We were sitting in a Spanish restaurant in Soho when the waiter approached. I could see from the look in Tarantina's eye that she was going to toy with him. It wouldn't matter what he said or did. He could be the best, most attentive waiter in West End, but she was going to find some way to wind him up.
'Can I bring you the dessert menu?' he said.
'One second,' she replied, picking up her phone. She was acting like she'd received a text, but I knew for certain she hadn't. Her blue-lacquered fingernails shot across the screen, pretending to reply.
'Just one second...'
I caught the waiter giving a tiny roll of his eyes. I felt for him. All through the meal she'd found ways to rile him. If only he knew, I thought, how she was going to pay for this later, it would go some way to placating him.
She put the phone down. 'What did you say?' she asked the waiter.
'Would you like to see the dessert menu?' he repeated.
She looked him up and down. He was a touch on the flabby side. 'I leave dessert to others.'
The waiter took a breath. 'Sir?' he said to me.
'No dessert, thank you. Just a coffee. Double espresso.'
'And a macchiato for me,' she said. 'With hazelnut milk... do you have that?'
'I'll check,' said the waiter.
When he'd gone, I said to Tarantina, 'You need to learn some manners.'
The truth was, she was sassy and I liked it, but sometimes she went too far or the recipient simply didn't get the joke.
'Oh really?'
'Yeah. You're too mouthy.'
She looked surprised at being told off. 'Mouthy?'
'You need to learn to use it better,' I said.
The double entendre wasn't lost on her. 'I've never had any complaints.'
'That doesn't mean there isn't room for improvement. You said you wanted to be my perfect lover. Do you still want to be that?'
I could feel her hand under the table running up my thigh. 'I thought I already was... I let you do anything you want...'
The waiter was coming with the coffee. I brushed her hand away.
'Drink up,' I said. 'That mouth of yours needs to learn how to be nice.'
Tarantina stands five-eight, with long brunette hair that comes to the top of her breasts which look large in clothes but seem smaller and perkier out of them. Her eyes are dark pools that I can lose myself in all too easily which, when we first started seeing each other, I did a little too often. A mouthy girl like Tarantina doesn't want a puppy-dog boyfriend, she acts like that for one reason only - she needs someone to keep her in line.
I used my key card to let us into the hotel room I'd booked. Did I forget that part? That's right, we're married to other people. We've been playing away together for a little over two years. We need each other for all the things we don't get at home, which for both of us, when it comes to the bedroom, is pretty much everything.
As soon as we were inside, she said, 'What the hell was that all about, telling me off like that?'
'You know exactly what it's about. I've told you before about being mouthy. And today's the day we do something about it.'
I smiled to myself as I saw her eyes glancing worriedly around the room. She knew me well enough to guess that I'd come here ahead and prepared things. Her eyes would have seen the condoms and lube on the side - that was normal - but they were also drawn to the overnight bag on the bed.
'Open the bag,' I said.
'You open it.'
My hand grabbed the back of her head so fast she didn't even see it. I brought her face up toward mine, planted my lips on hers, then brought my other hand to her pussy, which could feel even through her jeans, was already hot and probably soaking her panties.
'It's been three weeks,' I said to her. "I know how bad you need this. Now open the bag.'
