So, the doctor walks into the room of his patient and tells him, "Mr. Johnson, I've reviewed your chart and I have some good news and some bad news for you."
Mr. Johnson replies to the doc, "I can take the bad news, Doc, give it to me first."
The doctor looks at him gravely and says, "Your prognosis has taken a significant turn for the worst and we now give you two weeks to live, tops."
Stunned, the patient asks in a quivering voice, "Well, whatever could the good news be, Doctor?"
The doctor points to a shapely nurse bending over the medicine cart, winks at the patient and smiles while whispering, "See that hot nurse over there? Well, I'm fuckin' her."
That's kinda the way it goes with on-line dating, you get some good news and some bad news.
On this particular occasion, as I watched the comely silhouette in the open raincoat approach me, I saw a long, thin mini-skirt-clad pair of legs between the open buttons of the raincoat. My immediate thought was that these might just be the hottest pair of gams that I had ever seen. I mean, she looked cute in her on-line photos, but jeezus, talk about an unexpected upgrade. As she got closer, I inspected more diligently and approved the entire package unilaterally. Five-feet-four, long honey-brown-hair with a farmer's daughter's/Polly Purebred face. Oh, and did I mention those legs?
"Hi, you must be John, I'm Linda, nice to meet you," she said happily, extending her right hand, while the other flipped her honey-brown hair off of her forehead, her coat opening even more to expose a very nice chest as well, tightly covered in a light green blouse, taut nipples peeking beneath the thin cotton fabric holding up her firm, pert tits.
Good news, definitely good news.
I led Linda to our table in the bar where we had planned a cocktail before walking over to the Hibachi restaurant down the block where we held a dinner reservation, thanking Al Gore and the good people from snatch.com and match.cum and whoever else was responsible for Internet dating. When she took off her raincoat before easing into the plush leather seat, her impossibly sexy black skirt rising almost to her crotch, a young waiter dropped a tray of utensils, admiring perhaps the hottest forty-three-year-old divorced mother of four he had ever seen.
"You must get that a lot, rendering men onto their hands and knees, into jelly," I said, indicating the young man sheepishly cleaning up his spill while trying not to peek up her skirt.
Linda looked at me, seemingly genuinely unaware that it was she who had caused the one-tray accident. "What do you mean?" Her blue eyes blinked quizzically.
I peered back at her, trying to gauge her sincerity. Was she a cock-tease, or simply blissfully naive of her own beauty? I decided not to mince words. "Linda, I like to think I'm a keen observer and talented judge of a woman's charms, and if you don't mind me saying, you have, without question, the best pair of legs in the sexiest miniskirt I have ever seen." I then nodded to the embarrassed young man scurrying to the kitchen, still dropping forks and spoons. "Something tells me he agrees with me, also."
She blushed at me seductively. "Thank you, I wanted to make an impression on you. I have a good intuition about you, even though we only starting chatting a few days ago. I've recently been in a bad situation, and well, I wanted to feel especially sexy tonight. I'm glad you're appreciative, it certainly looks as though you are, anyway." She giggled while glancing down to the impossible-not-to-notice bulge in my khakis, and her eyes lingered there for a few long seconds, admiring the view of her own. "It, um, looks like you have a pretty nice leg of your own, if you don't mind ME saying."
This was very good news.
Somehow we made it through our pre-dinner drink without me drooling into my amaretto, and as I helped her on with her coat before making the short walk to our restaurant, she leaned her body backwards just enough so that my lap cradled against her buttcheeks, which felt like the proverbial buns of steel, even through the coat's material. As she wriggled into the coat, her lower torso wiggled back and forth against my pelvis.
We walked arm-in-arm for a block in the slight drizzle (an omen, being wet?), and my cock stayed as hard as trying to interpret the dialect of a Japanese hostess who greeted us at the restaurant's vestibule.
"Hi," I said to the woman in the kimono. "Seven-thirty reservation for two for Ellis for the upstairs table, please." I couldn't help but notice that she had on one of those things that traditional Japanese women used to apparently wear in their hair, a fashion that is now only embraced by hostesses at Hibachi restaurants in New Jersey. Best way I can describe it would be to say it looked like a Brontosaurus bone from the Flintstones or the dinosaur exhibit at the Academy of Natural Sciences.
"Ah, res, leven-thilty levelvation for Erris for up-stayl," she repeated flawlessly. Well, almost flawlessly. She eyed Linda up and down, her eyes gazing at her skirt with a combination of envy and womanly appreciation. The hostess then turned to me, smiling, showing off her yellow and crooked teeth, and nodded enthusiastically. "Your rady velly bootyful. You rucky man." She then shouted maniacally towards the second floor in Japanese, and the "Erris" party was soon seated at the large square table with several other couples and one family whose daddy leered at Linda unabashedly when he saw her enter the room, a reaction which did not go unnoticed by the mommy, who elbowed him wickedly in the ribs.
Despite the public seating arrangement, the large ledge around the grill did serve to obscure any view below the table, and Linda's legs and my own rubbed teasingly against the others as we enjoyed one delicious course after the next. By the time the entertaining chef was expertly popping shrimp into our open mouths from ten paces with his ginzu knife, Linda's manicured fingers were caressing my thigh and my own hand snuck under the ever-rising hem of her skirt so that the back of my palm now rested on the mound of her steaming pussy, which felt every bit as sizzling as the Hibachi.
I ate left-handed for most of the meal so that I could tease and tantalize Linda's delectable female sushi to my right, starting to ooze juices with a slight musky aroma that mixed intoxicatingly with the food. When I turned my hand so that my finger finally grazed over her silk-covered clit, Linda gasped audibly, causing some stares from the other patrons of the table, but she dug her nails into my forearm and embraced my arm with both hands and groaned, "Oh, my God, this is soooo good, isn't it?" She uttered it convincingly enough to not raise undue suspicion.
For the duration of the meal, I continued to rub my thumb and index fingers in excruciatingly slow circles over her the top of her engorged nub, and her face turned the shade of crimson as she shuddered repeatedly as I would bring her to the edge and then trail off, again and again and again.
Linda excused herself towards the end of the meal to 'freshen up' as the other patrons paid their tab. Daddy lingered for longer than he needed to and attempted to make some small talk with me, no doubt hoping for one last leer at Linda, but Mommy ushered him away, literally pulling him through the curtains. When Linda returned, our room was empty except for one young girl cleaning up the residue of the meals, as I had already settled the bill.
Seemingly oblivious to the girl, or perhaps emboldened because we did have an audience, Linda returned to the room, pulled the curtain tightly closed behind her, and plopped herself down right on my chair, facing me, legs spread, straddling my lap, and pulled the back of my skull towards her face rather roughly, and snaked her soft, wet, warm tongue into my mouth. She began to bounce up and down in a soft yet forceful rhythm on my lap, and I became aware of the young Asian girl's increasingly rapid breathing as she had a bird's-eye view to this impromptu, spontaneous sensual dessert.
Linda released her tongue from my own reluctantly, bringing her lips to my ear lobe, biting it, and whispered, "You have me so hot, here's a present for you." I hadn't noticed that she had something curled into her fist when she had re-entered the room. She uncurled the ball of her fist and I saw her gift, a chocolate brown silk thong, and she placed it gently into my palm. I could discernibly feel the precipitation on the material.
The embarrassed yet aroused youngster left the room giggling when she saw the underwear, as Linda continued her vertical ascent and descent on my pelvis, now licking my neck. "They were so wet, I couldn't wear them anymore." She sat so that her perfectly shaped nipples were now brushing against the tip of my nose. "Let's go dancing now at Havana, that club across the river. I hear it's "No Panty" night, and I want to be dressed appropriately for the occasion. Ready?"
We made the short walk back to my car, the thong in my pocket, exchanging increasingly daring kisses along the way, until we stopped in front of the passenger side door and initiated a game of full-body tag in the cloak of curbside darkness, the threat of being observed by passersby only causing our desire to heighten.
