As Enrique calmly pondered my question, I asked our waiter to repeat the dessert menu. I couldn't decide between the chocolate mousse and the sorbet. I knew the walk home was going to be warm but the mousse was the house specialty. Our waiter's Haitian accent was an added bonus so the repetition of his delicate pronunciation was a dessert all to itself. "I'll give the two of you time to think it over," he graciously offered as he dismissed himself to see to a couple two tables away.
"Six inches," Enrique finally answered with a finality that was meant to impress me. "But I bet his girth would be too much for your demure approach," he added with a sarcastic smirk.
"But would you rather he fuck me while I suck your dick or the other way around?" I casually asked as I ran my bare foot along Enrique's ankle under the table. The buzz of the late crowd made for an interesting mix of dining couples on their way out and hungry singles posting up for the night. We enjoyed the buzz of both those who knew they were fucking someone they cherished and those hoping to fuck someone new.
"Which would you prefer?" he tossed back before removing the mint leaf from our shared cup of tea. The couple next to us watched as Enrique stirred the contents with his finger and my shoulders and nipples perked up. The woman noticed I was braless and gave me a little grin. I doubt they could have heard our conversation over the ambience but I didn't care. I never cared.
"His dark skin is beautiful and I could look at his white teeth all day," I started answering, "but I don't think I'd want such a wide dick in my mouth unless it was impeccably shaved." I then casually took a sip of my freshly stirred tea while Enrique caught our waiter's attention before he could disappear back into the frenzied kitchen.
"We will have the mousse, please," Enrique politely ordered with a smile that played in my mind childishly. Our waiter nervously smiled back at him before smoothly navigating the thickening 11PM crowd.
"But not in my refined pussy?" I questioned as Enrique took his first sip. "Because of his girth?" I prodded hoping to continue the conversation. Our neighbors were probably waiting to find out where this party was headed. And so was I.
Enrique tried to form a teasing response to my question but his thoughts were momentarily distracted by one of the girls at the bar. My toes were resting behind his calves as he finished his sip of tea. I watched his long fingers hold the warm glass and I smiled at the carbon wedding ring he proudly wore.
"I'm afraid that a dick that wide in your petiteness might undermine the quality of the blowjob you'd be attempting to give," Enrique finally answered. The eyebrows of the lady next to our table were definitely a tell that some of our conversation was being heard.
"Well maybe one of the ladies at the bar could take care of your dick if I'm preoccupied with having my virginal vagina broken," I offered with a sincerity beyond indignation. "The one in the tortoise shell glasses maybe?"
"Good choice," Enrique sarcastically offered, "but you know that the tall one in the olive dress and heels is who I'd want licking my dick while. . ."
"The waiter's balls are slapping against my ass?" I interrupted. His choice at the bar had nothing to do with glasses, height or dress. It was the extravagant tattoo that cascaded from her bellowing curls to her braceleted wrists. The pattern was a continuous piece that was planned from inception to cover every inch of her skin. Probably to cover a smaller, embarrassing ode to a high school beaux she'd rather forget.
"Your ass, indeed," Enrique mindlessly repeated as though he'd gotten a song stuck in his head. I knew he had a thing for big hair and big tattoos. I couldn't help smiling as the bottled jealousy of his obvious attraction was moistening my panties.
"How about you grab me a red wine from the bar?" I politely asked.
With a devious nod and sinful laugh he pulled away from our table. As I watched him wade through the patrons I enjoyed watching his oversized frame try not to damage the innocent bystanders. I noticed the three to four sets of ladies watch him with me as he flashed his smile in all directions before spreading his freshly worked arms across the bar. I think one patron almost fell off of her barstool trying to amplify her view.
Olive Dress to his right was quick to share a nicety as he ordered my glass of wine. Her body language conveyed an openness that he naturally reflected in her direction. I imagined some valiant attempt on her part to gain his attention without looking thirsty as he smiled at the words falling from her lips. His hands rested neatly across the bar as he waited patiently for my glass to be filled. His tattooed biceps were an obvious point of conversation, but she didn't appear to be the obvious type. She was more the 'economics of central Africa' and 'journalism in modern Cuba' type, so her game was going to be strong. And you knew she was giving him game because her friends were not intervening. If she needed support they would have pulled her away for some benign reason. But they were busy scouting their own entertainment.
Olive Dress was probably about to summarize her PhD thesis when Enrique unconsciously flashed the Stop sign by crossing his arms in complete sincerity. Though his interest had piqued, his carbon wedding ring was squarely in her vision. You could see the wind fall from her sail. She was in the consolation game and had to play it to the end for fear of not appearing genuine. She couldn't admit to him or herself that she simply wanted to fuck him. But just as her panties started to relax, he gently touched her knee as she sat high against her barstool. She was thinking if she was that girl. At least that night.
"Madame," interrupted my show. Our chocolate mousse had arrived just as my view was getting good. "Is there anything else you need?" Our waiter asked as I kept my eyes trained on the show. "Anything?" he persisted.
