"This," I said, "is payment in advance from your next customer. Mike will call you tomorrow."
"Just a minute!" she yelled. "I never agreed to do anyone but George."
"You said last night when you insisted on being a whore that you wanted to do whatever makes me happy. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"
"You son of a bitch. I can't believe I let you manipulate me into this. And I'm supposed to be a psychologist."
"I tried to stop things last night. You manipulated yourself."
"You're right. Since Chuck was in on the bidding war, he will probably want me too. Who else was there?"
"Just the four of us; however, none of them is very discreet. I'm sure they will spread the word and help us drum up more business. And there will be repeat customers."
"What about my psychology practice and my patients? I can't just walk away from them. They depend on me."
"That's why you should make the where and when arrangements. Think of this as a part-time job, or as a way of filling open time on your calendar."
"Okay, marketing is your department. I'm the merchandise." She put her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. "If I didn't love you so much, I'd have you arrested, you wonderful pimp."
"Let's get cleaned up and go out. We should celebrate our new business venture."
Jenny wore her black cocktail dress with the frilly lace front and plunging neckline. There weren't any hooks or buttons to close the front so the space between her breasts was exposed. Her nipples were plainly outlined. Only a small portion of her boobs was visible. The dress was snug enough to keep them from falling out. It hugged her waist and hips. The hemline was only a couple inches below the curve of her bottom leaving her legs fully displayed. Her black high heeled sandals stretched her calf muscles into straight lines. Sexy would be an understatement. She looked hotter than a welding torch. I wore a golf shirt, a pair of slacks, and no underwear. I knew from experience that when Jenny dressed up like that I was in for an erotic evening.
Lord Winston is the best restaurant in town. The food is superb; the service is first class; and the atmosphere is very romantic. The booths are very dimly lit. The seats are semicircular so couples can scoot around and sit side-by-side instead of across from each other. The tablecloths are oversized and reach down to the diners' laps. They are longer in front hanging down to within a foot of the floor. The most anyone could see of the customers below the table surface would be their feet. The background music is soft, but loud enough to drown out the panting and gasping of romantically inclined couples. The dividers are high enough that it is impossible to see into the next booth. The wait staff is very discreet. Many a time Jenny jacked me off into a napkin while a server stood in front of our table seemingly surveying the dining room.
That particular evening, I could hear Jenny's bottom sticking to the faux leather seat cover as she moved around to the rear center of the seat. After we ordered a bottle of champagne, I turned to her and said, "It sounds like you're wearing your thong tonight."
"It does sound that way," she said sweetly, "but I'm not."
I put my right arm around her shoulder and ran my fingertips up her left inner thigh. When I encountered her soft, downy pubic fur, I smiled and gave her a gentle kiss. Her left hand found my growing prick through the material of my pants. Quickly she opened my fly and pulled out my rapidly expanding member. "What would Freud say about what we're doing?" I asked her with a leering grin.
"He'd say, 'Shut up and enjoy yourselves'" she replied laughing softly. She looked into my eyes while she stroked my dick to its maximum length and stiffness. "Now let's see how quiet you can be," she giggled. She moved away from me a couple feet and ducked her head under the tablecloth. Her lips formed a seal around the head of my cock. That was a first for us. Never before had she given me head in a booth. I spread my arms out along the back of the seat and closed my eyes while she worked her oral magic on me. It wasn't long before my breathing quickened, and I was gasping for breath. My hips rose up from the cushions, and my seed spurted into her throat. Not a single drop of my jism escaped from her mouth. As she sat up, our server walked away. Two glasses of champagne were on the table, and the bottle was in an ice bucket.
After we ordered our entreés, we began making out again. My fingertips explored her slit while we engaged in long tender kisses. Her labia opened, and I traced the outer edges with my index finger. Her breathing slowed. With her eyes locked on mine, she turned on the seat and lifted her left leg up. I slid forward a few inches. Her leg straightened out behind me. I looked across the table; no server was standing in front of it. When I turned my head back toward her, she was already laying down on the seat. I lowered my head between her legs and licked her wide-open slit. She gave a strong but quiet gasp as my tongue passed her clit. Each time I passed her mini-dick she shuddered and gasped again. On the sixth pass, her legs clamped against my head holding it immobile. She had stuffed her napkin into her mouth to keep from crying out. When we sat up, our food was on the table, and our server was walking away.
