"I never knew you were such an authority on this subject."
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," he grins. He reaches over to touch my arm. I let him for a moment, but pull away. I can see the confusion on his face.
But I know I need to gain his trust, so I grab another oyster, squeeze lemon on it and bring it to my lips.
I tilt my head back, exposing my neck to Ethan, and I part my lips just enough to take the oyster in and allow it to slide down my throat. He watches me, never lifting his gaze.
I smile and grab his hand. Placing one of his fingers between my lips, I suck on it. "I don't know what's tastier, you or this oyster," I purr.
"I like that sound of that," he smiles. He reaches up to stroke my cheek, but again, I pull away.
This game of back and forth is driving him crazy.
By the time our waiter brings out the final course—a decadent serving of chocolate lava cake, I've already been teasing Ethan for the entire night. In one sense, I feel bad. I honestly do.
I find myself feeling wildly excited by his advances; I'm like those oysters every time he responds with my skin rippling in anticipation. I want his touch so bad. I crave his touch. But this is supposed to be a job. I have to keep that in perspective.
But if this is just a job, why am I feeling this way? Why am I desiring his touch? Normally, I do my job. I seduce men. I follow through, and that's it. I don't feel anything inside. But this is so different. My mind is reeling.
I push my spoon into the crust of the dark chocolate cake. The warm, gooey liquid leaks over the spoon, and I bring it to my mouth, extending my tongue and carefully licking off every warm drop.
Ethan is entranced.
"I didn't realize how hungry you were," he says with a grin.
"This is just the beginning," I purr. "My hunger goes beyond the food on this table."
When the meal is finished, I bring my hand softly on top of his. "Thank you, that was one of the best meals I've ever had," I say.
"There's a lot more where that came from," he smiles. "I can show you a good meal at my apartment—maybe satisfy your real hunger?"
His leg is pressed up against mine, and he has his hand on my arm. I know where he's going with this, but I can't. I can't go back to his apartment. Do I want to?
Yes, of course! My body is practically screaming out for him. But I really can't. Because if I go back to his apartment, you know what's going to happen, don't you? And I can't sleep with him. Not tonight. That's definitely not part of the formula for this evening.
"Not tonight," I say, pulling my arm back. "I can't."
He looks frustrated. There's something in his eyes that says he's not going to give up that easily. He's not going to take no for an answer. He stands up from the table and clears his throat.
"Everyone, can I have your attention?" his voice booms across the private dining room. The wait staff all stop and stare at him.
He now has a captive audience and he continues, "I need everyone to leave."
There are some low murmurs as people decide if he's serious. When he doesn't sit back down, and instead looks across the room to ensure people are following orders, they begin to file out—waiters, bussers, and other diners.
When the last person leaves, the room is silent and Ethan looks at me.
"What is it that you just said?" he asks me.
I don't immediately respond and he continues.
"Did you say you can't? Because it looks to me like you can."
Brittney
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He wasn’t supposed to have me… Not yet, at least. But as he stands up and orders everyone to leave the room, I know I’m done for. And even though I know I should stop it, I simply can’t do it. I want this, and I want it very bad.
“This is it,” he tells me as he walks around the table. He stops right in front of me, fire in his eyes. I can almost see the flames of desire dancing there, tall and fierce and all consuming. Raising one arm, he brushes the back of his hand on my cheeks, and my heart starts to drum wildly as I feel his touch on me. “You know what happens now, don’t you?”