Laura noticed his eyes first, of course. It was impossible not to; they were a brilliant blue in an otherwise unremarkable face.
"Gerald said you were exquisite," he said softly. "For once, he wasn't exaggerating."
Laura looked down at her salad. She never believed compliments, and so never knew how to respond. "How long have you known Gerald?"
"Since university," Michael said. "Never mind the actual number."
English accent, but he'd been in the U.S. a long time. Still, the polished vowels made her a little weak in the knees. Gerald would have known that, of course, would have known to find her a professional man, someone with something to lose if things turned ugly.
Gerald knew everything, really, and Laura wondered what it was about her that made him think she and Michael would be a good fit.
The restaurant was only half-full, and the hostess had tucked them away in a quiet corner, probably thinking they were on a date.
And they were, kind of. They'd seen each other before, at the play parties Gerald loved to throw. He'd taught her the game, a thousand years ago, and they'd remained good friends.
"You're a lawyer?" she asked.
"Isn't everyone in Washington a lawyer?"
"Not me," she said. "I'm a writer."
"Gerald mentioned that," he said, leaning back to let the waiter set their plates down. "A magazine, I think?"
Some kind of fish for him, some kind of pasta for her. She never noticed food when she ate with others; she wouldn't eat half of it, and wouldn't taste any of it.
Too self-conscious, she could hear her last master say critically. Too timid.
"Yes. Nothing you've heard of." She hated her job, didn't even read what she wrote any more. But it paid well. She took a bite, chewed, swallowed. Lobster ravioli.
"Try this," Michael said, offering her a bite of food from his plate.
His first test. She felt her face grow warm as she leaned forward to accept it. Could he tell?
He gave no sign, but speared a ravioli from her plate and popped it in his mouth. "Excellent choice."
"Have you been here before?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized her question could be taken any number of ways.
He smiled, acknowledging the undertones. "Yes, once or twice."
She smiled back, and wondered if he meant the restaurant or the discreet first meeting.
"Try the wine," he suggested. "It's very good."
Laura took a sip and was surprised to find she agreed. She didn't usually like white wine. It all seemed to be too dry or too sweet. "It's nice," she said, and took another sip.
"You prefer red?" he asked.
"I'm not really a wine person," she said, half-apologetically. "I think my taste buds might be defective."
He smiled again, warmer this time. "I doubt you have any defects at all," he said, and offered her another bite of his fish.
She blushed, but took the food. "Thank you. It's wonderful." She could actually taste it.
He liked the blush, she could tell. "They always do a good job here," he said.
They ate the rest of their meals in silence, but it was comfortable. The tight feeling in her stomach disappeared, and she found herself enjoying her food.
The waiter re-appeared when Michael signaled for more wine. "Do you still serve that dessert? Chocolate Indulgence, I think?"
The waiter smiled. "Of course, sir. Two forks?"
"One," Michael said. He smiled at Laura. "I expect you to eat half."
He stretched his legs under the table, and his knee brushed against hers. The tiniest shiver went through her.
"I'll have a bite," she agreed, trying not to stare at his hands. It was ridiculous how badly she wanted him to touch her.
The waiter came back with a wedge of some sort of cake. It looked impossibly rich. He set it in the middle of the table. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, this is perfect," Michael said. He offered her the first bite.
Taking control, she thought, and let him feed her.
"Heavenly," she said, and he fed her another bite, then another.
"Aren't you going to have any?"
He smiled. "I can enjoy watching you enjoy it and not worry about the extra time at the gym," he said. "Are you wearing panties?"
Laura looked up, shocked at the question.
"Yes or no, darling. Are you wearing panties?"
He had definitely taken control, she thought. "Yes."
"Take them off, please, and set them on the table."
She discreetly slid her skirt up and, raising her hips, slipped her panties off. Looking carefully around the room, she set the scrap of pink silk and lace on the table.
"Now, pull your skirt up around your waist and scoot your chair toward me," he said. His voice was crisp, very matter-of-fact. "Closer, darling."
She moved her chair another few inches until he could reach under the table and brush his fingers across her shaved mound. "So smooth," he purred, gently cupping her sex. "Do you always keep your pussy shaved?"
"Yes, sir," she answered, instantly obedient. God, she was hopeless.
"Gerald trained you well," he said. "Open your legs, now, darling. You're going to come for me now."
She opened herself to him, closing her eyes as his fingers sought out her clit. He began rubbing and stroking the tender little nub with one hand and with the other, he fed her the rest of the cake.
"Keep your eyes on me. We don't want anyone to know what a little slut you are, now do we? That's right, darling. Another bite for me," he said, so softly she could barely hear him. He found "the" spot, the one that always worked, and she gasped. "Shhh. Now, when you come, I want you say, very softly, 'I'm coming.' And I want you to keep saying it until your orgasm is finished. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered, afraid she'd scream if she spoke any louder.
"That's good," he said, his voice soothing as his fingers continued their sweet torture, rubbing and circling until she wanted to scream. But she sat, ladylike, and let him feed her another bite of cake. "That's very good, isn't it? Just another minute or two and we're going to see just how well Gerald taught you, aren't we?"
Her clit was swollen and hot and he began lightly tweaking it. Laura bit her lip, tried to keep her breathing steady, and Michael laughed, delighted by her struggle to obey his orders.
"Oh, you are so ready, aren't you? So ready to come for me, right here in front of all these people." He started strumming the little bud, and she couldn't breathe, then he gave it a quick, light pinch and she felt her hips beginning to rock involuntarily. "Keep still. I don't care how good it feels. You'll keep still and take it, or I'll bend you over this table and spank that naked bottom while all these nice people watch."
Another pinch and the orgasm took her. "I'm coming," she said softly, voice harsh as she struggled not to scream. "I'm coming. I'm coming. I'm coming."
The orgasm seemed to last forever, and she was sweating with the effort not to scream. But she managed to keep quiet and still as it swept through her. When it finally ended, she was flushed and trembling, barely able to sit up straight.
"Very good, my darling," he said, and she wanted to weep at his praise. "What a good little slut you are. Gerald would be so proud of you. Now, don't move, sweet. Stay just like that, spread open and ready for me. You've done such a good job that you deserve another orgasm, just for yourself. Catch your breath now, and we'll begin again in a minute."
"Please, sir, I can't," Laura whispered frantically. "I'll be too loud. Someone will hear me."
"Talking back? For that disobedience, we'll start again now. Not a sound, remember, or over that table you'll go."
He zeroed in on the magic spot this time, not needing to explore her, and began lightly rubbing again. Laura looked away for a second, trying to compose herself, and when she looked back, their waiter was beside her.
"Everything all right? Can I get you anything else? Sir? Ma'am?" He smiled at Laura, eager to please.
"No, I think we're fine, thanks," she managed, feeling the heat rising through her body.
Michael smiled mischievously. "Refresh my memory," he said, giving Laura's clit the slightest pinch. "Did this used to be a seafood place, or am I thinking of someplace else?"
The waiter launched into a long explanation -- touchy chefs, high fuel prices, over-fished oceans -- as Michael's fingers continued their stealthy, relentless play.
He asked the waiter something about the wine list and flicked her clit once too often, and she was coming again. "I'm coming," she said, a little louder this time, her hips rocking just a little under Michael's persistent touch. "I'm coming. I'm coming."
The waiter stared at her, taking in her flushed face. Then he glanced down and Laura knew he could see everything, her spread thighs, Michael's hand busy between her legs.
Michael's smile was bland now. "When you get a minute, do you think you could bring us the check? No hurry."
When he finally moved his hand, she was ready to weep with relief and embarrassment.
"Please, sir, may I cover myself?" she asked softly.
"No, darling, because I'm going to play with you again in a second. I just wanted to give you a minute to compose yourself," he said. "They do say the third time's the charm, don't they? Maybe I'll tease you and make you beg for it this time. Would you like that? All these people watching while you squirm over my hand? I'll bet the waiter's back there telling the whole kitchen what we've been up to."
She kept her eyes on the tablecloth, afraid to speak. When his hand slipped back between her legs, she closed her eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had pleasured her so effectively. And some part of her, the part Gerald knew best, wanted desperately to be reduced to begging for it.
She had realized a long time ago that nothing made her come harder than audience. Michael seemed to be a very fast learner.
His touch was feather-light on her tender clit, but they both knew it wasn't going to take much to make her come again. Clever fingers circled her clit, never touching the aching center, and Laura groaned, unable to keep silent as he teased her.
He grinned at her. "I'll let you come, but you're going to have to ask me nicely," he said, making her gasp as he quickly slid one finger deep inside her, then just as quickly withdrew it. "And you can't ask me yet, darling. Just sit there and take it like a good little slut; I'll tell you when you're allowed to beg for it."
The torment continued for several minutes, Michael teasing and withdrawing, bringing her closer and closer to release, then pulling his hand away. Laura somehow managed to sit still and keep quiet, forcing herself to stare at the wineglass in front of her.
She was just about to beg, unable to stand the torture for another second, when the manager appeared.
"Hi, folks," he said affably. "Just wanted to make sure everything was all right for you this evening."
His eyes went straight to Laura's crotch, where Michael's hand worked skillfully.
Michael smiled. "We're having a lovely evening, thanks. I was just about to give my companion permission to beg me for another orgasm. She's had two already, but some women...." He let his voice trail off, then turned to Laura and raised one eyebrow in an obvious command.
Face flaming, Laura managed to stammer, "Please, sir, may I come?"
"Louder, darling. I can't quite hear you."
She moaned as he tweaked her aching clit. "Please sir," she said again, louder. "May I come?"
His fingers brushed lightly over the quivering center. Laura realized one of the women at the next table was staring at them.
"Well, first I want you to promise that you'll announce it again, but you'll have to be louder this time," Michael said. "Do you promise?"
Just the slightest pinch and she was reeling. So close....
"Yes, sir," she moaned. "I'll be louder."
"You'll have to be louder than that," Michael teased, giving her another pinch. "Now ask me again to let you come."
Several people were staring now. Laura could feel a flush of heat building. Nothing like an audience, she thought again, almost triumphant. "Please, sir," she asked again, knowing her voice carried through the suddenly hushed dining room. "May I come?"
"Remember your promise," he ordered, fingers moving quicker on her overheated clit. "You don't want me to punish you in front of all these people." His hand shifted slightly, and zeroed in on the magic spot. One stroke, two, three and Laura was squirming, not even trying to be discreet as he finally allowed her release.
"I'm coming," she almost shouted, hips bucking under Michael's skilled fingers. "I'm coming. I'm coming."
He knew just what to do to make it last, she thought, just how to touch her to keep the waves of sensation pounding through her, and she cooperated enthusiastically, feeling the shocked stares of the other diners. The weight of their stairs only added to the pleasure coursing through her until she finally stilled, exhausted with pleasure.
Michael's eyes sparkled with triumph. "Pull your skirt down, darling." He handed the manager his credit card and waved the man away, then leaned over to kiss her warmly. Laura froze for a second, surprised by the kiss, then melted, opening her mouth to accept his warm, liquid tongue. Another kiss, and he lifted his drenched fingers to her mouth. "Clean me up," he ordered. "Taste yourself."
She was hopeless, she thought, obediently licking and sucking her juices from his fingers.
When she was done, he kissed her again, drawing her tongue into his mouth to suck on it. "Mmm," he said. "Delicious."
They were still kissing when the manager brought Michael's credit card back, then disappeared again. Michael released her, finally, to sign the check. "Let's get out of here," he said.
Laura could feel the stares as they left the restaurant, feel Michael's hand resting possessively on the curve of her ass as he guided her out to the street and around the corner to the driver's side of her car.
He unlocked the door for her, then leaned her back against it as he claimed her mouth again. He guided her hand to his crotch, to his hard cock pushing through the wool of his trousers. Not letting herself think, Laura quickly unfastened his belt, then his fly and dropped to her knees.
Michael groaned as she took the full length of his cock in her mouth, but he didn't argue. He laid his hands lightly on either side of her head, gently guiding her mouth up and down on his shaft.
She licked and sucked him gratefully, sliding one hand up to stroke and tickle his balls. She'd never given anyone a blow job on the street before, but she worked him over skillfully right there on K Street until he was thrusting into her mouth, unable to keep still under her greedy mouth. He barely managed not to scream as he came, and Laura swallowed as much of his cum as she could before licking his spent cock clean. She wiped her face quickly on his shirt tail, then stood as he zipped himself back up.
"Christ," he laughed, pulling her into another kiss. "Gerald didn't mention that."
Another kiss, and then he drew back to look at her. He studied her face for several seconds. "I think that you and I should re-consider the nature of any arrangement we might have thought about," he said. "I think, darling, that we might be more than playmates, if you agree."
Laura nipped his chin lightly. "More than playmates? You mean lovers?"
He kissed the tip of her nose. "Exactly," he said. "But lovers who play, publicly and privately. We'll set up a system of some kind."
This was a first, she thought. "We can talk about it. One rule, though. You don't share me unless I agree in advance."
That had been a sore point with her last master.
"Darling, I have no intention of sharing you at all, except to let others stare with envy," Michael said, and kissed her again. "Now, take me back to your place, and I'll give you a very nice spanking." Another kiss. "Unless you'd rather I spanked you here."
"On a first date?" She grinned up at him. "Just what kind of girl do you think I am?"