Just a Simple Romantic Dinner

This is my entry for the Valentine's Day Story Contest 2024. It could have been placed in Fetish or Exhibitionism or even (friendly) BDSM, for there is a trace of each in it, but on the whole, it contains too much laughter to be placed anywhere but here in Humor, especially on this special day for lovers.

Please enjoy.

+

I dropped the bag on my bed before looking out the window. The day had been clear and cold and the sun was just on the horizon. Such trees as I could see against the sunset were still, hardly moving.

Hesitant, not yet fully committed, I examined myself in the full-length mirror on the wall. I stared at my eyes in the reflection, waiting for them to blink, an unwinnable game of Owl.

Uncertain but eager, my mind was racing like a mouse on its wheel.

I could, I knew, go with the simpler Plan B - a romantic dinner at an elegant dinery before returning to his place. Millions of couples around the world would be doing much the same.

And the 'after' be world-class, I knew. Todd, my boyfriend for almost six months now, had proved an excellent lover - thoughtful, knowing, empathetic, gentle but strong when needed.

And delicious! His body was lean rather than buff, a runner rather than a gym-rat, but he was in very good shape. He was eye-catching, too - clean-shaven, eyes the colour of a mountain stream and always — always — well-dressed. Square-jawed and broad-shouldered, had he been a bit taller, he might have done very well as a model.

His smile had lit my fuse the first time we'd met. He was a keeper.

I'd made reservations for an intimate, four-star French restaurant on the main drag, within walking distance of our places. I'd gone so far as to order and pay in advance, including a handsome tip to the maître d' for his people. I was confident both in the meal and what was sure to follow.

There was just one question remaining. The vanilla Plan B would please him, I knew, but...

Plan A.

Plan A was the evening I hoped  would happen, the one for which I had been working up my courage - the daring one, in other words, the one making me challenge myself.

Turning away from the mirror, I emptied the bag onto the bed.

+

"Really?" He'd initially seemed uncertain when we'd discussed it, that gentle dance of boundary surveying all new lovers eventually do.

"I think so," I'd replied. "I mean..."

I'd waved my hand over the two of us enmeshed in a happy tangle of sheets.

My heart still working on a double-beat pace, I'd pulled my body closer against his, gloried in his warmth and strength and love, the blessing of shared skin.

I'd kept my voice low.

"You're a wonderful lover, Todd, but I'm open to trying new things. If you want to."

Todd was easy-going and pretty open-minded, but I'd suddenly wondered if I had been too forward, had strayed inadvertently into some unknown emotional minefield. I'd lifted my head off his shoulder so I could see his eyes.

"I'm asking what would please you,  Todd."

I'd lowered my head and, ear on his chest, listened to his heart in the dim light. The room smelled of love and sex and the roses he'd given me on arrival. He'd been gently stroking my head with his free hand, thinking perhaps. I'd waited, wondering if I should say more, maybe explain. I'd counted about ten slow double-beats before his arm over my body tightened in a gentle hug.

"I do love you, Kate. And you're a very good lover, too. So, yes. Experimenting might be fun."

His hug grew had grown stronger.

"Thank you."

+

But that had been weeks ago. I'd wondered, thought of asking again, eventually decided that this was the 21st century, that I could take the initiative. Then, of course, I'd changed my mind. And again. Last week, I'd made up my mind for sure.

More or less.

I knew him pretty well, I thought. I knew me. And I'd done some research, with results running from ick!  to whee!  I thought had a pretty good idea what he would like, what he would find exciting without going too far over the line. Men like daring, right? Still, how daring would I allow myself to be?

With the obvious day approaching, I'd made some calls, done some discreet shopping and had managed to invite him without losing my nerve. I was committed.

Mostly.

+

I was surprised to find my hands shaking now, just a little, but it was time to get dressed. I took a deep breath, found my courage and watched myself in the mirror unfastening the buttons of my blouse, a deep-breath pause between each one.

The tails of the garment caught a little in the waistband of my skirt when I tried to pull it loose. I unzipped that, let it fall to the floor. Bending down, I picked it up, folded it neatly and put it aside.

The blouse proved easier to manage now, sliding off my shoulders and down my arms. I folded it too and placed it on my skirt.

Unhooking my bra, I spent the usual minute rubbing the red lines on my shoulders and ribs. For the ten-thousandth time, I wondered why it was so difficult to design an affordable brassiere that wouldn't leave marks. Hello? Half the world's got boobs! There's a market out here!

Thumbing pantyhose and panties off my hips together, I pushed them down my legs to the floor. A small shuffle and a toss of my foot raised them to my hand. I placed the panties with the rest, examined the pantyhose and, seeing the beginnings of a run, dropped them with a pout into the garbage pail.

I turned my attention back to the figure in the mirror and smiled with her.

I shook my head, watched a wave flow down the length of our hair. I'd considered having my stylist put together something showy and maybe even formal, but realized it might be a distraction. We'd settled on just a trim, letting it go loose, with the ends just touching the upper side of my breasts.

I licked my lips, watched my tongue run over them, smiled again experimentally.

Yes.

I returned my attention to the pile on my bed, poked through it with a forefinger, separated the various items.

Where to start?

I'd showered, of course, and had shaved that morning. I'd considered trimming my usual designer triangle of fur into a heart but had discarded the thought as just a bit too cutsie. I checked my nails for cracks or chips, ran one nail over my tongue tip.

My makeup needed no major work, but I took a moment to touch up a couple of minor flaws. I smiled at myself and felt a slight weight grow in my abdomen, an acknowledgment of sorts.

Looking good, girl!

I again examined the small pile, decided to start with the most obvious, a very simple red — no, scarlet — corset.

Leaving both my boobs and hips free, it was less than an underbust corset, more than a mere waist-cincher. I ran a finger over stiff stays hidden under creamily-soft satin. I smiled again, then frowned at the tangled thing in my hands.

It had seemed so simple when the girl in the shop had demonstrated, but now, by myself for the first time, putting it on seemed to take forever. I wrapped it around myself, fastened the front busks and was half-way through the laces in back before I remembered the suspenders.

Muttering one brief smoldering Anglo-Saxonism, I took it off, fitted the suspenders and started over. I was realizing why rich women had had ladies' maids long ago. Looking over my shoulder in the mirror helped, but it still took me a couple of minutes to get everything aligned and tight. Well, tight enough; this was about libido piracy, not permanent waistline alterations.

I got it on eventually, hoping nobody in the next apartments had heard my muttered comments on lingerie design.

My frustration vanished when I finally examined myself in the mirror. While it certainly had narrowed my waist noticeably, this modern corset wasn't some breath-stealing Victorian monstrosity. It felt very feminine and surprisingly comfortable. I was surprised at how wanton it made me look, but that was the point, wasn't it? I could feel myself react, a tightening here, a slight swelling there.

I watched the girl in the mirror turn back and forth, run her palms over her bare bum, then, one at a time, float her fingers lightly over her nipples. I shivered at how good it felt. I stood back again, examining, appraising.

Yes.

This would do.

I tried to imagine his reaction when he first saw it and broke into a grin. Confidence grew.

Next on the list was a pair of red nylons - real nylons, not quite fishnet, but having a mesh open enough for me to see my skin. Easing them into place also took a minute, made surprisingly difficult by the corset hampering my bending at the waist. This I hadn't anticipated and wondered for a moment if I would have to take it off, but eventually managed. There were eight suspenders and they were an equal nuisance to get straight and even, but, once finished, I stood back and checked myself in the mirror.

My smile grew almost carnivorous. As I'd hoped, the whole definitely exceeded the sum of the parts. I was, to my eyes, exciting, somewhat exotic, very beautiful - and utterly desirable.

Not to mention a head-turning fugitive from vanilla.

I went minimal on jewellery, limiting it to silver hoop earrings and a thin silver necklace.

The necklace was long enough that the small chrome handcuff key hanging from it lay almost between my breasts. I was pretty sure he'd catch the symbolism. I grinned at that, too.

I'm not overly fond of wearing high heels, but am totally fond of what they do for  my legs and to  my man. With the rest of my costume, their bright red colour might as well have been a flashing neon sign. Well, why not? It wasn't as if I was afraid of getting his attention. That was the idea, wasn't it?

I turned carefully, studied myself, shifted the corset slightly, adjusted one stocking, nodded in satisfaction.

Tonight was definitely a night for full-throttle perfume. Normally, I'm reserved with scent, but tonight would be different - wrist, ankles, behind my ears, cleavage, navel and inner thighs.

I thought of Todd in his apartment right now, almost certainly looking forward to a fairly normal night out. It took me a minute to stop giggling.

My grandmother always recommended brushing my hair with one hundred strokes every day and I've tried to follow her advice. Sitting at the dressing table, I took my time, enjoying each stroke, watching lustrous black hair ease through bristles. Finished at last, I checked the top of my head for a straight part and, satisfied, shook my head, delighted in the way it flowed over my shoulders.

My phone beeped a reminder -- it was almost time.

Disdaining anything else over the corset and hose, I pulled a coat out of the closet, my best coat, red wool with a lining of real silk. Carefully, I did up the long row of buttons. Finished, my thumbs pulled my hair out from inside and I let it fall over my back.

With the buttons fastened to my neck, I looked much like any other young woman in cold weather. I decided that I wouldn't need a hat, but some light gloves seemed a good idea.

I retrieved the last few items off my bed, returned them to the bag and tucked my purse strap over my shoulder.

I was grinning wickedly to myself as I locked the door.

+

My heels tapped out their distinctive sound on the sidewalk. The coat was warm enough, but distinctly drafty in ways it had never been before, the winter air finding its way into places normally denied access. Moreover, while the silk lining was certainly very soft, I hadn't anticipated its constant shifting over my skin as I moved, endless fairy kisses utterly unlike the feeling of normal clothing. Its continuous caresses as I walked meant my nipples were soon stiff as nails. I smiled -- not only was it exciting in its own right, but they would certainly get the boy's attention when the coat came off.

Eyes followed me as I passed. I was used to that. Solo men smiled; those with partners smiled more out of the corner of their eyes. I was used to that, too.

Todd must have been waiting by his door, for it opened at my first knock. I stepped into the warmth, into his welcoming smile, folded into him as he held out his arms.

He smelled good, felt comfortingly solid under my hands, but I gave a small gasp when I saw past him into his living room.

A romantic to the core, he'd lit dozens of candles, filling the room with warm, flickering light. Such a welcome on a night for love!

He bent in to kiss me, but our lips had barely touched when he stopped suddenly, his hands paused over my waist. He pulled back, clearly puzzled by the unexpected feeling of the corset stays under my coat. I merely smiled and batted my eyes, giving him no clue.

"Um, hi!" he finally said. "Is that... I mean, is that something for tonight?"

Clearly he hadn't figured it out.

I nodded gravely, giggled inside.

"It's a surprise," I'd said when he'd originally asked for details. "This one's on me and it's a secret. Just be ready at seven, with us leaving by half-past."

Beyond that, I had told him nothing. It was supposed to be special and romantic and secretive and exciting.

I thought I was nailing all that now and ignored his question.

He was nicely dressed, I saw - not too formal, but wearing slacks and a good shirt he could up-style with a tie and jacket in a few seconds once he saw what I was wearing.

"May I take your coat?" His hands came out as if to help; he looked surprised when I shook my head.

"No. No, thank you. I have a question first."

He raised his eyebrows, nodded.

"Today's my day," I said softly, "the day I get to take you  out, yes? My choice, my ideas, right?"

He nodded.

"Then let's begin."

"Okay?"

He seemed hesitant. That worked for me.

His eyes ran down the length of my coat, as if he were trying to figure out what I had on underneath it.

Good again.

I kept my voice gentle, but put a little bit of steel into it,

"First off, you have too many clothes on. Peel."

'What?"

"You heard me."

Eyeing me curiously, he began undressing.

"Not that I'm objecting, Kate, but I thought we were going out. I don't have anything ready."

He tossed his shirt to one side, eyed me curiously.

"You'll see. Just do it."

Soon enough, he was bare. We had been lovers long enough that he wasn't embarrassed to stand naked before me, but his curiosity was clear.

"Stand up straight, please. Hands behind your head."

He froze for a moment before complying. I sensed his mind running back to our discussion weeks ago. His nostrils flared slightly and I knew he had suddenly noticed the perfume.

"Better," I said, "Now don't move."

I stood in front of him, undid the top button of my coat. His eyes followed my fingers.

A second button. I pulled the lapels back a little, settled the coat more squarely on my shoulders.

The third. His eyes lingered on my cleavage and a low smile grew in his face.

"Hey," he started, "that..."

I tried to be loving but firm, just to set the mood. I was the one giving directions.

"Did I say to speak?"

"No. Sorry."

My inner grin grew -- this was right on track!

His attention became totally focused as my hand flipped the fourth button loose.

Men! You don't need to be a mind-reader.

I shifted and the silver-plated key was now visible between my breasts. His jaw dropped slightly.

Bingo!

Another button, clearly revealing cleavage gone feral. His hands moved away from his head, down towards me.

"Don't move!"

His hands returned to their place. His smile grew; I suspected he now had some idea of where this was going.

Well, hopes, anyway.

Two final buttons and the coat swirled open. I turned back and forth, offering brief glimpses before I shrugged it off, caught it in one hand.

It took me but an instant to turn and drop it on a chair, but when I looked back, he was already erect. As I watched, his low-hanging sac tightened up towards his body, wrinkled skin pulling tighter over his tender twins.

Yessss!

I smiled, stepped to him, ran a finger along it. I laughed when it bounced, saw the fire growing in his eyes.

I kissed his cheek lightly, stepped back, did a slow pirouette in front of him. When I finished, his breath had caught, his nostrils were wide and his cock had grown harder, darker.

His eyes followed my hands as they reached into the bag I'd brought. I could see his sudden uncertainty as they emerged with a 20-foot length of soft nylon rope.

Doubling it, but leaving a loop big enough in the middle for his head to fit through, I'd already tied three simple overhand knots about six inches apart. When I put the loop over his head, the rest fell down his chest, hanging limply beside his engorged manhood.

He licked his lips and I giggled.

Kneeling, I tucked the loose ends between his legs, carefully arranging them so one line passed to either side of his package, then, from behind, I pulled both ends up between his cheeks, up along his spine before tucking them through the loop around his neck.

"Too tight?" I asked softly as I gave them a slight tug.

"No."

I passed the end of a strand under each of his armpits, stepped in front of him, fed them into the doubled line between the first and second knots. When I gave them a little tug, the cord set a little ways into his flesh and the twin cords between the knots opened up into a diamond shape over his breastbone.

Again around to his back, passing the ends through the double line along his spine, then forward once more, back under his arms.

The ends went between the second and third knots, then to his back again. When I stepped in front of him again and pulled gently on the ends, another diamond had formed, this one over his upper abs.

I smiled up at him, ran my finger along his erection again, circled his mushroom with a fingertip.

"How're you doing?"

"Fine. Good."

His voice sounded just a bit ragged.

"But...?" he whispered.

I cut him off, finger to his lips.

"Shh!"

Having again passed the line around to his back, I spent a few seconds pulling any slack out of the pattern before moving to his front one final time. When I slid the two loose ends under the double rope over his navel and pulled on them, a third almost-diamond opened. I tied off each cord separately

I rose to my feet circled him and smiled in satisfaction. The pattern of pale cord stood out well against his dark skin.

I was delighted at the effect but still surprised. Was it really me  doing all this?

"Keep your hands up. Come over here and take a look."

He turned in front of the mirror, looking over his shoulders as he did so. His smile just about touched his ears.

"You like?" I asked softly.

"I like. But..."

"But?"

"I can't picture us going out for dinner like this. Should I order in?"

"You'll see."

On impulse, I dropped to my knees in front of him, rolled his balls gently and, careful of my lipstick, lowered my mouth over his organ, took him deep within me.

Once, twice, three times with my tongue working the underside of his shaft and head, then I pulled off and rose.

"How does it feel?" I asked, a finger lightly lifting a bit of cord off his chest. "Be honest."

"Good. Surprisingly good. I'd never dreamed... It really does look, um, spectacular."

He looked down at the wet stiffness in front of him.

"But I can't go out like this!"

"You'll see."

His smile changed, became gentler, but more eager, if you know what I mean.

"Lie down on the sofa, dear. Now spread your legs. Wider."