Carole at Dinner

Copyright PennameWombat December 2018

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is Part 2, part 1 can be found in "Carole at the Art Lecture" in 'Erotic Couplings.'

*****

1 Pi Beta Phi

I was a bit early arriving at Greek Row because parking on the block was prohibited due to some strange rule so I parked a street over. As I walked to Carole's Pi Beta Phi house I took a deep breath and looked around. It was a heavily tree-lined street of large old houses abutting the University on the opposite side from my much more modest shared house. Even before the University during pioneer days this enclave amid the stream-watered and tree-lined section of the mountainside differentiated itself from the arid valley floor, thus the early well-to-do built their mansions here. The encroaching University and changes in fortune and tastes had seen not a few of the once-grand houses fall into disrepair.

As scions of the wealthy the early Greek system brothers and sisters found houses available for the proverbial songs. Once the beachhead had been taken other owners took the hint and the expansion continued until the block was locked up. An unspoken agreement with the University meant the administration usually looked the other way so long as no one got hurt. Or arrested. I had a couple of friends in frats so could usually name-drop my way into at least one party on the street. There was plenty of foot traffic this warm evening but no obvious signs of drinking like kegs set up on front porches or lawns. That would violate the unspoken agreement. But I knew there was plenty behind closed doors.

I rang the ΠΒΦ doorbell and was greeted by a tall, thin beautiful blonde, her long straight hair parted to her right and for now falling loose to frame her face. She had a nicely fitted long-sleeved blue blouse with ΠΒΦ the color of red wine just above her nicely round left breast. She had snug but not overly tight jeans that highlighted her figure nicely. Her expression went a bit pinched as she saw me and I racked my brain trying to recall if I'd met this sister.

"Hello," I plowed forward, "I'm Peter. I'm here for Carole."

"Yes," she said slowly and with an air that meant she wished she weren't, "I know who you are. She said you'd be by. But, come in."

She stepped back to allow me into the entryway, I heard voices around the floor and saw a few other women in adjoining rooms, some in skirts, others in shorts or jeans. As they registered my presence the volume lessened and the vibes did not seem overly positive. But I knew the drill, just hang out here. I was still racking my brain.

"She'll be right down," said my gatekeeper.

"No problem, Kelly, thanks," the tight smile told me I was right. It seemed to at least get her eyes to loosen by a degree.

The I saw my dinner companion coming down the stairs and I ignored Kelly, beyond seeing her turn to look too. As usual, very high heels, not so usual closed toe, but maybe that was due to the sheer black stockings she had on. Her black pencil skirt ended unusually for her just barely below her knees. But as she stepped the offset slit allowed her leg to show pale flesh even above the top of her stocking and an apparent garter strap. She had a buttoned black blazer that showed what appeared to be a sheer, black blouse that seemed quite snug but had only a single button undone. She had her purse over one shoulder and a carry bag in her other hand.

She acknowledged her sisters as she hit the main floor and walked toward me and Kelly. Lots of 'hot!' and 'nice!'. I just stayed silent to avoid stammering too badly.

She met us and Kelly leaned down and gave her a hug.

"Have a nice night," she said to Carole, "he doesn't deserve you."

Her tone was just enough in an 'I kid' register I could get only a bit upset.

"I'll be fine," Carole told her chapter president, "he'll behave himself."

Then she came over and lifted her head and I guessed right and kissed her very lightly on her very red lips, not wanting to smudge her carefully applied lipstick. The looks I received seemed to indicate slightly improved vibes.

"Shall I go get my car?" I asked, everyone knew I couldn't park out front but it was allowable and polite to pick up and drop off.

"Not if you're just the next block," she said and I nodded.

I offered to take the bag and she handed it to me, then we stepped outside to various 'be good now' and the like. She took my free arm with hers and we strolled down the front walk and turned left at the sidewalk to get to my car, as usual her heels not seeming to be any impediment.

We made it to my eleven year old beat up 1970 Mustang parked in the thin light between two streetlights in silence, her head touching lightly on my shoulder now and again. I believed the bag had a change of clothes and shoes. A good sign.

"In the trunk?" I asked as I held up the bag. She nodded so I put it there then my eyes went a bit wide as she removed her blazer to show her very sheer shirt, her round and unearthly firm breasts and darker spots of nipples easily differentiated through the tight-fitting black fabric even in the poor light.

"Won't need this until the restaurant," she said, her eyes and smile mischievous, as she handed me the blazer. I laid it across the bag then walked her to the passenger door, my erection already uncomfortable.

2 Delta Gamma

I looked across the console at her once in the driver's seat. She was partially turned toward me and enough light was coming through to allow me to see her barely obscured breasts. Her left leg was crossed over her right, the skirt falling away to expose her stocking covered leg, garter strap and pale bare skin almost to her crotch. Her hair was as always in shoulder length blondish-brown loose curls around her face. Her smile was deep, her eyes were soft.

"I guess it's time you tell me where we're going," I asked, trying to keep my eyes on hers but not totally succeeding, "unless you want to drive."

"La Caille," she said, "you know where it is?"

I blinked a few times. That would be my food budget for the rest of the month.

"I... do...," I stammered, "I used to deliver food there last summer."

"Don't worry," she said, having read my face and voice, "I know the owner. He owes me a favour. Your wallet is safe."

By reflex I pushed in the clutch and turned the key. I faced forward, put the 'stang into gear and pulled into the street.

"Quite the favour," I said after a couple of minutes of silence as I navigated to the main road to get to the freeway, "a Friday night table? What if I already had plans?"

"If that were the case," she said quietly but with assurance, "you'd have told that little redhead that you needed to cancel them. That was obvious as soon as you stole my underwear."

I just stared forward and kept driving. Did she know about every date I'd had? How?

"Leave that for now," was what my brain came up with, "okay, easy one then. Why were your sisters a bit off with me?"

"Probably because they think you rudely dumped me last year for a Delta Gamma slut," she said in a matter of fact tone, "a few of them have had some run ins with ΔΓs. They're worried I'm letting you crawl back."

"You told them that? I wouldn't know a Delta Gamma slut unless it was tattooed on her ass so I could see it while I made sweet love to her. And then only because I know the letters from math."

"Not exactly, just didn't clarify when they believed that."

"Um, crawl?"

"We're very protective of each other," she said as if that should settle it. I decided it wasn't going to get better so left it.

We arrived at La Caille's valet and he opened her door and I noticed his eyes widen as she reached up to allow him to take her hand and help her out, seeing her chest in the circle of light. He managed to leave her as he came to the rear of the car, I pulled her blazer out after opening the trunk then closed it. I handed him the key and a dollar bill as we passed. I held the blazer out for her to pull it on and she left it unbuttoned while I glanced around at the gardens, impressive even this early in the year.

3 Scenes from a French Restaurant

We entered into the main dining room which was a polished wood floor with some fair number of tables, almost all of them occupied by elegant diners in suits, gowns and any variety of other clothing not common on campus. On that note, I seemed to find few diners that seemed our age other than what were likely offspring with their parents. I'd caught glances of the dining room from the kitchens during deliveries but had always entered through the back. I'd also never seen it in operation. From the size of the room I expected a louder buzz but the conversation levels seemed quite decorous.

As we approached the maître d' a second man just behind him in a black suit broke into a smile and tapped the former on the shoulder, then approached us.

"Good evening, Miss Dzhavo," he said, "so good of you to make it tonight."

She released my arm and they took hands and she turned her cheek to allow him to kiss it.

"Good evening, David, you're looking good," Carole said to him then stepped back and touched my arm lightly, "this is my friend Peter Miller. I've told you about him. Peter, this is David Jackson, one of the owners."

"Good to meet you, Mr. Miller," David said as we shook hands, "I hope you enjoy your meal. We'll pull out all stops for Miss Dzhavo."

"Please, David, just Carole."

They they both laughed a bit.

"Ah, good, I was wondering how long we could drag that out!"

I just stood and looked at both of them. Every time I managed to drag one bit of information out of Carole she sprang four or five more surprises on me. How would she know the owners of this place?

"Have you ever dined with us before, Peter?" David asked me.

"No, David, and I hope that there's nothing left in your kitchen from my last delivery."

He raised an eyebrow in lieu of asking a question.

"I delivered for Trading Post Fresh Seafood last summer," I explained. That got a nod from him.

"Well, enough of this, we have your table this way," he took two menus from the maître d' and led us across the dining room to a table at the far wall in front of near floor to ceiling windows, with a view of a floodlit fountain, Carole getting appreciative if fleeting looks from plenty of diners as we walked. I managed to not say the 'holy shit' out loud, this was some sort of prime table. What the hell did Carole have on this guy? David pulled out Carole's chair and she sat as he pushed it in, I helped myself, likely not what I was supposed to do but I was far enough out of my element to not care.

One last aspect of our table was that Carole's back was essentially to the rest of the dining room.

David gone, a waiter filled our water glasses and asked if we'd like any drinks. Carole shocked me when she asked for the wine list. I'd turned 21 a few months back so it made sense she was as well but added to what I didn't know about her was her birthday. That they didn't even ask for our IDs was either because they already knew or were too classy to care. The waiter handed her the list and trotted off to finally leave us alone.

"Do you like wine," she asked me, "I know you're driving but a couple of glasses with dinner won't kill us, right? I'll take care of the rest."

Then I suddenly realised her eyes were a shifting mix of hazel, green, brown and even blue as she shifted her head. This wasn't something I remembered from before, but I never noticed eye colors. I blinked a couple of times and she smiled and it seemed her eyes settled into a green hue.

"Red wine," I said since that seemed safest, "I'm usually a beer person but this is a French restaurant, so when in Paris..."

Our state's weird laws did mean one thing. One of us would have to walk over to the onsite wine shop and actually acquire the wine, as if we'd carried it from home. Then pay the restaurant to 'cork' it for us. To that end she pointed to a Cabernet-Merlot blend that meant nothing to me, I guessed it would be excellent.

"Off you go," she said to me with a grin, I smiled, stood up and memorised the name. I wasn't entirely surprised when the wine steward didn't charge me but rang something through for form's sake. I could get to like this. I handed the bottle to the waiter and sat down.

"I'll start with an easy question," I said after we'd each made it through the first half of our glasses of wine and some appetisers were in front of us, "how do you know the owners of this place?"

"That is easy," she said, her smile soft, "I volunteered to organise our sorority's winter social and I met with David and worked out a deal. Then I wrangled a few other socials and folks to come here. Everyone had always thought it would be too expensive but not if you know how to negotiate a deal. I'm a business major after all."

"I'll toast that," I picked up my glass and she did likewise and tapped her to mine, "you didn't invite me?"

"But lover," she said and her eyes went crazy-quilt for an instant before her smile went huge, "that wasn't too long after you dumped me for the Delta Gamma slut, I was heartbroken. My sisters fixed me up with some hot bod from Phi Delta Theta."

"How'd that go?"

"I teased him until he dissolved into a pile of quivering jelly," she said and did the eye trick another instant, "I'm good at that."

"Why yes, yes you are," I agreed, "and those frat boys must be weak."

"But after all that David told me if I ever wanted to bring someone special for dinner just let him know. So I did."

"And you knew I'd jump at the chance."

"I knew you'd jump me, not like the redhead's been all that, oh, forthcoming. Have I been wrong about anything today?"

I took a deep breath and my eyes felt like they were doing that same color trick but I think it was just a stroke. The waiter came by to collect the empty plates and refreshed our glasses of wine. As he was leaving Carole slipped off her blazer and slipped it over the back of her chair. My eyes did the stroke thing again. Her position meant that beside me only the waiter was likely to get a good view.

"You're... doing that to... muddle my brain," I said slowly as I stared at her breasts, her nipples at half-mast, through her sheer black blouse. I didn't even pretend I wasn't staring.

She just smiled at me as she sipped her wine, her eyes simply green but soft and kind. She kept her posture tall to ensure my view.

My eyes told her the waiter was bringing our main courses and she shifted subtly and obscured the view, the waiter set our plates down, offered fresh ground pepper, asked if everything was good. He seemed to glance at her a couple of extra times but didn't seem to react.

She shifted once he'd gone to offer me again the barely obstructed view. It struck me again that they had no right to be that firm and perfect.

My steak was perfectly cooked, which wasn't a surprise. She said likewise about her salmon. The food was soaking up just enough wine and I was adapting to staring at her chest so enough blood was being redirected back to my brain to allow me to think again.

"Why today," I took a sip of wine, "why today after, well, after you tried to tease me into a quivering pile of jelly last fall?"

She took one, then a second sip of wine and her eyes focused somewhere past me.

"When I arrived here in the fall," her eyes were still focused on that middle distance spot, "I saw you. I knew you, were, the right one. I figured out where to find you and I needed the stats class too. So that was easy. But then I tried to deny my nature."

I chewed slowly, even for this I wasn't going to waste this beautiful steak.

"Your nature?"

"I really, really, wanted to jump your bones. Just like I did today. But, that had gotten me in trouble back in Denver, and before that, so... I tried not to."

She took a breath, her eyes finally focusing back on me. She emptied her wine glass.

"That," I said slowly, "that I could understand. It wasn't that. It was that you acted like you wanted me but always stopped short. Just like with your frat boy. I decided I didn't want to play anymore."

"That's why I came back," she said softly, her eyes doing their thing for an instant and then she brightened, "you left me. No one's done that before."

"That Delta Gamma slut put out," I raised my wine glass and emptied it.

"Unlike your redhead," she shot back as she drained her wine glass.

"How do you know about Vicki? I'm driving," I poured the last of the bottle into her glass, "but I think I know how you always know so much about me. One of my first thoughts back in Statistics was that you were a succubus come for me."

Her eyes went slightly wide and the crazy quilt pattern started and kept going, but her expression went as serious as I'd ever seen her. She emptied her wine glass in one shot.

"Please," she said quietly but with some determination, "let's not use that word."

The waiter picked that moment to return and again her posture went such that he had no clear view. He offered us dessert menus, we took them. I ordered a coffee to help my driving and Carole asked for a tea. He collected my thoroughly-cleaned plate and her mostly-cleaned one and left.

"It's not the wrong word, though," I picked back up with the thread.

"No. And yes. It's not... like... you imagine it to be."

The waiter brought our coffee and tea and I ordered what I hoped was some sort of chocolate cake. Carole passed.

"I'll have a bite of yours," her eyes calm again but amused, "and I'll tell you more but let's wait until we're finished, ok?"

I nodded my agreement. The cake was on the way.

4 That Word, Again

I knew one reason this place was locally famous was its gardens and fountains, all hand-built by the owners and their families. I assumed that because it was still early spring and it was dark we'd miss out.

I was wrong.

I stood up, walked around the table and held Carole's blazer so she could slip it on as she stood, her back to the majority of the room. We met David again near the front and after assuring him it was the best meal we'd ever had, he had the look of a man who was used to hearing that. In my case, I wasn't kidding. Then he said that we should 'take the tour' and Carole assured him we would. It had cooled a bit from the day's heat but was still closer to a summer evening than last week's winter.

"Meet me there," she pointed to a different door than we'd entered, "I'm going to stop in the lady's room."

I nodded and followed along to visit the men's. I made it back to the door and waited a few seconds to see her approaching, her blazer buttoned, something different.

Oh. No shirt. Just a big smile and the momentarily dancing eyes. My eyebrows went up, but I put my arm out and she slipped hers past my elbow and we walked out. There was a softly lit path that would around the gardens and fountains, a few other couples likewise taking advantage of the surprise March conditions.

"It's not like it hid anything," she said in lyrical voice as she held up her now-stuffed purse hanging over her shoulder, "so I decided it could go."

She used her free hand to undo her blazer buttons, the flaps separating by a couple of inches, giving me a free view from above of her shapely right breast. The rub of material and cooling air drew the nipple to full attention. I thought of her green, cum-soaked underwear I'd hidden in my dirty clothes basket back in my room.