#148) The Classy Restaurant Date – GRAPHIC CONTENT

Everything about this super exclusive restaurant screams hushed tones and old money. As we are shown to our table, I couldn’t help but recognize a senator and his wife over in one corner, and a table of several of the partners of our city’s highest priced law firm sitting in the opposite corner. For some reason, my date chooses to sit on the red velvet couch against the wall at our table. As Abe pulls my chair out for me, I think to myself, “I’ve got him trapped. He’s all mine.” This gnat doesn’t even realize that he’s in my spider’s web.
Abe seems overly impressed by wealth and ostentation, whereas I couldn’t care less. So he’s in his element and is loving every bit of this dining experience, and I’m looking for ways to lampoon the place, to puncture its inflated balloon of pomposity. And Abe’s.
I don’t know Abe well, we met over drinks about a week ago. I only know that he’s in banking, but didn’t come from established money. He doesn’t know that I was raised in a wealthy household, although my folks used it all up with a lavish lifestyle. So I didn’t inherit much at all when my parents passed, but I do know which fork to use with which course. I know that I feel comfortable in this environ, and he feels like a social climber. And we know that he’s a Top and I’m a sub, and that he derives a great deal of pleasure dating someone half his age. I’m young enough to be his daughter. I toy with the idea of calling him “Daddy” as we converse.
As we are handed menus that are as big a billboards, Abe tells me to order anything I want. Then he scans the right-hand column of prices and his eyes bug out.
“We don’t have to stay… if this isn’t what you expected,” I offer.
“No, don’t be silly!” he says, but I don’t think he means it. After a few minutes of perusal, he nervously asks, “What looks good to you?”
“I love scallops! I think I’ll just order that appetizer as my main course,” I say with a polite smile.
“That sounds great!” he counters, looking relieved that the meal won’t cost him his left testicle. When the waiter comes, Abe orders for both of us.
No one is sitting near us, it’s early in the evening. Nonetheless, I don’t used an intimate level of speech, I use more of my teacher’s voice when I inquire, “So, have you thought as much about spanking me as I have about being spanked by you?”
Again, Abe’s eyes grow big. He quickly puts his hand on mine, as he whispers back, “Of course I have! I’ve thought about little else!” His words are reassuring, his manner anything but; he wants to silence me. I won’t cooperate.
I take his hand in both of mine, and continue at the same decibel level.
“You have wonderfully large hands, and strong! Have you spanked many of your past girlfriends?”
Abe leans in, to model how to talk intimately, and whispers to me, “I’ve had several positive experiences in my past.”
I return just as loudly as ever, “I couldn’t date anybody who wasn’t a fellow spanko! It’s that important an element in my life!” As I state this boldly, I slipped my shoe off and rubbed my stocking-clad foot across Abe’s crotch under the table. I feel some tumescence. “Are you getting aroused from all this talk about spanking?” I expected him to be nonplussed from this overt move; but looking at him now, I thought he might have a heart attack! I liked this reaction; I used both stocking feet. “I’m pretty dexterous with my feet, don’t you think?” Just then our scallops arrived.
I think it was the fear that the waiter would see my feet in his lap, as well as the protuberance that took up a lot of said lap. Perhaps it was my dexterity, and the uninhibited topic of discussion. Or maybe Abe just has a hair trigger. Or it could’ve been a combination of any or all of these things, the outcome was the same. Abe lurched up off of the couch, his musculature was no longer under his control. He looked horror-stricken. A gurgling moan erupted from deep in his throat. Abe had ejaculated. It looked like one of those monumental climaxes, like a teenager having his first wet dream. It emptied his reservoir. He fell back down onto the couch. My feet continued to fondle him throughout, my toes felt his balls tighten, the balls of my feet felt his stiffy spasm, the soles of my feet felt the wetness through his trousers. Fortunately, they were dark in color, and did not proclaim that they’d been so thoroughly soiled.
“Look at the size of those scallops!” I marveled, and dug into my dish. “Ummm! So tender, so flavorful, it’s practically… orgasmic…!” I smiled at Abe across the table. “Try yours, you won’t be disappointed…”
Abe was trembling. He stared at his besotted lap. I tiny strand of drool dripped from the corner of his slack mouth and added to the puddle in his midsection. His mouth moved, but no words came out.
“Lost your appetite?” I asked of him as I finished my small plate. “Then, do you mind if I have yours?” I continued, starting to eat off his plate before the question was completely out of my mouth. “Ummm! So succulent, they melt in your mouth… or rather, in my mouth.” I leaned in across the table, spoke in the hushed tone that Abe had longed for, “I deserve a spanking for what I’ve done to you… but it doesn’t look like you’re up for it… you look spent…” I wiped the moist soles of my stocking-feet off on his thighs and slipped back into my shoes. “I’d hoped to infuriate you, piss you off so virulently that you’d turn me over this table, throw my skirt out of the way, and spank me here before God and all these snooty patrons. Unfortunately, it looks like your evening ended early. Hopefully, I can find another eligible Top at a bar; lord knows I need my bottom spanked hard… Well, thanks for the snack, Abe!”
As I sashay out of the restaurant, put a little extra wiggle in my walk. I sense the eyes of all the wait-staff on my ass, even a lawyer’s and a senator’s. All of them are thinking the same thing, how heavenly it’d be to date me, to have a chance at that ass. They ought to ask Abe about that…

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