My daughter insisted I take her and three of her friends out for a Valentine's Day dinner celebration. It was also her friend Breann's birthday. Since I had other commitments on Saturday the 14th, I agreed to take them out on Friday the thirteenth. The significance of the date didn't cross my mind. I got home from work, still in suit and tie and cleaned up. My daughter and I got into the car and drove through the neighborhood, gathering the young ladies.
"Hello, Mr. Marcus."
Breann was the only girl who acknowledged my presence with a direct greeting. She wore a long sleeve shiny red blouse and a knee-length pleated white skirt.
I learned en route by listening to the conversation of my passengers that Breann was the oldest of the pack, turning eighteen the next day, Valentine's Day.
We were greeted at the restaurant, our reservation in order, and we were led to our table. My daughter had selected a teppan style Japanese restaurant, the kind where you sit around a hot table in a semi-circle and watch the food being prepared. I was positioned in the middle, my daughter on my left and Breann, the birthday girl, on my right. Two other couples filled the nine-seat table.
Everything was going along fine. I ordered a vodka and fruit juice drink. The girls all had Shirley Temples and groused about it. At their persistent urging, I let Bree take a sip of my drink, as a special benefit accorded the birthday girl.
As the chef performed his first feat of daring with his knife, the whole table "ooh"ed and "aah"ed. As he continued and the group was about to make its obligatory sound, Bree placed her left hand high on my thigh. As the chef started flipping food up in the air and cutting it with deft strokes, Bree was stroking my thigh, running her hand up and down, getting dangerously close to my crotch. It was a purely physiological reaction, but I was getting an erection. Bree wouldn't have to move her hand any closer and soon she'd be rubbing my penis. I took her hand off my leg and placed it in her lap. Bree frowned. I noticed that Bree had consumed almost all of my drink. I ordered a refill, for myself. After all, I was getting thirsty from all of the salty soy sauce in the stir fried vegetables.
"What's the matter, Bree?" my daughter asked.
"Oh, I don't like Japanese food," she replied casually, picking at the mushrooms and onions piled on her ceramic tray.
I wondered if my daughter had asked anyone else's opinion about the destination for this outing. Obviously she hadn't, cleaning her tray and swiping things from other with skillful chopstick movements. Bree and I had a friendly competition, who could get to my drink more often. Since I was still eating, she was winning. I paid the bill and we all went out to the car.
I dropped off the other two girls, who finally said something directly to me - "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Marcus. Happy Valentine's Day." I pulled into Bree's driveway just a few houses down the block from ours but she balked.
"We went out to celebrate my birthday and I didn't even get a meal or anything."
She was right, and it was mostly my daughter's fault.
"Where would you like to go?" I asked, trying to make up for my daughter's faux pas.
"The Castle. Besides, they give you a free ice cream sundae on your birthday," Bree replied.
I backed out and drove to The Castle. Even at ten thirty, they were pretty crowded with folks looking for an ice cream snack in the middle of winter. My daughter sat across from me in the booth. Bree decided to sit next to me instead of next to my daughter.
"I'll have a quarter pound burger, fries and a free sundae for my birthday."
When Bree showed an ID, the waitress balked.
"Your birthday isn't until tomorrow."
I intervened.
"We'd be happy to sit here for another hour and fifteen minutes."
The waitress chatted with her manager, who had the sense to grant Bree her sundae. Bree was the only one eating, devouring her burger like someone who was starving. My daughter and I just sat there keeping her company.
'Oh, my napkin slid off my lap. My hands are all yucky and I don't want to stain my new skirt. Could you please put it back, Mr. Marcus?"
I reached down and fetched the napkin off the floor. It was still clean. I placed it on Bree's lap, gently.
"Smooth it down, so it won't fall off again."
I ran my hand over the napkin in Bree's lap. I was aware that her legs were slightly apart, and my hand was caressing the valley between her thighs. I pulled my hand back as if it had been burnt. Bree giggled. The waitress brought out Bree's complementary desert. It was piled high with whip cream and topped by a single red cherry.
"You can have my cherry for being so nice," Bree said.
The double meaning was not lost on me, especially the way she said it. She handed me the small fruit on a stem.
"I just love ice cream, don't you?" Bree asked. There was a dab of whipped cream on her face, at the corner of her lips. It was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. Even when she licked her lips, it hung there. Both my daughter and I tried to direct her to it, but were unsuccessful. Her tongue danced around but kept missing the target.
"Why don't you get it for me?" Bree asked.
I was closer to Bree.. I swiped the dab from her face with my finger. I was about to wipe it off on my napkin.
"Oh, don't waste it," Bree said.
With that, she took my hand by the wrist and stuck my finger in her mouth. She sucked it for all she was worth. I had to wait until she was done; her grip and suction were so strong. My erection returned. I hoped it would go down before we had to stand up. I dawdled over my glass of water.
When we got to the car, Bree whispered in my daughter's ear and got in the front seat, in between us. I felt Bree's warm body against mine as I drove. Fortunately, her hands stayed in her lap.
"You can just go home. I'll walk to my house," Bree said.
"No, not this late at night. Dad, why don't you walk Bree home?"
It was a good idea. I figured Bree's buzz from my drink had worn off by now, especially with the late meal she had.
"See you tomorrow, daddy," said my daughter as she walked up to our front door.
