Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 36

*****

The performance over, and….

Did I see any of that….?

“I booked us a table at Luigi’s,” he says. “Is that alright? You like Italian?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. I made sure we would have a nice, intimate little spot, away from the eyes of the crowd.”

?????

What the hell’s he planning now?

The table is indeed ‘intimate’, tucked into a corner, away from the main body of the restaurant, and screened off by a wooden lattice and potted palms. We are, in a sense, visible from the main restaurant, but only to someone looking closely in.

We sit together, he holding out my chair to seat me. I’m unused to this kind of courtesy, but am beginning to take it for granted from Ryan.

What I have not started to take for granted is….

“They do a pesto spaghetti which is particularly good,” he remarks. “The basil grows in their own gardens at the back, and they make the pesto themselves.”

“You sound as though you know them well?”

“My mother is related to the chef.”

“You’re Italian?”

“Part Italian.”

“And the other part?”

“With a name like Dougherty? The other half’s Irish.”

“Who am I to argue with an Irish pasta expert? I’ll have the pesto spaghetti.” I say to the waiter.

“And I’ll have the same.”

The meal is, as promised, delicious, and I whirl coils of pasta around my fork. Sucking in the tail-end of one forkful, I startle as, below the table-cloth, my thighs are penetrated once more.

is a strangled

chuckles, one-handedly scooping and winding brilliantly green noodles. He glances around our cubicle. “I like it here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty of

up, and through my mouthful of

flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow

you good and expectant for later when I get my

already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my

while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser.

with that, he pulls free, wiping his

the napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful. How’s your

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

in arm across the river bridge from

know why you had to park so far

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening

feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant

because I’m going to bend you over the bonnet, and fuck you til you

I just

and turning to face him, “I think

think so.” he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m going to fuck you

we’re parked in a public place.” I

You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool

get arrested in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

sun chance to go down, because that’s what’s going

at the car, I consider

Master’s?…

away from any street lights. The setting sun is

me. “Stand

hard, heart hammering and pussy aching,

face the car and bend

over the bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the

are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them down behind

sex, fingers inserting. “That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m

pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the

times as he finishes opening me

could

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