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“It’s my birthday. I think you should give me at least a dozen.”
Janet’s declaration was cut off by the arrival of our waitress. “A dozen roses for your birthday? That sounds sweet.”
Janet corrected her. “Orgasms.”
The waitress’s mouth became an O, but her eyes smiled. “That sounds even better. I’m Maggie and I’ll be, um,…” – now her mouth smiled too – “… be taking care of you tonight.”
Maggie was mid-twenties, leggy, curvy, with an expressive, pretty face, and long brown hair in a plait down her back. She was dressed in black, a short skirt, and apron, with a blouse straining a little at the buttons over her breasts.
She cocked a hip. “What can I bring you to drink? Champagne to get you in the mood?”
As Maggie ran off, I turned to my wife and said, “You’re going to have to rely on my tongue for most of those twelve.”
“Well, Brad, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d spent an hour or two riding your face.”
Maggie overheard the last as she reappeared with the champagne. Even though we were seated on a crushed velvet banquette in a fairly private corner, she lowered her voice as she said to Janet, “Well, my lover’s face is my favorite place to sit, too.”
I smiled, “Janet tells me I have a very strong tongue.”
Maggie smiled at me. “My girlfriend and her husband could use lessons.”
Janet announced her plans to Maggie: “Tonight I’ll stretch Brad out on our Liberator Black Label Esse. I can cuff him down if he tries to squirm away.”
Maggie’s eyes got wide again and she licked her lips. “Ooh! I’ve always wanted to try one of those!”
Janet was flirting right back with Maggie. She was wearing a bright red dress with big buttons all the way down the front. She popped a button at the top and leaned forward. “It’s some of the most fun we have at our house.”
Once she’d poured the champagne, Maggie asked: “What’s your pleasure, er, what would you like to order tonight?” Janet decided to start with the Caesar salad, and then chicken with pine nuts and figs.
I looked at Janet, looked to Maggie and said, “I better start with the tuna tartare.” Maggie looked at me and rejoined, “Ah, starting as you plan to finish?”
“Exactly. And for the main course, pasta with oysters and asparagus.”
Maggie returned shortly with a cart carrying the makings of Janet’s Caesar salad. She started combining the ingredients for the salad in a large bowl, put a lot of body English into the process, making sure her hips were in motion, her braid was flipping around, and she had a spectacular rhythm going, in time to some music in her head. Janet was getting both salad and a show. It reminded me of the truism that dancing is foreplay on your feet.
As Maggie dished the finished salad onto a plate and leaned across the table to place it in front of Janet, Janet popped another button and made a production of fanning herself.
When she reached under the cart and brought out my tuna tartare, she served it with a wink. “I hope your tongue enjoys this, too.”
After starter plates were cleared away, as we were waiting, Janet reached under the table and opened the bottom four buttons on her dress. She grabbed my hand and guided it between her legs, where I discovered that she’d neglected to put on knickers.
By the time Maggie brought us the main course, Janet was softly sighing, biting her lip. I reluctantly brought my hand up from under the tablecloth, to my wife’s whimper of frustration, and Maggie’s knowing smirk. She scolded us, “I’m sorry, you have to finish dinner before you can have dessert.”
Janet was still a little flushed through the main course. We continued to chat, verbally teasing each other, and Maggie came by twice, with a swing in her step, to check on us.
Finally, the plates cleared, Maggie presented the little leather folder holding the dessert menu with a flourish. She slid it across the table so we could both see it. She had now opened two buttons on her own top and was bent over to make sure we could both see down her blouse.
“Can I tempt you with another treat to add to the birthday celebration?” she asked as she flipped open the folder. I broke my gaze away from admiring the lace on her bra to look down at the menu. The first card didn’t list the usual Crème Brulee and carrot cake but was a hand-written note: “You’re a very sexy couple. I’ve enjoyed the flirting but would love to really play with you both. I get tomorrow off.” Followed by an embellished “M”.
We all smiled. I reached into my pocket and laid one of my cards with our address and phone number across the folder. “I think getting off is a good thing to do on Saturday. How do you feel about lunch and trying our Esse?”
Janet looked at me, pretending wide-eyed innocence. “Brad, what will we make?”
I smiled back at her and together we said, “Sandwiches!”
Maggie gave us a bright smile and said, “Oh, boy! My favorite!” She pocketed my card and folded the dessert menu closed again. As she did so, another waiter came up behind her, a little flustered, and asked, “Oh, Maggie, is that a dessert menu? I need one right now.” She started to say, “But, Mark…” and before she could stop him, he’d snatched it from her hand and headed over to the table of two men having a business dinner.
Maggie’s mouth was wide open, but Janet and I dissolved into a fit of giggles