Here is Part 2 of this two-part series. Same disclaimers from Part 1 apply here.
Please be kind!
Kisses,
L
*****
Friday, 7:45 PM - Lucy's Apartment
Lucy suggested to Stuart that they meet at the restaurant. He seemed reluctant, as if he really wanted to pick her up at her apartment, but eventually agreed. It struck her that he was not used to having his plans challenged, and she counted this as a minor victory, for some reason.
She left the office around 7PM so she'd have time to go home, freshen up, change into more appropriate "date clothes" and meet him downtown.
After her shower, she took her time applying moisturizer all over her body and styling her hair in a wild array of loose curls. She also took more care with her make-up than usual, applying shadow and liner for the "smoky eyes" look. The effect was fairly dramatic, particularly with her choice to go with sheer, glossy lips.
Finally, as she got dressed, she took care to put on one of the sexy thongs he'd bought for her - choosing a sheer black lace one that would coordinate well with her balconette bra. She rarely wore this kind of bra, since it pushed her tits up into a veritable shelf, but she really wanted to be ultra-feminine tonight and her dress required a bra with a plunging neckline.
Her dress was a deceptively simple wrap style in a color the designer called "burnt umber". It was a dark gold with a subtle shimmer that made the highlights in her hair look as if they were lit from within, and brought out the amber in her eyes. The silk jersey clung in all the right places, accentuating her curves.
For once, she could wear whatever heels she wanted, since Stuart was so tall. She chose her favorite nude leather pumps. They'd cost her a small fortune, and had a little platform and four-inch stiletto heels. They elongated her naturally slim legs and made her feel very sexy.
Slipping her arms into her black satin evening trench, she grabbed up her small clutch bag and was out the door in plenty of time. Somehow she knew that she should not be late.
Lucy was strangely excited as the taxi sped downtown. She hadn't looked forward to a date in a very long time. Apart from getting the address from Stuart, she hadn't done her customary research on the restaurant. She had no idea what kind of place he'd chosen. That wasn't like her at all.
Pulling out her phone, she tapped in the restaurant name and watched for the results. Hmm. Michelin starred, celebrity ex-pat English chef. Impossible to get a reservation. Lots of stellar reviews. Sexy ambiance, etc., etc. She grinned. Did this mean he was trying to show off?
More likely that this is just how he rolled - he probably had a regular table, she thought sarcastically, laughing to herself in the dark of the back seat.
The driver looked at her yet again in the rear-view mirror. He'd been doing that a lot since she'd gotten in. Pulling out a tiny make-up mirror from her purse, she checked her reflection to see if anything was amiss with her appearance that caused him to stare.
Nope - it all seemed fine. Whatever.
Friday, 8:30 PM - Café Magdalena
As they pulled up to the café, there was a discreet line of SUVs dropping well-heeled looking guests off. A small queue of people hovered along the sidewalk. She paid the cab and slipped out, feeling tall in her heels as she stepped down a few concrete stairs to the opulent-looking door. A doorman pushed it open for her, his eyes roaming over Lucy as he made a little bow.
The place fairly buzzed with electricity. It was dimly lit and very stylish. A gorgeous little thing by the reception area took her coat, and Lucy looked around for Stuart. She saw him by the small bar, and froze.
A sexy-looking redhead in a leopard-print sheath was holding his arm, her pretty face turned up toward his as she laughed naughtily. She held a half-full (half-empty?) martini glass in the manicured, bejeweled hand that wasn't wrapped around him. Lucy looked at Stuart to see whether he was likewise mesmerized, to find that he was staring straight at herself.
He said something to the redhead, who reluctantly let go of him and walked away, turning to get a look at Lucy as she did so. Maneuvering effortlessly through the crowd, he walked over to greet her.
The look on his face was more than gratifying. Clearly, her efforts had not been wasted. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight, and the look on his face was one of pure lust and stunned appreciation. Stopping breathtakingly close to her, he exhaled, shaking his head a little. Lucy couldn't help the smile that lit her face.
"Fuck me, you are absolutely stunning. Stunning." He leaned down, and she thought he meant to kiss her cheek, so turned slightly to the left. Instead, he lifted her chin and kissed her full on the lips. A kiss that lingered and sent bolts of lightning down to her toes.
He released her lips, sighing, and touched his forehead to hers. She was a little dizzy from that kiss, so could only manage a husky little "Hi."
She noted that he cleaned up rather well, too. His dark charcoal suit was perfectly tailored, and his crisp black dress shirt was open at the throat. He'd eschewed a tie. He'd clearly showered, because he smelled fresh and spicy, and his hair still looked a bit wet, but he hadn't shaved because he sported a super-hot five o'clock shadow.
He ran his hands down her upper arms, taking her in once again. He growled softly:
"Maybe we should just skip dinner. This place isn't very good, anyway."
Lucy let forth a throaty laugh. "It has two Michelin stars... and you know what? I could eat, actually."
He grumbled audibly and pressed his lip to her ear, saying: "Fine, fine. But I make no promises that I won't lose all self-control at some point and fuck you on top of our table."
"I consider myself warned." She countered, pushing him toward the patiently hovering hostess.
He turned to her and she smiled familiarly, and said: "Right this way to your table, Mr. Mannering." Lucy snickered. Of course they knew him here. He shot her a look that said "What?" She shook her head, saying "never mind."
He grinned, stepping aside guiding Lucy to precede him, and they walked toward a small circular booth in a dark corner. The lighting was ingenious, because it illuminated the table surfaces but kept everything else intriguingly dim. The seats were curving, overstuffed, high-backed banquettes in distressed chocolate leather. The walls were lined with heavy dupioni silk drapes, punctuated by crystal sconces and ornately-framed antique daguerreotypes. One entire wall was composed of a diverse collection of distressed Rococo mirrors, which made the flickering candlelight bounce around.
Sexy ambiance? Check.
People looked up at them as they walked by. A few people nodded or waved to Stuart, and he politely nodded back. As they passed by the far end of the bar, the redhead who'd been draping herself over Stuart earlier raised her glass to them, a sarcastic smile on her crimson lips.
Lucy looked back at Stuart after they'd walked by, whispering up to him, her voice dripping with false honey: "Friend of yours?"
His reply was curt and decisive: "Definitely not." Lucy frowned, about to challenge that answer, but then they were at their table, and sitting, and the moment passed.
The hostess had deposited them, plied them with menus, asked about their water preference, and asked whether Stuart wanted his customary bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Lucy rolled her eyes; he smirked and said yes.
Finally, the hostess departed and Stuart snatched the menu from Lucy's hands and slid closer to her in the booth, pressing his lips to the sensitive point below her ear. He groaned into her skin, and a delicious shiver ran all the way through her body.
"I looked forward to this all day." He murmured. His hand grasped hers under the table, pulling it up to his heart. She moaned a little, then managed a "You did?" His teeth caught her earlobe, and he tugged a little.
"Yessss." He said, tickling her. She giggled at the sensation, squirming a little.
He sat up, looking down at her earnestly for a moment. "When I saw you standing there, looking so beautiful, I swear I couldn't breathe for a minute. Is this all for me?"
The intimacy was almost too much. Lucy hesitated for a moment, staring wide-eyed up at him.
"Oh, no, sorry - I have another hot date at 10:30..." She just managed to suppress a squeal as he grabbed her, biting her neck as punishment. He was laughing into her hair, and leaned back, looking at her with something akin to approval.
"I'm sorry—" She was still giggling a little. Then she added softly: "It was, indeed, for you. Yes. Very much so."
He leaned down and tilted her chin up to kiss her. It was a restrained little kiss, but she could feel the pent up passion simmering underneath.
"Are you wearing one of my little gifts?" His hand moved up under her skirt. Luckily, his motions were obscured by the table, which was covered with a floor-length, heavy linen table cloth.
She flushed to the roots of her hair, her hand slowing his progress. She whispered: "Stop, we're in public! But of course I am. I thought that was understood." He grunted in approval, his eyes were smoldering.
Just then, they had to straighten up as the sommelier arrived with the champagne.
The opening, tasting, pouring and settling of an ice bucket on a stand seemed to take ages. Stuart held Lucy's hand between them, teasing her fingers a little. They were careful about looking at each other, because it was almost too much.
The tingling froth of champagne in her mouth seemed to go straight to her head. Lucy felt euphoric. They were about to look at the menu, when suddenly the chef was standing at their table. Stuart stood and they half shook hands/half hugged.
Stuart introduced him: "Lucy, this is the Executive Chef and owner, Charlie Granville. I knew Charlie when he was a prep cook back in Shoreditch, before Shoreditch was cool."
Charlie guffawed: "Hey now, don't talk bollocks, I was a saucier..."
Charlie slid into their booth alongside her. Lucy liked the more down-to-earth Stuart that swapped embarrassing stories with the now famous chef. People around them were staring, but neither man noticed. He stayed chatting and laughing with them for some time.
Finally, Charlie looked at his watch and sheepishly stood, saying he had to get back to the kitchen before a riot broke out. He told them to not bother looking at the menu, because he'd send them a tasting menu of his own choosing.
