I push the metal handle and enter the dark cosy restaurant, where they somehow managed to cut out the chaos of midtown with soft lighting, music, and the city’s most precious resource, space.
The hostess notices my presence and smiles – I take in her youth, hazelnut skin, sculpted arms, her fashionable updo. A dancer or actor maybe.
“How can I help you?” She asks warmly, eyes perfectly highlighted with soft bronze hues.
My fingers run over the lump in my purse and I smile.
“I have a reservation – it’s under Broker, I believe.”
_ _
I’m seated at a corner table, right by the window. In the darkness of the evening, it turns into a mirror and its perfect for watching the few other diners while I wait for Matt.
I’m early, wanting to please, though I did consider not pleasing just so I’d be punished. My fingers trace over the petals of the floral centerpiece, taking in their softness, their sensuality.
I hear footsteps and I turn to watch Matt stride in. He takes his coat and mask off, placing them on his chair before looking at me.
His cool blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he opens his arms. I move automatically, surprised by this gesture of affection and I lean into his body for a hug, inhaling his now familiar cologne. His hands wrap around me, and I feel his chest press up hard against my breasts.
Maybe this hug wasn’t just about affection – fuck me.
“You look ravishing, Nyra,” he whispers, as a hand slides down the small of my back and cups my ass. Between what’s happening inside my body and this, I shiver from overstimulation.
He pulls away, and I see curiosity on his face.
I shrug and smile, reassuring him, and he gestures for me to sit. I sense his eyes on me, observant, as he watches me move, settle.
“It’s been a while,” he says, as he takes in how I sit down slowly.
“Yeah, it has.” I respond, as my eyes follow his jaw, his lips. The faint five o’clock shadow is back, and I want to feel that sandpaper between my thighs.
Between his travel and mine, we hadn’t been able to see each other. We sit in silence, drinking each other in with our eyes and just as my hand reaches for my purse, our server arrives.
She speaks with a slow midwestern lilt, her hair blonde, her personality cute as a button. We order our drinks and as she walks away, Matt leans closer.
“Are you ready to play, pet?”
“Yes, sir.”
The word pet might be an orgasm word soon enough.
“Take your bra off.”
I raise my eyebrows but smile, beginning to stand up to go to the restroom.
“Take it off here.”
I see the challenge and amusement on his face, and I smile back. I discretely look around and reach behind my back and unclasp my bra through my dress. I wriggle out of the straps, and feel the difference of soft cloth on my tits.
“I got you a gift, sir,” I say, reaching for my purse.
It’s now his turn to raise his eye brows. I look around the room to make sure no one was paying attention to us. I put away my bra and hand him the plastic device I’d been carefully carrying since I left home.
“Here,” I hand it over, one of my favorite toys. A toy I’d taken to the Met and to last year’s Holiday Market. One that had always been solo until now.
Surprise flashes across his face as he looks at the small black remote in his hand.
He presses a button and the egg springs to life, slowly vibrating inside me. My face goes blank in an effort to mute out the rush of intense pleasure. His face lights up, as he reads my expression.
The lowest setting did not usually make me react this way.
He turns it off and I relax, relieved to no longer feel so intensely aroused.
“I love some surprises, pet, and this one is a surprise,” he says, as he puts the remote away into his pocket.
I watch him, looking for signs that this surprise pleases him.
Our server returns and places our drinks on the table.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asks brightly. Her charm is on, and I can imagine she’s naturally very good at her job.
I wait for Matt to answer and the egg springs to life. Goosebumps erupt over my arm, at the embarrassment and arousal of this game.
“Nyra, didn’t you say you wanted to hear the specials?” Matt asks.
I try tamp down my body’s reaction, as I smile at the server as she rattles off the specials. I barely register any of the words she’s saying, nodding to hurry her along. From the corner of my eye, I see Matt looking amused and satisfied.
Just when I think she’s done, the egg moves up a level, and I let out a tiny gasp and a deep breath.
I feel my nipples start to harden, and I grab a menu and hold it up against my chest defensively, grateful that she can’t see the drip between my legs.
“I think I’m okay for now, thank you,” I say as calmly and kindly as possible. “I’ll keep the menu though.”
The server nods, looking to her credit only slightly confused, as she walks away.
I lock eyes with Matt, whose amusement is both arousing and irritating. He ups the level once more. The room goes dark as I close my eyes while an intense suppressed orgasm rocks through me.
“Please, yellow. Too high, sir,” I gasp, as I pulse around the egg.
The egg turns off and I heave a sigh of relief.
“Put the menu down, pet,” Matt says, and I obey. Right now, post orgasm, everything feels erotic, including the texture of the leather bound menu beneath my fingertips.
When I look up, I see Matt smiling at me with appreciation.
“How does it feel, pet?”
“Good,” I moan quietly, demurely. “Less overwhelming.”
“Good, now have your drink,” he says.
I reach for my cocktail and sip it gently. With each sip, he turns on the egg for a little bit before turning it off, all while having a conversation about our weeks, our day. With each on and off, my hips move in my chair, trying to somehow simulate being fucked. What a futile idea.
The server returns and Matt asks for the dessert menu. I order tiramisu and he decides against getting anything.
As we continue to talk, his palm caresses my forearm, his fingers run up and down my arm. While there’s some affection, I know what this is – its possession and he wants people to know.
Everything feels like a sensory overload, even if with egg off, my pussy is so wet that I’m concerned my thong was a bad choice. The dessert which arrived promptly, is decadent in its simplicity and I lick the cream off my fork as I watch Matt watch me.
“Give me some of your dessert, pet.”
I’m surprised by his request, but obey. The fork cuts through the softness of the tiramisu, and I reach out to feed him.
As soon as the fork touches his lips, the egg starts up and I almost drop it.
“Be careful, pet.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, blood rushing to my face and my cunt.
I watch his mouth wrap around the tines of the fork and goosebumps erupt over my arms as I imagine where I’d rather have his mouth be.
As I pull the fork away, he changes the mode and the egg begins to pulsate, two seconds of calm before a second of vibration. Somehow this setting is pushing me closer to the edge and I feel frustrated, desperate.
“Please, sir,” I whisper. “I need to cum, I need to feel you inside me.”