Rmn Pt 05 Maison Verdi

RestaurantMeetsNET Pt. 05: Maison Verdi

Arrival

Having acute hearing can be both a blessing and a curse.

The 'curse' part, for example, is when I am at work, which is in a restaurant. When we are busy, there is all the clatter and clash of cutlery on crockery, and crockery on crockery, and cutlery on cutlery. There is also the version of 'muzak' (which is relatively civilised here, as it has many speakers, so does not need to be loud). Then, of course, there is the chatter. This can be loud when the chatterers are part of a larger group, and are competing with their fellow diners for attention.

'Cacophony' is an understatement.

The 'blessing' can come in the same restaurant, but when it is not busy.

Like this evening.

The young man arrived first, stated that a table had been booked for two, and gave the booking name. This evening, his table was mine, so I seated the man, who seemed to be in his mid-to-late twenties, and offered him (and the other but still awaited guest), the menus. He accepted them, and sat, slightly 'fidgety', to ponder their contents.

During his period of waiting, he maintained a vigilant watch of the comings and goings through the entrance to the restaurant.

About ten minutes later, he was joined by an older woman. She was good looking, and very well presented; and was dressed in, I thought, fairly expensive, understated clothing, though nothing dowdy. At any rate, I recognised her strappy stilettoes as being Jimmy Choo's, as I also have a pair of that style.

I was surprised slightly by the kiss that they exchanged as he partially stood to greet her arrival at their table, because it was lip to lip with tongues, and hence warmer and longer than I would have expected from their greetings exchange of "Hello, Freddie!" and "Mum."

I attempted to seat her opposite him, but she moved to sit at his left side of the table, and once seated, she held his left hand in her right, as they lay atop the table.

As I said, it was quiet in the restaurant that evening, so as I moved away from the table, I heard him grouch to her in a low voice, "Jeez, Mum! You've pulled all the stops tonight! My favourite shoes; and that blouse is something else -- especially without a bra. Are you trying to kill me?"

And then he moved their hands below the table, but kept them hidden by the table-cloth, and continued in the near whisper, "Feel what you did to me, just by watching you walk across the restaurant!"

"Oh, Freddie! It feels so wonderful that you are so eager for me." she whispered back. And giggled. I looked at her as closely as I could, without making it obvious. She sounded like a twenty-year-old; she was flushed, and breathing heavily.

'Oh-oh!' I thought, 'naughty, naughty! I've got to keep an eye on

them

, to see what the real deal is.'

Once he passed her a menu, they fell-to and discussed the dishes, and their possible choices. During this they settled down and relaxed.

Dinner

During the wine tasting and ordering, and their starters; and on into their main course, the general atmosphere between them was open and convivial; so I paid them less attention.

However, partway through their main course, something changed. He whispered something to her, and she giggled. Then she took a decent forkful of her fish, placed some in her mouth, then offered the fork to his mouth -- to sample -- which he did.

Then she leaned forward, and licked some wayward sauce off his lips, but took her time.

He tweaked her right nipple through her blouse. She shuddered, and nibbled his lips.

His hand 'slunk' under the table to the area of her knee, and appeared to stroke.

Her

hand 'slunk' under the table, and appeared to stroke up and down his thigh.

He groaned, and in a half-choked whisper, he begged her to not to use her nails.

Her arm continued moving.

He pleaded with her to stop.

Her arm continued to move.

Then he stiffened, shuddered; groaned, and shuddered; whimpered, and shuddered; muttered -- squeakily -- "Oh, Mummm!", and shivered; then groaned and relaxed.

I went a bit dizzy as I squirted into my own knickers, and tried to breathe deeply and evenly, so as to not attract their, or anyone else's, attention.

"Are you feeling any better now, my Darling?" she purred -- sounding the very soul of consideration.

"Oh, Mum! Now I've got to sit with wet trousers for the rest of the meal."

"Why not pop to the Gent's, and clean up a little?"

"I can't stand up yet! The wet patch will be obvious!"

She giggled, and kissed his lips briefly, again, "Serves you right for wearing light coloured trousers for one of our dinners. You should know better by now!"

"Awww, Mummm!" he pouted (very attractively I thought), "Why do you tweat me tho?" he lisped, in poor imitation of Tom Brown, during his School Days.

"Oh, grow up little boy!"

And her right arm twitched, just the way it would -- if she had grasped hold of something.

He grunted and folded over the table, then her arm recommenced the backwards and forwards motion.

"Aww no, Mum. Not the fingernails again -- please?"

"Oh Freddy, my Darling. I thought you enjoyed Mummy's games."

"Oh, I do, I do -- 'Mummy'. But not in a busy restaurant."

But she ignored his plea. Right up to the time when it appeared that he orgasmed again.

Then I just about managed to hear her whisper, "That's it, for now my lover. I'm leaving you in peace, to recharge. I want you empty but Hot when I get you in my room tonight. So, eat-up. You have your strength to maintain for later."

All was then again relaxed and peaceful.

And I went off to change out of my now saturated knickers.

Payback

After their desserts, she got 'bustley' (started to 'bustle' anyway) -- you know, wiping her hands and lips with her napkin; took a quick sip of wine; stroked his left forearm before patting it -- twice, prepared herself -- and her handbag; told him she was just going to "pop into the little girls' room"; and then stood; gave him a peck on the lips; and moved in the direction of the Ladies' toilet.

I quickly made my way to the cash desk, and grabbed a few vouchers, and then went to await -- Mum[?] -- outside the 'Ladies'.

As she left the 'Ladies', she wafted out a gentle cloud of 'Rive Gauche', and her lips and hair had been 'repaired'.

"Ah, excuse me... Mrs Baxter[?]"

"Yes, may I help you?"

"If you would, please.

"Am I correct in thinking that your dining companion this evening is your son?"

"Yes, he is."

"Ah, good! I apologise for some indelicacy of my approach, and questions, but ... I observed that your ... er ... relationship ... is a closer one than is usual for a mother and son; and that I apologise, at admitting to a little light snooping, but it seemed that you enjoyed ... er ... stimulating your son to ... a ... uh ... an ... embarrassing degree[?]."

During that speech, her expression developed a bit of an ugly sneer.

"You think so, do you? And what pray, do you intend to do about it?"

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to alarm you, but yes, I do intend to do this for you."

And I reached out my hand towards her, offering her the vouchers.

She looked at my offer, but neither her expression or stance softened.

"What are those?"

"They are dining vouchers, for this restaurant. There are three. One is for a free meal for two, unlimited cost, and valid until the end of this year; and two two-for-the-price-of-one vouchers, cheapest meal free, again valid to the end of this year. Though if you don't use them, come see me, and I will issue replacements, that will be valid until the end of next year."

She slowly reached out and accepted the vouchers; and studied them.

"And I can use these whenever I want, this year?"

"Well, yes -- sort-of."

"'Sort-of'?"

"Between you and your son, dining together."

"And why would you be this ... generous," and she vaguely waved the vouchers in my direction, "considering what you ... believe ... you observed?"

"Well, what I observed, seemed to me to be the -- the -- epitome of seduction of a young man. Your choice of clothing; the way you ... stimulated ... him -- by stroking his thigh[?] with your nails, especially; the forkful of your fish, and the licking of the sauce off his lips.

"I have to be candid, and say that I found your actions extremely stimulating -- to climax, even. I had to go and change my knickers."

She looked at me, wide-eyed with wonder.

"Why did these ... observations ... stimulate you to such a degree?"

"Well they..." and here I paused for a deep breath, "they inspired me ... to ... to ... want to try them out ... on my own son, when next we are in ... a ... ah ... similar[?] ... situation."

"Oh!"

And her mind 'wandered far away' as her gaze became vacant.

I watched her in silence.

She returned, and looked at me.

"Won't you get into trouble, just doling out these?" and she again waved the vouchers at me.

"No. It's my restaurant. Well, ownership is shared between my sister and I."

I held out my hand to her.

"I am Mariam Coppell." We shook hands, "Sorry -- should have done that at the start of our conversation. We are the 'Green' sisters. At least, we were before we married."

"Ah! Hence 'Maison Verdi'!"

"Exactly!

"Now, I believe you need to return to your son, he seems to be getting restive.

"And, by the way, your dinner this evening is also 'on the house' -- with gratitude."

She stepped close to me and she embraced me, "Good, hunting; and bon chance!"

Once she got back to the table, she and her son huddled to a whispered but animated conversation. They both looked at me, from time to time, and they examined the vouchers. Then as they prepared to leave, he looked at me with a smile, and a thumbs-up, and held up something, and left it on the table, beside his plate.

When I went to clear their table, I saw that he had left a business card -- for RestaurantMeetsNET. The card legend included the statement 'Bringing People Together'. On the back was written 'Ask for Freddie B, and don't be coy', and a 'kiss' cross.

* * * * *

By the way, my son hated the fingernail 'caresses' as much as Freddie did. It didn't stop him cumming as hard as Freddie did, either.

But when Freddie and I eventually met ... elsewhere, I didn't use his mother's techniques against him. I had developed some of my own -- that worked very well on Freddie, as well as... .

Unfortunately, my sister doesn't have a son. But she developed her own techniques for both my son (with my blessing) -- and Freddie. Both hated those as well. She said it didn't stop them cumming very hard, though. Neither my sister or I expect to use the services of Freddie and his brethren frequently, since my son has, heroically, offered his services (at discounts -- the cheeky wotsit!) to family members. We did register for Freddie's organisation, though. After all, there are two of us, and we often travel away from home, individually, as well as together; though my son has told us that he would be proud to chaperone both his female family members, should we decide that his ...

services

... would be ... appropriate[?].

* * * * *

End of Part 5