Rosie in the Restaurant

Rosie in the Restaurant

In another life, Rosie undertook a sort of apprenticeship to an older acquaintance in a different part of the city...

'You must choose your lovers as carefully as you choose your meals. You must consider at length what your appetite desires at that particular time, what you will regret not having, what will make you too full because you ate earlier. You are surrounded by morsels, all of them delectable, and there is no reason for you to settle for anything less than what you absolutely desire.'

Rosie, still smitten by the notion that the world was full of intimate encounters that she need only go out and find for herself, gazed attentively at Sylvia as she continued her lesson. They were in a restaurant they had not visited before, one that Sylvia had hinted was very good, and an important step in Rosie's journey. It was set atop a small cliff overlooking the ocean; one whole wall was glass, looking out to the horizon, where two shades of equally perfect blue met and disappeared. They had come for lunch, although Sylvia had mentioned they would visit for different daily meals throughout over the coming weeks.

Instead of tables set throughout the restaurant, the space was organised into booths surrounded by screens and plants, like little grottos, so that if one stood and looked around one could see the other patrons, but while sitting it was quite private. It was also hushed, the grottos serving to dim the noise to hushed tones, tinkling cutlery, and soft moans.

Moans?

Rosie kept her eyes on Sylvia but tried to tune in to the sound she thought she'd heard. There it was again, off to her right; the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. Suddenly Rosie's appetite was even more piqued. Were they about to receive more than just food?

'Darling, pay attention. Now as I was saying, you must make your selection discreetly, but also be clear. And it is perfectly acceptable to have your favourites, but it is also imperative to try new things. Why do you think they bring new dishes to the menu every week? Because they want to continue to thrill and delight us, their customers.'

Sylvia smiled in that way that Rosie had spent hours in front of the mirror trying to emulate; an expression of absolute satisfaction and insatiable hunger, one that spoke of everything she had experienced and everything she intended to experience. She nodded, excited to begin this new lesson.

Sylvia raised her hand ever so slightly and the waiter hovering politely nearby approached the table.

'Good evening my lady, how can we serve you today?'

Sylvia flicked her sparkling ruby bracelet down her dark wrist, looking up at the waiter through her eyelashes. Rosie knew this look. It said to the recipient, 'I am about to be pleased by your service,' but what it actually meant was, 'I am going to enjoy your company in ways you can't even imagine.'

'May I please have the charming waitress with the amber necklace who showed us to our table? And I'll have the seared tuna with greens, and a red wine, your choice.' And she winked.

Rosie felt her heart hammering. Were they about to eat a person? She'd told Sylvia when she took on this position that she was open to having her limits pushed, but this was not what she'd expected. She wondered, not for the first time, if she'd be able to say no to Sylvia when it came down to it. But Sylvia hadn't finished.

'This is my companion's first visit to this fine establishment, so something sweet and titillating for her if you please. And she'll have a chilled rosé.'

The waiter, apparently knowing exactly what this meant, bowed demurely and exited the grotto. Rosie opened her mouth to ask, but Sylvia waved her hand. 'You'll see, my dear.'

Sylvia's meal arrived first, served by the woman with the amber necklace. She placed the plate and the wine in front of Sylvia, and instead of leaving again she then dropped below the level of the table. Rosie leant forward, wondering if she'd lost a fork or something. Sylvia, taking a sip of her wine, sighed deeply and shifted in her seat. Rosie watched her carefully, knowing the face she was pulling all too well. She lifted the white tablecloth ever so slightly and saw the waitress kneeling in front of Sylvia, her head buried deep between the older woman's thighs, her brown hair moving softly over her shoulders as her head moved back and forth. Rosie sat back again, her heart thumping harder than ever, watching Sylvia's face as her pleasure gradually built. Every few moments she would open her eyes, take up her knife and fork and eat a morsel of her meal, before sinking a little lower in her seat, presumably to give the waitress greater access to her sex.

'This, darling,' she said breathily in between bites, 'is why I suggested you not wear pants.'

Rosie grinned, then looked up at the figure that had just entered the grotto. She guessed he was about her age, tanned, with soft dark hair, sweet lips, and a plate of syrupy pancakes covered in cream and fairy floss. He placed the pancakes, and the rosé in his other hand, in front of her, then dropped below the table as the waitress had done. Rosie felt herself tense in anticipation, but his touch was light, feathery, gentle. She wondered if he specialised in first-time customers.

She almost never wore underwear, and was pleased with herself for listening to Sylvia and wearing a thigh-length dress to lunch. The waiter pushed the fabric up her thighs, kissing the insides of her legs as he worked his way up. He caressed her feet, her calves, her ankles, behind her knees; not enough to tickle, but enough to awaken even nerve below her waist. She shifted slightly, opening her legs as wide as she could, but he didn't touch her sex immediately. He trailed his fingers over the softness of her inner thighs, grazing her swollen, dripping lips as his fingers moved back and forth. Just when she thought she would faint from anticipation she remembered her food and took a small sip of rosé. To her surprise, taking that sip, and then a small mouthful of pancake, only added to the pleasure of the person between her legs. She kept her eyes open, staring at her food in wonder, then looked over at Sylvia. The older woman was clearly nearing orgasm. As per their agreement Rosie had never caused that expression on Sylvia herself, but had seen her orgasm countless times in hundreds of different manners, so she knew exactly when the moment was about to strike.

She ran her hand through her hair, sighed deeply, and shuddered with pleasure as the waiter placed his mouth fully over her sex. She had been throbbing almost painfully with desire, and the sudden presence of his hot, wet tongue on her clit, his gentle, firm lips on her lips, his hands firmly holding her hips in place, was almost enough to knock her off the booth. She quickly took another bite, hoping to bring herself back to earth, and savoured the sweetness in her mouth with the sweetness between her legs. Sylvia's soft, throaty moans sounded beside her, sensual but delicate, and Rosie had a sudden thrill that others in the restaurant could hear these sounds of pleasure echoing around them as they received such pleasure themselves.

Rosie closed her eyes, holding the stem of her rosé glass to keep her grounded, and focused on the expert talent she was receiving. As her wave built closer and closer, she shuffled forward slightly, and the waiter, taking that as a sign, slipped a finger inside her. He curled it gently, nudging her g-spot, and Rosie moaned, louder than she meant to. She opened her eyes, suddenly shy that others could hear her, and saw that Sylvia was watching her. A fine sheen of sweat had grown across her hairline, and from the corner of her eye she saw the waitress emerge from under the table and exit the grotto. Sylvia winked, took another bite of her meal, and dabbed her sex with one of the extra linen napkins on the table. That image, and the fact that the napkins had been provided specifically for this purpose, was enough to push Rosie over the edge. She put her hand on the soft, warm head of the waiter, who suckled her clit harder in response, and she felt herself contract. She moaned as softly as she could, rubbing herself against the hot wet mouth giving her pleasure, and felt deeply every tingling nerve ending throughout her body.

When the wave subsided she felt limp, pulling herself back upright with effort. The waiter pulled away from her, caressing her lips gently with one finger, and then he was gone. She heard him stand from under the table and exit the grotto, her eyes closed as she savoured the last of her wave.

'You're a natural. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.'

Rosie laughed breathily, took another sip of rosé.

'I request that young woman every time I'm here, sometimes for my first course, sometimes for dessert. She reaches places that not many others can find in me.'

'You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.'

Sylvia chuckled. 'As did you.'

They finished their first course in silence, their sexes throbbing but untouched after that first tryst. Then Sylvia waved her hand for the next menu.

'I could eat here every single day.' Rosie sighed.

'You could be eaten here every single day.' Sylvia winked again, and Rosie groaned. She didn't often make crude jokes, but when she did it was always good value.

'Can I try your first course for my next?'

'Of course darling, I was going to suggest it. I've had your first course more times than I can count. But I think I want to try someone new today...'