He stands in the front of the building, casually looking at the black business card he holds in his hand. The building is brick, and the windows are tinted and have curtains so no one walking by can see in. In fact, anyone walking by might think the place is abandoned. He opens the door and walks into the restaurant. It's dark. The only lights are candles on the tables. The host looks at him, and a brief smile crosses her lips. She is wearing a simple gold masquerade mask and her body is covered in a sharp, form-fitting suit with a bow tie.
"Good evening, sir. Just one? Do you have a reservation?" she asks, her voice sweet and silky. He responds with a curt nod.
"It's under Mr. C."
She looks down at her tablet, smiles and hands him a black velvet mask.
"If you'll follow me..."
Mr. C's excitement builds as he walks through the tables, seeing people eating, drinking and sitting closer than he's ever seen in a normal restaurant, but then he remembers there is more carnage on this menu than at normal restaurants. He smirks, pleased at his pun.
The young blonde guides Mr. C to a booth where a young lady already sits with drink in hand. She glances up at him from her black satin mask and he sees her stunning hazel eyes staring at him. She smiles.
"Good evening, sir," she says sweetly. He assesses her perfect little mouth and then goes on to assess her body. She's wearing a plain white button down shirt. It's tight, and the top few buttons are undone to display a deep cleavage. Through the thin material he can see her nipples, slightly darker than the other skin visible in her top, and the nipples stand erect, almost begging Mr. C to put them in his mouth.
"Good evening, young lady," he says, sitting down and scooting close so she's pinned against the back wall of the booth. From here he can see the short pencil skirt she's wearing. He also notices some plain nude stockings, and from the sound of her foot tapping he knows she's wearing high heels. She has a drink menu in front of her and he leans over to read the small writing looking for something to drink. A waitress who looks almost identical to the host except her hair is red arrives
"Sir, may I get you a drink?" the waitress asks. He continues to look at the menu and slides a hand on to the thigh of the young girl he has trapped in the booth beside him.
"Hmmm..." he ponders. "Yes, I think I'll take a scotch on the rocks," he says to her, paying close attention to the young lady beside him
"Of course, sir. And for you, miss?" the waitress inquires
