I hadn’t worn my wedding ring for many years, so I had no tan lines or compression lines on that finger or any other indications that I’d ever been married. Donna asked why I wasn’t married and I told her that I was many years ago and left it at that. She was quiet, hoping for more but I didn’t offer any and changed the subject by asking why she wasn’t married.
Donna caught the subject change and freely discussed her previous marriage and their divorce last year. She had no children but she wanted some. They both had. She didn’t bad mouth her ex and said that they just grew apart. They continued to be congenial but not friends. He was dating someone serious. She wished him well, although she made a point of the fact that the new woman was considerably younger; “She has a lot more time on her clock than me.”
My mind flashed back to her comment about wanting kids. She was in her mid thirties so I knew her biological clock was ticking and she was fully aware of that fact. A thought, ‘I wonder if I’m supposed to be the sperm donor,’ flashed quickly through my mind. I pushed it away.
The restaurant was beautifully decorated inside and out. The ambiance was perfect. We were seated at a small round table for two in a corner away from other diners. The table was covered by a bright red floor length linen table cloth. A candle flickered in the center. The table was set with expensive china and Waterford Crystal. I only noticed because somewhere in my house was stored the exact same china pattern and glassware. Maybe the restaurant would be interested in buying it. I’d never use it again.
Over dinner, Donna explained that the house that she and Sylvia lived in belonged to their maternal grandparents. They had died fairly close to each other and the house was willed to them instead of their mother because the grandparents were afraid that if they willed it to their daughter and she died before her fourth and current husband, that the house would then go to his kids from an earlier marriage. She and Sylvia were equal owners.
Talking with Donna was easy and I was having a great time. The meal was amazing. I was careful not to drink much because I was driving but Donna had enough so she was slurring her words a little and she struggled to appear perfectly fine. At one point, Donna bent over the edge of the table reaching to the floor. I figured that she’d dropped her linen napkin. As it turned out, she was unfastening the ankle straps on one of her stilettos. When she sat back up she had a sultry look on her face and then I felt her foot run up my leg and into my crotch. My cock reacted immediately. She worked her toes along the contour of my shaft and grinned at me as she nonchalantly raised her drink to her lips as she searched my face for a reaction. She didn’t say a word as she continued to drag the ball of her foot along my cock, which inexorably pushed back.
I was trying hard to maintain some decorum in this elegant setting but I was forced to emit a soft groan. She smiled at that reaction and pressed down harder. I glanced quickly around the dining room to see if anyone was on to us. No one appeared to notice anything.