The restaurant is dimly lit, just enough light to be romantic and cozy. The waitress I flirted with last week gives me a broad smile as we sit at my regular table. Usually I dine alone, but not tonight. You look fantastic in that shimmering black dress. It shows just enough skin to be enticing, and hugs tight enough to shows all your sexy curves.
The food is good, and the wine is better. But we hardly notice; we're too busy talking and laughing about our afternoon together. I'm having so much fun; I can't remember the last time I laughed like this. I don't know if you can tell, but I am hard all through our conversation, just from being with you and thinking about what might happen later.
It is right in the middle of dessert that I feel something brush my leg. Without looking, I knew that your bare foot was sliding its way up my leg. You sit calmly dipping a strawberry into the chocolate, then the freshly whipped cream, and then you look squarely into my eyes as you giggle and lick its rounded tip clean. When you smile that sexy smile of yours, my heart pounds.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, somewhat embarrassed. "Just enjoying my dessert - aren't you enjoying yours?" you ask innocently, continuing to nibble on your strawberry.
Your smile suggests everything but innocence. There is silence for a moment, and then you get this gleam in your eye. You push the sole of your foot against my leg, heading toward my crotch as I squirm in my seat. I'm sure that someone is going to notice your fancy footwork. "You're teasing me," I moan, feeling my arousal grow by the second. You laugh, then insert a gooey finger into your mouth. Slowly, you suck all the chocolate off, a look of pure enjoyment on your face. "Mmmm, I love chocolate!" you whisper, while you wiggle your toes at me.
"I can play games too," I say, picking up my fork. You watch with wonder as I dip it beneath the table, and hold it there. I grab your ankle, and your foot squirms slightly in my hand, but you realize it isn't going anywhere. "And, just what are you going to do with that?" you ask, mildly concerned. I look into your eyes, grinning as I whisper, "Your feet aren't ticklish, are they?" The look on your face says they are, as I wait for the waitress to near our table as she heads for the kitchen. Smiling, I stroke the tines of the fork up the length of your sole. The squeal you suppress still catches the attention of the waitress.
"Everything all right over here?" she asks, approaching your side of the table. "Yes, yes just fine," you reply, your foot still twitching. "Are you finished with your dessert?" she questions, not showing any signs that she's aware of what we're up to. "No, not yet, we're still enjoying it," I answer. You nod, then jerk visibly as the fork tickles your foot again. By that time the waitress had left again, and did not hear you giggle under your breath.
"Now who's teasing? If you're through, maybe we can pay the bill and go somewhere more interesting," you say, returning to finish your last berry. Your foot strokes me again, as you try to get my mind off of tickling you.
"Sounds like a good idea," I say, dipping a strawberry deep into the chocolate sauce, "but I'm not quite ready to go just yet." Drawing the delicious fruit toward me, I stop short of my mouth and watch as the dark chocolate drips down onto your foot in my lap. You can't believe what I'm going to do, right there in the restaurant.
You stare wide-eyed at me as I slowly raise your foot up, while I dip my head toward your toes. I can see where the chocolate has hit your big toe, then run down as far as your arch. I hear you take a deep breath as my tongue reaches out to your foot, then slides slowly upward, skimming the sticky sweetness from your beautiful sole. When I get to your toe, I put it in my mouth, and swirl my tongue lovingly around it.
Your eyes are closed, and you enjoy the feeling, but you giggle because it tickles. When my tongue slides between your toes, you gasp, clasping a hand to your mouth to trap the laughter that was about to escape. Suddenly, we see an older couple being shown to a table nearby. Before they can discover what we're doing, I release your foot, which you quickly return to its shoe on the floor.
"Well, that was ... fun," you say, finishing the last of your meal. "Yes, it was," I add, "but it's too bad we had to cut it short. I was just getting started. Grinning, you respond, "Me too."