just a bit on Hittle's wrist, applying pressure to the elbow. It forces Hittle to go up on his tiptoes, then whimper in pain, before Rick backs off on the pressure. "If I turn you loose, are you going to give me any trouble?" he asks when a car glides to a stop in front of them.

Hittle shakes his head frantically. "No," he croaks out.

Rick releases his arm, then turns him around, straightening his coat and tucking in his tie. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, Rick opens the door to the car, placing his hand on the top of Hittle's head to protect it as he slides into the seat. "Go home and sleep it off, Richard," he says before slamming the car door. Hittle glares malevolently at him through the car window.

When Rick turns, straightening his jacket, the manager is standing there, the two waiters gone. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. Your meals this evening are complements of the house and I hope you won't hold this unfortunate incident against us."

Rick places a hand on the man's shoulder as they stride back into the restaurant. "Not your fault, but thank you for the meals."

The man visibly relaxes. "The least we can do, sir. Thank you for your understanding."

When Rick steps back into the dining area a single pair of hands begin to clap slowly and softly from the table closest to their own, but it quickly spreads through the entire dining area, the wait staff included.

As he approaches their table Giselle stands, looking as stunning as ever, and gives him a long hug. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time," she whispers in his ear before kissing him briefly. He laughs quietly and they settle into their chairs, the restaurant sounds slowly returning to normal as they resume their meal.

"So that was Richard Hittle. What a Dick," he teases.

"Why did he have to be here, tonight of all nights, and ruin a perfectly wonderful evening?" Giselle murmurs, picking at her food. She hasn't spoken to Hittle since Monday, and had hoped he'd become discouraged and decided to leave her alone.

"I don't know that the evening is ruined," he says, attacking his salad. "Dinner and a show, what more can a person ask for?"

"It doesn't bother you?"

"What? That Hittle was here acting like an ass? It did, especially when he put his hands on you. But he's not here now, and you are. I would much rather focus my attention on you than on someone who isn't here."

"I suppose," she said sadly. "I was feeling so good about the evening, and he has to show up and ruin it."

He reaches across the table and takes Giselle's hands into his own. "Don't let him ruin it for you. Hold your head up proud. You did nothing wrong. There is only one person here that blames you for what happened, and that's you."

"But I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be. There's—" he begins, before stopping as he notices a woman about their age approaching their table, her male companion standing by a table a short distance away, clearly uncomfortable.

The woman crouches down beside Giselle. "You don't know me, but I saw you two come in. I wasn't going to say anything to you, but after what happened, how Rick took care of that horrible man when he put his hands on you like that, I just had to come tell you how much your immersion has meant to my husband and me, and much how I admire you, both of you, for what you did. You're such a lucky woman."

Giselle is flabbergasted and at a loss for words. "Thank you..."

"Pat. My friends call me Pat. Anyway, that's all I wanted to say," Pat says, standing, but before she walks away she bends down and whispers something into Giselle's ear, causing her to smile.

Rick's trying to hide his smile behind his napkin. "Okay, what?" he asks when Pat is out of earshot.

"She thinks you are 'just gorgeous,'" Giselle says, her smile growing wider.

He chuckles. "Now I'm embarrassed."

"Well, don't let it go to your head," she teases, her mood clearly improved after Pat's comments. "Where did you learn to fight like that? I didn't know you could do that."

"It's not much. I just know a few self-defense moves. If someone is a true badass, and knows how to take care of themselves, they'd mop the floor with me."

Daniel arrives with their entrees, smiling broadly at both of them. "Pardon me for saying so, but that was really something, what you did. The entire staff is talking about it." Daniel leans in conspiratorially. "The girls are very impressed," he says before standing up. "Mr. Leffler, the manager, told me that anything you want, you get. May I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you Daniel," Rick says, and Daniel leaves to tend to another table. "So, tell me again why you're embarrassed?" he asks lightly.

She giggles. "I don't remember. Can you teach me that?"

"What? The arm lock? Sure."

"Tonight?" she asks more quietly.

"If you'd like."

She leans in close. "In the nude?"

"Oh, that's the only way to learn it," he says with a smile.

Nothing else is said about the night's unpleasantness, but as she eats, Giselle finds herself becoming aroused by Rick's actions. Not the physical aspect so much, impressive as that was, but more that he was there, willing and able to defend her using the minimal amount of force necessary. She's pretty sure that if he'd actually hurt Hittle, she wouldn't be so turned on by his actions, but he hadn't, and she's impressed by the way he moved. He was like a tiger, all speed, power, and grace. Suddenly, from nowhere, she recalls a conversation that she and Charlie had and begins to giggle.

Rick has been watching Giselle while he eats his surprisingly good squash. Now that she's over her embarrassment, when she looks at him she has a hunger that make his stomach flip over. He doesn't want to assume too much, but he hopes he'll be up to the task at hand tonight.

"What?" he asks when she begins to laugh.

"Nothing. I'll tell you later," she says with a smile.

"Tell me now. I'd like to know."

She leans in and lowers her voice so that he can barely hear her. "You remember right after our second anniversary, when this whole thing with the immersion started?" He nods for her to continue. "Charlie and I were talking about you, and she said that you were so in love with me that if I were to ask, you'd take me in a crowded restaurant." She pauses and smiles at him in a way that make his penis start to harden. "I'm thinking about taking you in one right now."

He pauses, looking into Giselle's eyes, not sure what to say. He knows she'll never do anything unsavory in public, but her eyes tell him that she is thinking about something, something that's causing her color to rise.

"You are, are you?" he asks, interested in hearing what she has to say.

"I am. I'm thinking of wiping these dishes into the floor, ripping this dress off, and have you bend me over this table right now." She leans in closer still. "Just wait until I get you home. I hope you're up for it."

He hopes he is too. Just imaging the pleasures she's going to give him causes his penis to harden uncomfortably.

"Should we skip dessert then?" he asks, trying to sound nonplussed by her words.

"Absolutely not," she says, running a foot along the back of his leg under the table. "We're just going to have it at home."

As they finish eating, Mr. Leffler, arrives, apologizing once again for the unpleasantness of the evening. Rick struggles to pay attention and sound coherent as Giselle casually brushes his leg under the table with her foot, staring at him in a way that makes it difficult to focus. As they rise to go, he leaves a pair of twenties and a ten on the table as a tip, before he, with Giselle on his arm, walks out of the restaurant.

Rick pulls the Aston into the garage and sighs in relief. Giselle had kept her hands to herself during the drive home, not distracting him with her touch while he drove, and thank God for small favors. It was difficult enough to focus on his driving as she casually brushed the skin of her upper breasts and her thigh. They'd made excellent time coming home, Rick winding out the V12 several times as he skillfully piloted the car through traffic. Giselle actually moaned softly once as he accelerated briskly from a stop light, the Aston howling its war cry.

As they enter the house he expects her to attack him right in the kitchen, and he prepares himself to receive it, but she walks calmly past him heading to their bedroom. Somewhat surprised, he follows wondering if, despite her actions in the car, she's cooled off slightly from the red-hot state she was in at the restaurant.

When he enters the bedroom she's removing her pearl necklace and shoes. As she calmly undresses, Rick begins shedding his suit. They finish undressing at very nearly the same instant, and since she hasn't said a word to him since entering the bedroom, he reaches behind his pillow to pull out his pajamas.

"You don't need those," she says quietly as she calmly turns down their bed.

He drops the pants to the floor and steps around to her side of the bed, taking her into his arms before bending down to kiss her lips. Her kiss is slow, deep, and erotic, their tongues engaged in a slow dance as she slowly strokes his hard penis, her gentle touch instantly putting him on edge. Intentional or not, every action she's performed in the last hour has ratcheted his heat up until he's struggling to control his desire for her.

She slowly, reluctantly, pulls back from the kiss. "You said you'd show me the arm lock," she says quietly, looking deep into his eyes.

He takes a step back. God he wants her, but he can play the game, and he recognizes this is just a different form of foreplay.

"Okay. If someone grabs the front of your shirt, or puts their hand up where you can grab it..." He takes her hand and holds it to his heart. "You take their wrist in this hand, pull and turn their arm like this, then put your other hand on their elbow and push, like this," he instructs, slowly and carefully going through the motion so as to not hurt her. When he completes the move he is standing with her bent over the bed, her shapely buttocks tantalizingly close to his manhood. He releases her arm and takes a step back. "Now you try."

She turns to face him, waiting for him to make his move. He reaches out and puts his hand on her breast. She takes the hand then slowly turns in the manner he showed her, turning him around, then places her hand on his elbow.

"That's the move," he says when she turns him loose. "Now, let's try it a little faster. I'm going to resist a little this time, so you are going to have to put some muscle into it, but when you press on my elbow, try not to break my arm, okay?" When she doesn't say anything he reaches quickly for her throat. She grabs the hand and, while the turn is clumsy, she does get him in position. "Let's do it again," he says, "Faster this time." This time he reaches low. She is expecting high so she is late getting his hand, and he resists her, making her work for it, before he allows her to get the hold.

"Giselle, you're going to have to be more aggressive. When you take my hand, you haul on it like you are trying to twist my arm off, okay?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you!"

"You're not going to hurt me. Not until you press on the elbow. You have to be a little careful there or you'll break my arm, but I outweigh you by, what, forty, forty-five kilos? If you don't get me turned, if you give me the time to use my strength and weight against you, you are going to be in trouble. So let's go again, but this time I'm coming after you. I'm going to try to put you on that bed and hold you down. I'm the bad guy. I'm going to hold you down on the bed and rape you. Don't let that happen, okay?" The moment she nods he reaches to grab her hair. He doesn't go full speed but he tries to push through when she grabs his wrist.

Giselle takes Rick's wrist and pulls as hard as she can. As she rotates his arm she can feel him trying to turn, to prevent her from rotating his arm, but she continues with the motion, tightening her grip on his wrist to force the arm to turn. The arm comes around and she knows she has him! He begins to try to straighten, to break the hold as her left hand comes down on the elbow. She presses but Rick continues to push back, so she leans into it a bit more, and still he resists.

"I'm going to kill you, you bitch," he snarls, trying to turn out of the hold.

Hoping that he is just trying to make a point, she bears down on the elbow, and he instantly stops fighting and falls face down to the bed with a gasp. She holds him down, lying against his body to use her weight.

"Okay, okay!" he cries, the snarling tone gone. "Ease up on the elbow!"

She turns him loose and Rick rolls over, shaking his arm and rubbing his elbow. "Now that's more like it!" he cheers before standing up.

She's beaming as he stands, but he grabs at her again, using his left hand this time, in deference to his aching right elbow. She's startled, taking a half step back to avoid his grasp, but recovers and grabs his wrist and with a strong fluid movement, turns him and drives him hard into the bed, once again using her weight for leverage, the impact of her crotch against his bare ass sending a shiver of pleasure through her.