“It’s nice to have an evening off,” Lauren said as she slid into the secluded corner booth in one of the most exclusive restaurants in town.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Michael replied as he took the seat adjacent to his wife.
Finding an evening when they were both free had been a challenge. The couple own a small, very successful bookstore, and with Lauren as manager, business had been booming, with several recent book signings featuring big-name authors. Those events, coupled with a few art exhibits that she had recently hosted at the store, had kept Lauren’s schedule full. Michael’s calendar has been just as booked lately as well. His catering company had been busy every night for a month, but he left his manager in charge of tonight’s dinner party. It was a meal for 20 in a private home, and Michael had all the confidence in the world in his staff.
So tonight would belong exclusively to Lauren and Michael. He had used his connections in the food business to secure a last-minute reservation, and the chef at the restaurant was a friend, so they were assured of a wonderful meal. They had dressed to the nines for this rare dinner out, with Michael trading his daily outfit of chef’s whites for a dark suit, white shirt and a tie Lauren had given him for Christmas last year. Lauren, in turn, was wearing an ankle-length black skirt, topped with a black jacket and an electric blue silk blouse, with a couple of buttons undone, showing the smallest hint of cleavage if she moved just right. Her tanned legs were bare underneath the skirt, and black pumps with three-inch heels completed her outfit.
The waiter had uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. After taking a sip, Michael gave his wife a sly grin.
“Remember our deal?” he asked.
She smiled in return: “I do.”
As they were dressing for their date, Michael had persuaded Lauren to agree to whatever he suggested for the evening, from the meal selection to whatever might take place at home after their evening out.
“Good,” he said. “I was just checking.” She could tell he had something planned, and the anticipation excited her. Lauren trusted her husband, and was looking forward to whatever he had in mind.
They finished the bottle of champagne with their appetizers, and the waiter then brought a bottle of wine to their table, refilling their water glasses in the process. One thing in particular Michael had remembered from his days at culinary school had served him well over the years. For every sip of wine, follow with a drink of water. This prevents intoxication and a hangover the following day, he had learned in his classes on wine and food pairing. Skeptical when he first heard this advice, he now wholeheartedly endorsed the practice.
Michael and Lauren ate at a leisurely pace, enjoying each other’s company while discussing the latest goings-on at the bookstore and with the catering company. They were sitting near enough to each other that they could easily reach out and stroke an arm, or intertwine their hands between courses. As the meal progressed, they both began anticipating what was to transpire once they arrived back at their house, a four-bedroom Victorian on just over an acre in the country. The nearest neighbor was nearly a half-mile away, so clothing was optional in their backyard. They had spent many evenings nude in that backyard, taking advantage of the swimming pool in the summer and the hot tub during the winter.
The waiter cleared the sorbet dishes from the table, and told the couple that their entrees would arrive shortly.
Michael leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear: “I’m getting really warm for you.” He had felt that familiar swelling in his slacks for several minutes now, and hoped his wife was experiencing the same sort of excitement.
“Me too,” Lauren replied, blushing slightly. While she loved the physical relationship she and her husband shared, she was still embarrassed to talk about sex. She was an enthusiastic partner in their lovemaking but she was sometimes reluctant to try new things. Michael hoped to change her mind on this romantic evening.
The waiter returned with their meals, and they quickly dug in: salmon for her, lamb chops for him. They could see the lustful fires burning in each other’s eyes, and the sexual tension at the table grew strong.
With the dinner plates cleared and the chocolate soufflé for two on its way, Michael again leaned toward his wife.
“Take off your panties,” he whispered.
“Michael!” Lauren said, surprised at this suggestion. “People will see.”
“No they won’t,” he assured her. “That’s why I chose this booth. It’s in a corner, away from most other tables, and besides, the tablecloth will hide you.”
“Still,” she whispered. “I can’t take off my panties in public.”
“Sure you can,” he said. “Just reach under your skirt and slide them down. Nobody will see a thing.”
Glancing around to make sure none of the other patrons were looking their way, Lauren began raising her skirt, making sure she was hidden by the floor-length tablecloth.
When she had the skirt up to her thighs, she reached underneath and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She raised her bottom slightly off the cushion of the booth and slid the underwear down her legs. As they reached her ankles, the waiter came around the corner with dessert. She blushed again, this time a deep crimson. She just knew that the waiter was aware of what she was doing. Whether he did or not, he never let on. He placed the soufflé before them, and poured coffee as well. Lauren could not bring herself to look him in the eyes as he did all this.
“Do you think he saw anything?” she asked Michael after the waiter departed.
“Of course he didn’t,” Michael assured her. “Now, let me have your panties.”
Having come this far, Lauren wasn’t going to stop now. She reached beneath the table and removed the panties from around her ankles and discreetly handed them to Michael under the table. He laid the panties in his lap, atop his napkin, and looked down. She had surprised him tonight and had worn a thong, a black, silk thong. That swelling in his trousers increased even more as he fingered the silk. It was still warm, having just come from between his wife’s legs, and the thin strip of material was very moist, suggesting that Lauren was indeed as excited as he.
He gathered the napkin and lifted it as if to wipe his mouth, but instead raised the cloth to his face and took a deep breath, inhaling that aroma that he knew so well.
“Michael! Stop it,” Lauren whispered. While Michael may have outwardly embarrassed her, she was secretly excited that he was so enthusiastic about her panties, and her aroma trapped in them.
Michael returned the napkin to his lap, and began feeding Lauren spoonfuls of the soufflé.
