Fooled Me Twice Pt. 02

She drove towards San Francisco and told me we were going to Alice's Restaurant & Fine Dining. Going from sixty to zero in four seconds, we slid to a stop next to the restaurant's valet parking station. Liz escorted me to the maître d and tapped on his podium to get his attention, "Reservation for Mrs. Martin Stevens, please. I believe I reserved your best window table for two."

He did the finger slide thing they do, start at the top of his list, slide to the bottom, and then back to the top again, pretending he couldn't find her name. Liz placed her right hand over his left hand and slid a bill under it. He glanced down and smiled, "My apologies; how could I have missed it?"

Taking two menus, he handed them to a beautiful Asian woman and whispered to her, "Table one."

While being escorted to our table, my eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting in the packed dining room. Quickly I became aware that the only lighting was from the candle lamps on each table, creating a romantic atmosphere. After we were seated, our waitress took our wine order, and Liz requested an appetizer of oysters on a half shell. Holding hands and gazing out the window, the lights on the horizon drew our eyes to the stars in the sky, creating a beautiful panorama. My woman was, hands down, the most beautiful woman ever to grace this restaurant with her presence.

We had a fabulous dinner, not talking much, merely making love with our eyes. I barely tasted the food, although I cleaned every bit of food off my plates. Liz paid with my American Express card, and as we were standing up to leave, she whispered in my ear, her warm breath sending chills down my spine, "Wait until I reach the foyer before you leave the table."

As a guess, the slowest time to walk from our table to the front door would be maybe forty-five seconds, and only longer if a waiter was serving food, blocking your way. Instead of taking the shortest route, Liz strolled along a crooked path through the main dining room, brushing against male and female diners before pausing to apologize and flirting with anyone who caught her fancy.

By the time she was halfway through her promenade, you could have heard the vibration of a fly stuck to a spider web. Everyone in the dining area, patrons and waiters alike, silently followed Liz with their eyes. For the coup de gras, when she reached the restaurant foyer, Liz took out her lipstick, opened her engraved gold compact, and slowly touched up her luscious lips, aided by the mirror. Then, turning and facing the dining room, she blew them the Marilyn Monroe trademark kiss.

I followed, hanging my left hand down to cover my erection, and taking the shortest path to her side, I offered her my arm. She smiled, gave me the tiniest peck on my lips, and we walked out the door. While waiting for my car, Liz looked back and saw a crowd watching us through the glass.

"We're being watched. So, kiss me, Mr. President, and give them a show."

So I took Liz in my arms, dipped her, and laid a big kiss on her luscious red tips. Then, as my car pulled up to the curb, I pulled Marilyn up, and she curtsied to the crowd. Then, after helping me into the passenger seat, she bent over and buckled my seat belt, further entertaining the crowd. Once comfortable behind the wheel, she accelerated away from the curb and laughed. "Well, darling, how's your Valentine's day so far?"

Later inside my bedroom, Liz stripped my clothes off, threw me on the bed, and in no better words, fucked my brains out. Jumping on top of me into my favorite position, 69, she gave my dick two licks and a kiss on the head before raising up and sliding her dripping pussy all over my face. Liz was paying no attention to my cock, standing at attention and pointing at the ceiling; her only concern was how quickly I could make her come. It didn't take long after she started rubbing her clit with two fingers, and she emitted an earthy moan from her diaphragm as she pushed down on my face cruelly. Her body was shaking like an electric current was running through her body. When she stopped coming, she got up, turned around, and dropped her cunt over my prick without saying a word.

There was no lovemaking in our coupling tonight, only pure unadulterated fucking, and Liz could fuck. She was like a piledriver, and while riding me, Liz appeared to be possessed by demons from hell. I didn't use self-restraint tonight; just relaxed as she flowed over me like a scorching and unpredictable solar wind.

I howled as I came deep inside her, and she jumped up before I finished, flipping into 69 again, but this time as I was cleaning her out, she swallowed my cock and, within three minutes, restarted the blood flow to my staff. Twice more that night, I shot my load inside her, the last time as the sun rose in the east over the Santa Cruz Mountain range, and after each eruption, she planted her landing strip over my mouth, using me for cleanup on aisle five.

I don't remember falling asleep; in fact, I considered it a miracle that I was still alive. I rolled onto my side but was alone in bed with my thoughts as I struggled to remember what Liz said to me last night?

Rewind the recorder in my brain, hit stop, push the start button, and now I remember her announcement, 'Tonight and the rest of the weekend are my gifts to you.'

What gifts did I get? I was her arm candy at the gay nightclub; her driving nearly gave me a heart attack, I would've preferred eating dinner much earlier but wasn't asked, and in bed, I was an eight-inch dildo attached to the mattress and a stiff tongue for cleanup. Forty years from now, Liz might have warm and fuzzy memories of this year's Valentine's Day if we were still married. However, it's doubtful I would remember anything I liked about this day other than her using the restaurant's dining room as a runway for a fashion show.

I felt a pain in my belly like my bladder was protesting the amount of fluid my kidneys sent to it. So I ran into my bathroom, where I found a naked lady perched on my toilet, and I mean perched. Liz's toes clutched the toilet seat as she squatted down and was flushing her pussy out with a douche, making a tinkling sound in the toilet.

"I'll use the guest bathroom."

"Stop. Come here, Martin."

I complied and walked over to the toilet, squeezing the base of my dick so I wouldn't have an accident on the floor.

Still flushing, she pointed and asked, "Is that enough room?"

I wasn't going to argue, so I took aim and let the water cannon flow.

After emptying my bladder between her legs into the toilet bowl, the last thing I had to do was shake the snake. I stepped back to let Marilyn M. up, but she surprised me by pulling me closer and sitting down before wrapping her lips around the little head. Then, after fifteen seconds of cleaning, as I did for her at the New Year's Eve party, she stood up and planted a good morning kiss on my lips, even though it was starting to get dark outside.

When we ended lip lock, I whispered, "Liz, Honey? What day is this?"

"It's Saturday evening, 6:15, and I'm starving. Let's go to IHOP and have breakfast for dinner."

She put her dress back on, touched up her makeup, and slipped on her heels. Meanwhile, I put my suit back on but left the tie in my pocket.

She drove, and we were able to get a table fairly quickly. I ate a typical breakfast meal, but Liz ate twice as much. When our plates were clean, I noticed more than a few people staring at Liz, and more than one husband got slapped by their spouse for staring. After I paid, she peeled out of the parking lot heading north. Before I could ask where we were going, we were back at the Oasis Nightclub. After the valet opened her door, she slipped into her heels, and as she took my arm, I gave her a look that I had previously only shown to my mother.

I call it my 'What the fuck look,' as in 'What the fuck made you think I wanted clothes for my 14^th birthday instead of that telescope I showed you three times, Momma?' Of course, besides giving her the look, I also spoke loud enough that I received two weeks' restriction, but I never wore any clothes she gave me that birthday.

So the look I gave Liz meant, 'What the fuck are you up to, Elizabeth?'

As we entered the dance area, the roar of many conversations changed to whispers, and a slight pain popped into my forehead.

Liz whispered into my ear, "I need to go potty, so be a dear, ask someone to dance, and enjoy yourself." Then, she took off toward the sign for the bathrooms, followed by several lesbian bikers.

I looked around, and an attractive crossdresser I remembered from last night caught my eye. She was almost as tall as me, and the only clue she was a he was the large Adam's apple partially hidden by a scarf.

"Hello, I'm Marty, and my date has told me to enjoy myself. Would you like to dance?"

"I'm Gina, and I've been waiting since last night to dance with you, Marty."

He even sounds like a her, or maybe she sounds like a she or she said seashore; argh, stop thinking Marty and dance.

I led her onto the massive dance floor, and we danced close until someone cut in. I danced non-stop with a dozen 'women' and worked up quite a thirst over the next half hour. Surprisingly, something else was worked up, so I begged off another dance and made my way to the bar, hoping to make both problems disappear. I asked for water and drained the bottle I was given quickly. I looked around for Liz, but all I found were 'women' staring at me, glancing toward the back wall, and whispering inside small groups. Where was Liz?

I took a step toward the back, and the bartender, a woman who could pass for a man, stopped me with a hand on my arm, "Your girlfriend's back there, behind the door those two lightweights are guarding. Take my advice; get your girl, and leave. Don't bring her back unless she's collared and leashed. You, on the other hand, are welcome anytime."

Not sure how to take her advice, I walked toward the door and was stopped by two women sporting men's haircuts, dressed in black pants and t-shirts. Together, they weighed less than me, and I shoved them away, muttering, "My wife is in there, so get out of my way."

After closing the door behind me, I heard faint voices coming from the back of a storeroom, a room filled with bins holding extra-large food cans, toilet paper, and items associated with a restaurant and bar. Walking down a row of bins, I looked down every aisle, not finding anyone until reaching the next to last row.

At the end of that aisle, I could see a space lit up by overhead fluorescent lamps and hear Liz crying, "Owww. Stop, that hurts. Don't touch me there," and I hurried toward her voice until I could see three tough-looking ladies pinning Liz into a corner. First, a butt ugly redhead stood close behind Liz, hands under her skirt, and she was dry humping Liz's butt. Then the second 'lady,' a short-haired brunette wearing a black leather vest with her back to me, was roughly squeezing Liz's tits through the unbuttoned top of her dress and pinching her nipples. The third one, a cute blonde standing by Liz's left side, was licking the corner of Liz's lips.

Liz didn't appear to be in too much distress, and she wasn't struggling, but I could see knives in the back pockets of two of them. I stood quietly in some shadows and didn't interfere.

Liz cried out again, "Stop, don't pinch so hard; that hurts. You're gonna put bruises on my tits."

The bitch mauling Liz's tits reached behind her with her right hand, pulled out a knife, pushed a button at the base, and the blade came straight out the other end. She flashed it in front of my woman's eyes before snarling, "Your tits aren't the only part of your body that's going to get bruised. You're a stupid preppy college girl who strolls into our place like you own it, acting all high and mighty; well, that shit don't fly here. So I think I'll get Carol back here with her kit and have her put some paint on your lily-white skin before you willingly spend the weekend here pulling a train, eating pussy and ass while your two holes get opened up with strap-ons so wide you will never feel your boyfriend inside you again."

Uh-oh, game over, and no matter the consequences, it was time for me to take action. So I stepped out of the shadows and pulled the knife holding biker chick back toward me by her vest while grabbing her knife arm at the wrist. Then, hooking my left arm around her neck and squeezing her throat with the inside of my elbow, I pressed my left thumb into the area where her radial nerve was. She cried out and dropped the knife, so I let go of her wrist and pulled Liz away from the other two

Wow, the self-defense shit Joe showed me worked exactly like we practiced, except I was always the one with the knife.

"Thank you for watching my wife, but we came here to dance and have a good time with people that like to party. Come along, Liz darling, I have the next dance." I backed up toward the exit door, dragging my semiconscious captive with one arm and Liz with the other, and the remaining two antagonists were following me with knives in their hands. Liz was moving without my help, but when she looked over her shoulder, she choked out a warning, "Marty, behind you."

Now I really am a rocket scientist, but you didn't need one in the room to know we were in trouble. The two lightweights I pushed away outside the door were now blocking the way out, one holding a baton and the other twirling handcuffs.

I was thinking about my options against four women with knives when the door opened, and two female sumo wrestlers came in, the bouncers, I presume. There were no arguments from anyone in the room when they told Liz and me to get out and don't come back.

I started breathing again when I reached the sidewalk, even though my head was throbbing. I handed the valet a ten-dollar bill and asked him to hurry as I showed him a twenty in my other hand, and he took off running to get my car from their parking garage. While waiting, I took Liz's clutch from her, opened it, and snatched my house key and car keys out before tossing it back to her. Liz had not spoken since she said my name in the back room.

When the valet pulled up in my car, I walked around to the driver's door and sat behind the wheel. I did not offer to open the passenger door for Liz, and after she sat in the passenger seat, I peeled out of the parking lot before she could buckle her seatbelt.

I expected her to be angry or upset because I was driving, but at first, she disappointed me, "Wahoo, what a rush," she screamed through a maniacal grin as she pounded the dash with her hands. Then she snarled, "Who do you think you are jumping behind the wheel? Are you trying to ruin my night?"

"I am the owner of this steering wheel, and if I want to drive my motherfucking car, I will. Do you have a problem with that, Elizabeth?"

"All right, what's up with the attitude?"

I stomped on the brake pedal, causing the rear wheels to slide to the right, so I compensated to straighten out and squealed to a stop on the side of the road before shutting off the engine.

"What is wrong with you, Martin?"

"We need to talk." I wasn't smiling, and I was pissed off.

Her face turned pale, and I thought she might pass out. "Talk?" Her lips were trembling as she spoke. "What's wrong, Marty?"

"Do you know what would have happened to us if the bouncers hadn't rescued us? It would have been the two of us with empty hands against four with weapons, and the result would not have been pretty."

"Nothing would've happened, Marty, nothing I couldn't handle; they just wanted to party. The blond licking my lips was kind of cute."

I was shaking uncontrollably and felt like an ice pick was jammed into my right eye; the pain was so bad. I covered my eyes with my hands, and spit flew out of my mouth as I screamed, "Did you even hear the bitch with the knife talk about getting you tattooed or pulling a train all weekend and getting fucked with strap-ons?"

Never before had I been so close to hurting a woman, and to combat that anger, I reached for the door handle to exit the car and jump into traffic; when a light bulb lit up overhead, I heard a stranger's voice in my mind. The voice belonged to Gina, and when the words she spoke tonight at Oasis popped into my head, I went numb, wanted to die, and didn't want to be resuscitated.

While glaring at Liz, I repeated Gina's statement, word for word, in a falsetto voice, "Hi, I'm Gina, and I've been waiting since last night to dance with you, Marty."

Liz's face went blank.

"The first, um, 'woman' I asked to dance said that, and I just figured out why she said it. What a bizarre statement from someone I'd never met before, almost like someone else whispered in her ear last night that we would be back tonight."

Liz slumped deep into her seat while staring through the windshield but didn't say a word.

"How dare you? If you ever put your life or mine at risk again, you can walk back to your condo, even if we're in Los Angeles at the time, and I'll never speak to you again, ever."

I didn't wait for her answer; I just started the car up and burned out into a gap in the heavy traffic of San Francisco. I dropped her off at her building without a goodbye or a kiss and left. At home, I threw up and pulled a pillow over my eyes.

*****

I didn't call and deleted all her messages for an entire week. The following Saturday, Liz was sitting on my porch when I got home after having dinner with Chase and his girlfriend. As I trudged up the stairs to my front door, Liz sobbed, "I'm sorry, I went too far. It never occurred to me that my actions could be dangerous to both of us, even when you burst into that storeroom to save me."

With her neck bent, avoiding my eyes, she stood up and swore to me, "I promise, Marty, never again. I will control that part of me that likes to live way out there, on edge. And I want you to shut me down if I get too crazy for you."

Once again, we tried to make up, and she did defer to me if I said no about some wacky activity she wanted to try. However, I was still a little unsure about our relationship, and these feelings of uncertainty weren't going away.

After three weeks, without warning or explanation, Liz embarked on a hair brain scheme to balance the scales for her Valentine's Day faux pas.

I trudged up my driveway after my last class of the day, and Liz was sitting on my porch.

"Hi, Marty. Will you take me to the law library? They have a stack in the back of the library, and I need help getting what I want off one shelf."

I shrugged, drove her to the library parking lot across campus, and then escorted Liz through the open double doors. Once inside, Liz took my hand and led me on a swerving path to a library section near the rear emergency exit and dragged me to a dimly lit stack. She dumped some books on the floor, unzipped my pants, and pulled them down to my ankles.

She pointed at the empty shelf, and I sat down while she spoke, "Marty, we're still not okay yet, it's my fault, so I need to fix this."

Liz dropped to her knees, fished my hardening cock out, and nibbled around the head with her teeth before licking her way down the underside to my scrotum. Back at the top, she covered the head with her red lips and followed her tongue halfway down.

I moaned; Liz pinched my thigh hard and hissed around my dick, "Kiet," which I understood to mean,

quiet. I covered my mouth, wondering if I was on some pranking TV show. I guess I was still making too much noise because she stood up, removed her panties under her dress, and stuffed them in my mouth.

Back on her knees, her lips traveled from the head down to my groin, over and over, and I wondered how smudged her lipstick was. I could see a puddle of drool and pre-come building up on the floor, but I was still no closer to coming. With my cock splitting the space between her tonsils, her eyes glared at mine, and I wondered if we'd get caught before she made me come.