Mack sat at the table in Antoine's. Nervously. The table was in a prime spot, the client was a big deal and Abby had been gone about thirty seconds too long. "She'll be right back, I'm sure she's fine. We had a long day with the flight down here and all."
His rotund, big deal client, Mr. Landreth tipped his whiskey at a precarious angle swallowed and sat the empty glass down with a clink. His face brightened as the missing woman slipped back into her chair. He greeted her merrily upon her return, "Oysters gettin to ya, miss?" The Louisiana accent was just as rich as the ettouffee and the whiskey.
"Oh, no, They're delicious. They slide right down. Sometimes a girl just has to fix her makeup, Mr. Landreth." Abby patted his fleshy hand with her delicate fingers and Landreth laughed, oblivious as she slid her napkin toward her husband with a message on the corner reading, "how much longer"
Mack smiled a "this is business, we'll just have to put up with him for as long as he wants to talk" smile; until she reached across the table and slipped the panties into his hand. Recognizing the feel of the fabric, he pulled his hand off the table and wide eyed shot glances at his wife and their guest.
Landreth was worrying the final oyster from its shell. Abby merely smiled.
The panties, silk with lace edges, taunted the palm of his hand but were dropped with lack of interest as Abby reached under the table and pulled his hand between her smooth, bare thighs. Business was not that important anymore.
"Check! We're going to need to get the check Mr Landreth." Mack scanned the restaurant floor for any sign of staff.
The waiter returned with maddening slowness, reviewed the order and made a correction with the speed of a sloth. Landreth barely made an attempt to reach for the tab. Mack expected no different, slipping his gold card into the holder and passing it to the waiter before the man could saunter away. The three stood, the men shaking hands, Abby placing a discreet kiss on Landreth's gin blossom cheek. Mack smiled, that deal would close, no questions asked. At last, with a final handshake he took Abby's elbow and led her from the restaurant, her silk panties waiting for discovery on the five-star restaurant's carpeted floor.
New Orleans humidity hit them like a smack in the face and before they had walked a full block their skin was bathed in fine perspiration. Neither spoke. At a darkened street corner he stopped and pushing her backwards, trapped her in a deserted doorway.
His mouth was on her's before she could breath and his hands were on her thighs and then just as quickly on her bare ass. The night air circulated under her lifted skirt as he kneaded her soft flesh, then boldly, he slipped one hand around to her pelvis and between her legs. His fingers moved quickly as they found their way to her own moist and humid place and she gasped and threw her head back against the plate glass of the door. The old wood creaked in response to the pressure of their bodies as he worked his fingers inside her.
The whoop of a group of frat boys down on Bourbon broke the spell and as quickly as he had begun, he removed his hands from her bare flesh. He replaced one hand on her elbow and the other he slipped into his mouth...fingers only...the taste of her a suitable finish to the evening meal.
The hotel was at the next corner. They arrived in silence and sweat and he took the fingers until recently inside her and slowly pressed the button to call the rickety old elevator.
She turned to face him as the car arrived and the doors slid open. "I hope you aren't finished..."
