Dinner for Three Ch. 05

To understand what I am about to describe, you need to understand one thing: women have a much greater capacity for non-verbal communication than men. Subtle gestures, glances, and gentle changes in voice intonation are means of expression that are just as useful to us as speech. In addition, we communicate through our clothes, shoes, accessories, makeup, and perfumes - or the absence of one or more of these items. Each color, texture, shine or smell triggers a different message.

Men are only capable of speaking rudiments of this language. They understand that a low-cut dress does not convey the same message as a tailored suit; that a silk corset says something different from a comfortable beige panty; that a low-cut shoe implies a different composition than a high heel. But their understanding seems to stop there.

This is why we so often get frustrated flirting with men by these signs, because they don't even notice the flirting. They are not able to understand something that is not as direct as a road sign. If there is not a huge, flashing green light, it is not enough for them to take the next step; if there is not a bright red light they do not realize that they should leave us alone, that we are not interested.

I speak of this in the certain that it is not only me who has been frustrated by this male slowness to more sophisticated forms of communication. Several of us have sent signals that we thought were clear as daylight and, with no response, we felt deliberately ignored. Only to find out later that the guy didn't even understand that we were in the mood. It's like flirting with the wall.

Fortunately, however, that night, for the first time in my life, I would flirt with someone who really understood my signals.

The preparation for the evening began with the proper choice of dinner. I could not serve something heavy, that would make all of us stuffed. This would prevent or jeopardize the "after". Furthermore, the dishes could not suggest that this was a time for gluttony. The meal needed to leave room for me to fit in my favorite capital sin, which is not gluttony, but lust.

To this purpose, I opted for a light meal. A fresh pasta with a salad.

The obvious frugality of the meal indicated that the main event of the evening might not be exactly on the table, but somewhere else (well, maybe also on the table... Who knows?)

On the other hand, the wines seemed important to me.

So I suggested to Arthur that we serve some of the great wines we had brought from Europe. It would show care for the guest, indicate a dose of sophistication and, above all, make the atmosphere lighter. As the glasses of pinot noir, cabernet sauvignon, and nero d'ávola went dry, Cassy would loosen up, I was sure. My husband probably only figureds out why I wanted to serve the best wines at an "ordinary" dinner after the evening was over.

Having decided on the menu, all that remained was to get ready for work, where I would only have to do the afternoon part of the day.

I took a long shower.

The hot water fell on the back of my neck and ran down my back to my buttocks and down my breasts to my crotch. The warmth of the water joined my expectations for that night and my fingers sought out my clit. I leaned against the wall of the shower stall, spread my legs slightly and imagining myself sharing that shower, I began to masturbate.

I thought of Cassy on her knees in front of me, sucking my sex, rubbing her tongue over my clit and pressing her hands to my thighs. Meanwhile, Arthur would be behind me. He would be kissing my neck, while fondling my breasts and penetrating me. I would be in the horny state, being stimulated by Arthur and Cassy. His cock sliding in and out of my pussy as she sucked me. It was inevitable that at some point the hard member would slip out and end up touching Cassy's lips as well. She would suck it, getting a taste of me on my husband's cock, and then she would put that cock in me again.

I could feel the arousal taking over me. A heat rising from my privates up my spine to the back of my neck. My nipples swelled, pointing forward. My legs losing strength as muscle spasms that felt like light shocks coursed through my body. Instinctively I arched my body, arching my buttocks, as if to facilitate the penetration of that imaginary phallus.

I stopped.

I needed a great deal of willpower to regain control of my actions.

I pulled my finger out of my pussy and cooled the water in the shower.

I couldn't come. I needed to be horny until the night. I needed to be exhaling sexual energy from every pore.

I got out of the shower, my legs still a little shaky, and went to change. I already knew what to wear.

Cassy would arrive in the late afternoon, which meant that I should go to the office with the right clothes. So I opted for a tight, dark red dress, slightly above the knees. Something sensual, but that I could still wear in the work environment without drawing too much attention.

The look was completed by black sensual lingerie, which did not show under the dress, and shoes that emphasized my feet.

I left the perfume to apply on my way out the door.

The afternoon took a while.

Once again I looked at the intern.

For a while I daydreamed about that girl. It could be her in Cassy's place today. She was attractive. She had a nice body, with proportional breasts and a sensual curve at her waist. Her hair, although too long and a bit uncut, was beautiful. Who knows if behind that young religious brunette there was not a hot woman who would give Arthur and me a hard time for an entire evening?

No. I don't think so.

If the gossip was true, she was just a young college girl who was still a virgin and somewhat innocent. She would not have the voluptuousness to satisfy us. She would be doomed to marry her first boyfriend soon and forever think that the mommy and daddy stuff they did was all she could enjoy. She was never going to accept a threesome. She would remain purely bland.

Too bad. That body exuded a natural sensuality. She had the potential to become a volcano in bed. Angela was her name. Like an angel, not the little devil we needed.

That afternoon the anxiety seemed to slow down the pointers of the clock.

When it was fifteen minutes before the end of the workday, I went to the bathroom. I touched up my hair and discreet makeup and perfumed myself. Neck, breasts and forearm. The slightly provocative fragrance enveloped my body. I lifted my dress, pulled down my panties, and applied a drop or two to the curve of my pussy. With luck, this pleasant aroma would be noticed later in this strategic place.

I looked at myself in the mirror: I looked powerful.

Confident, I waited for Arthur to pick me up.

When I got into the car he commented that I looked beautiful and kissed me. He had no idea what was going on in my head.

We quickly went to the supermarket, picked up the items on the list I had made, and from there we went to the airport. Cassy's flight would be arriving soon.