the twenty-first night:
i am a poor, broke, humble girl but tonight i was pampered in every way imaginable.
i am no starfucker, and certainly i am rarely impressed by material things. but let no one tell you differently:
it is a special aphrodisiac to dine with one who is rich and powerful. the kind of man who has the entire restaurant at its knees. the kind of meal where the head chef prepares special dishes for you and the manager kisses my hand just for sitting at his table.
my best friend and i, humble kids, sat with this man, who treated us like a king and queen. and i ate it up with a spoon.
i caught the head waiter staring down into my cleavage while he asked if i would like another glass of wine. i "accidentally" stroked that back of the runner's thigh while he brought out our oysters. i winked at the 40 something year old man at the next table as i bit the tail off my jumbo shrimp. i locked eyes with the maitre d' and licked my lips while i cracked the top of my creme brulee.
i had a smile for everyone i saw, and they all knew what was on my mind.
when we moved to the bar, i pressed my tits against the back of the irishman while he talked to my host, who was trying his hardest to get him to sing a traditional irish drinking song, which he said he "collected".
drunk on maker's mark, brandy and wine, i secretly stroked the irishman's lower back and then his thigh, whispering to him in his far ear while my host chatted him up. i nuzzled my mouth against his ear and he tipped his head back to listen to me compliment his brogue. my best friend caught me with sparkling eyes, smiling at me for pulling this man from our host's considerable charms.
i remember his hands, large with clean dignified nails, but i don't remember his name. he was easily 20 years older than me.
we walked out into the night air and i kissed the cheek of my host as we bid him goodnight. i walked down the rain-wet streets laughing and we grabbed at each other while i wrapped my scarf around my best friend's neck, kissing him under lamplight. i spun circles in the orange-yellow light, letting the rain soak through my thin silk shirt, feeling it on my throat and chest, down my sides and between my breasts.
on the drive home i hung half-way out the window, blowing kisses to lovers and bums alike in this beautiful new city.
i am a poor, broke, humble girl but tonight i was pampered in every way imaginable.
i am no starfucker, and certainly i am rarely impressed by material things. but let no one tell you differently:
it is a special aphrodisiac to dine with one who is rich and powerful. the kind of man who has the entire restaurant at its knees. the kind of meal where the head chef prepares special dishes for you and the manager kisses my hand just for sitting at his table.
my best friend and i, humble kids, sat with this man, who treated us like a king and queen. and i ate it up with a spoon.
i caught the head waiter staring down into my cleavage while he asked if i would like another glass of wine. i "accidentally" stroked that back of the runner's thigh while he brought out our oysters. i winked at the 40 something year old man at the next table as i bit the tail off my jumbo shrimp. i locked eyes with the maitre d' and licked my lips while i cracked the top of my creme brulee.
i had a smile for everyone i saw, and they all knew what was on my mind.
when we moved to the bar, i pressed my tits against the back of the irishman while he talked to my host, who was trying his hardest to get him to sing a traditional irish drinking song, which he said he "collected".
drunk on maker's mark, brandy and wine, i secretly stroked the irishman's lower back and then his thigh, whispering to him in his far ear while my host chatted him up. i nuzzled my mouth against his ear and he tipped his head back to listen to me compliment his brogue. my best friend caught me with sparkling eyes, smiling at me for pulling this man from our host's considerable charms.
i remember his hands, large with clean dignified nails, but i don't remember his name. he was easily 20 years older than me.
we walked out into the night air and i kissed the cheek of my host as we bid him goodnight. i walked down the rain-wet streets laughing and we grabbed at each other while i wrapped my scarf around my best friend's neck, kissing him under lamplight. i spun circles in the orange-yellow light, letting the rain soak through my thin silk shirt, feeling it on my throat and chest, down my sides and between my breasts.
on the drive home i hung half-way out the window, blowing kisses to lovers and bums alike in this beautiful new city.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
tara81:
Is that a true story?!
tara81:
Ohh.. your 21st nite sounds divine!! Mine consisted of going to see a movie, laughing at all the idiots in this suburb, eating a yummy homeade itialin dinner and letting the waiter look down my shirt, and then coming home to fuck my yummy love.
