Once inside, Paul said to the beautiful young maître d, “A reservation for Silver.”
The woman looked down and said, “Oh, Mr. James wants to meet you.”
“Oh, okay,” Paul said, slightly surprised. As the woman walked away, Paul explained, “I’ve done some computer work for them.”
“Oh,” I nodded, as he answered the question I had been wondering.
Paul took his hand in mine and I couldn’t help but feel like a high school girl again. I squeezed his hand and waited contently.
A good looking bald man came to us a couple of minutes later and greeted, “So you’re Paul.”
“I am,” Paul nodded, shaking hands.
“You were a life saver,” he said.
“I’m happy I could help,” Paul responded, before adding, “and thank you for getting me a table at the last minute.”
“It’s the least I could do,” the man said, before adding, “Tonight, everything is on the house, for you and your lovely lady, so enjoy.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Paul said, while I blushed at the compliment.
“I don’t,” he laughed. “but I can.”
Paul laughed, “Well, thank you.”
“No, thank you,” he said, before turning to the maître d’ and adding, “Take the couple to table seven.”
“Yes, Mr. James,” she nodded.
“Enjoy your evening,” Mr. James said to both of us.
“We will,” both Paul and I said in unison.
“Follow me Mr. Silver,” the maître d said.
Soon we were at the table and I looked around. I noticed almost instantly that I was one of the oldest women here. Most tables had an older man dressed in a suit and tie with a much younger woman dressed elegantly. It was quickly apparent that Paul and I were the exception to the elite upper class world. Ironically, dressed as I was, with a man I loved, I didn’t feel threatened or insecure…I felt like I fit in. I was slightly disappointed there were no recognizable celebrities, but in the end tonight was about Paul and I and not about celebrity sightseeing.
A ridiculously big breasted waitress came and took our drink order and then Paul and I chatted.
“So, surprised?” Paul asked.
“Are our waitress’s breasts massive?” I quipped.
“I didn’t notice,” Paul shrugged, not looking around at all, but keeping his gaze on me.
“I’m twice the age of most of the woman here,” I pointed out.
“Yet, you’re still the hottest one here,” he countered.
“When did you become so smooth?” I asked, flattered by his attention to me, especially when there were so many radiant, beautiful, model like women all around him.
“Some things just come naturally,” he shrugged.
“Oh, I like how you come naturally,” I teased, slipping my foot out of my heel and moving my foot to his crotch.
He blushed and stammered, “O-o-oh, God.”
“My date isn’t hard?” I pouted.
“I will be soon,” he responded, moving his hand to adjust his assumedly growing cock.
“Good,” I smiled, rubbing my stocking-clad foot on his cock. “I want you ready and willing the moment we have an opportunity.”
“You’re insatiable,” he groaned, just as the waitress came with our drinks.
I gave one last firm push and moved my foot away.
We ordered food, chatted about life, avoiding again anything sexual even as the sexual tension simmered just below the surface.