Table for One Dinner for Two

All participants are over 18.

*****

Lewis received the invitation in the mail with some surprise. A free à la carte dinner for one (who promoted a dinner for one?) in exchange for an honest review on a travel advisory website of his choice from a list provided. And the best part: the offer came from one of the finest hotel restaurants in the city.

But there was an expiry date. The offer was only good for the next seven days. Reservation required. Lewis looked at his calendar and picked a date. He called the number and verified the offer he received with the maitre d'. Almost to his surprise, the manager confirmed the invitation was very real and asked if Lewis would like to make a reservation.

"Friday at six p.m.," Lewis suggested.

The maitre d' confirmed the reservation.

"We will look forward to serving you, sir."

And just like that it was done.

The week passed quickly and before Lewis knew it, it was Friday. He worked until five and left his car in the parking lot. It was a brisk walk to the restaurant from the office, but it was easier than finding another parking spot in the city on a Friday night.

When he realized he was going to be early, he slowed his pace and stopped to smell the flowers, so to speak. He sat on a bench outside the hotel and people-watched for a few minutes. Lewis liked to fade into the background while paying attention to those around him. He preferred not to be noticed himself.

At exactly six o'clock, Lewis walked across the hotel lobby and followed the signs toward Le Jardin, the hotel restaurant. He was greeted at the podium by the maitre d', who introduced himself as Robert (he pronounced it in the French manner) and confirmed his reservation.

"Right this way, if you please, sir."

Lewis followed the thin gentleman in black formal wear to a surprisingly large table set for one. It was draped with a long tablecloth. Robert pulled his chair out for him and Lewis sat down, comfortably close to the table. Robert left him with a menu and a few recommendations and advised him that Paul would be his waiter.

The table was placed in a corner, giving Lewis an excellent view of the crowded room. There were several couples seated at tables the same size as Lewis'. There were groups of white-collar professionals sitting at the larger tables. Even though he'd worn his best jacket and tie, Lewis felt a little underdressed against the formality of the other diners.

Paul was waiting on Lewis less than a minute after Robert left him.

"Can I get you anything to drink, sir?"

It didn't feel right to order a beer in such a fancy establishment. "What do you recommend?" he asked the waiter.

The waiter suggested a particularly expensive champagne. Lewis wondered if that was how they recouped their costs on dinner, by upselling their most expensive alcohol.

Paul seemed to read his mind. "Your beverages are included as part of your dinner special, courtesy of the management, sir."

Lewis was stunned. Free alcohol. He wasn't sure that was even legal in this jurisdiction outside of a casino, but so long as he wasn't being billed, he saw no reason not to take advantage of the full offer.

"In that case, I'll try the Dom Perignon."

"An excellent choice, sir," Paul said as he poured Lewis a glass of ice water.

Paul retreated, leaving Lewis with the menu. Lewis was pleased. If the meal was as good as the service, it should be something indeed.

Lewis watched his fellow diners for a few minutes. Their meals looked as exquisite as the diners themselves. Many of the women were quite beautiful. Lewis regretted he was single for just a moment. Nothing would be finer than sharing a meal like the one he was expecting with someone special.

Then something unexpected occurred. Something touched his foot. Lewis' whole body contracted slightly and he pulled his legs back toward his chair. He looked around the room. No one had noticed his sudden jump of surprise.

"Is everything quite alright, sir?" Paul asked as he returned with Lewis's champagne.

"Of course," Lewis said. He had certainly imagined it.

The waiter asked Lewis if he would like an appetizer, and again Lewis was guided by the man's recommendation. He had little experience ordering in a high-end restaurant.

As the waiter walked away, he felt it again. This time he did not jump.

Was it a mouse? Lord, a rat?

It was on both his feet. He felt it through his shoes. It was only when he felt two distinct contacts moving up his legs to his knees that he realized that they were hands.

Lewis was more than curious. His instinct was to lift up the linens and look underneath the table, but he was in unfamiliar surroundings and he wasn't sure how to act and one of those hands had just taken off his right shoe.

And then the left.

Lewis coloured deeply and he told himself not to panic as his socks were peeled from his feet. He felt her lift his right foot up so close to her face he could feel her breath on his toes. Then his big toe was sucked into her mouth, triggering a strong pleasure response in Lewis. He liked having his feet touched. She wrapped her tongue around each toe in its turn, sucking them clean in the slowest, most sensual way possible. Lewis felt a stiffening in his cock.

Paul returned with his appetizer.

A warm, moist tongue licked Lewis' arch.

Lewis didn't even hear what the appetizer was called. Part of him wanted to ask Paul if he knew about the toe-sucker under the table. Was this a service offered to VIPs? Lewis couldn't imagine how to frame the question, and Paul left him to enjoy his appetizer.

Teeth nibbled at his heel. It was a turn-on.

Lewis knew the situation was strange and that he should try to take control of it, end it before it really began. There was a potential here for embarrassment.

But what exactly was he to do? Shout under the table linens for her to stop? Should he stand up with a boner and bare feet and slut-shame the woman under the table before the restaurant's clientele?

He realized he was not eating and this would look odd to the surrounding diners, not to mention his waiter. He forced a few bites down.

In the meantime, she finished with his right foot and began to repeat the performance on his left foot. His cock was doing push-ups in his pants.

Paul quietly returned to collect the appetizer dishes.

She continued to work for several minutes on Lewis' left foot. She had just finished nuzzling the hard skin of his left heel, when Paul returned with the main course.

Paul announced Lewis' prime rib dinner.

Lewis thanked the waiter, but his voice changed pitch dramatically as she slid her hands up over the inside of his calves to his knees and beyond to the inside of the thighs.

The waiter gave Lewis a quizzical look but he only invited him to enjoy his meal.

Those hands still massaged the inside of his thighs.

As Lewis strove to maintain an appearance of normality, he picked up his knife and fork and cut into his meat. As he did so, the hands moved again. One of them cupped the bulge in his pants. Without thinking, Lewis spread his legs to allow her better access. He couldn't see the hand; even at this altitude, it was hidden by the tablecloth.

The pressure on his groin was suddenly relieved and for a moment he felt nothing. He thought the strange service might have concluded. Then he felt hands skilfully unbuckling his belt. unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them. Before he could wonder if he should be doing something about this, his cock was open to the air, at least to the air under the table. Again, a long few moments passed before he felt a hand take hold of the root of his penis while a tongue feathered the tip lightly.

Lewis groaned audibly. In the noise of the restaurant, nobody heard him. The woman under the table licked the length of the shaft a few times before twisting her tongue around the glans. When she absorbed the entire head of his penis in her mouth and began to suck on it, he moaned out loud again.

This time he was heard by a lady a table away. She looked at him inquiringly. He pointed at his food and mouthed the words "so good" with a smile. She met the smile and looked back to her dining companions.

Her head bobbed up and down below the tabletop and the tablecloth billowed against his hips in rhythm to her movements. Whenever he came close to coming, she would slow down and give him time to catch up. When he could be stimulated without risk again, she would increase speed again.

She was torturing him. He wanted so badly to come. He began to thrust his hips at her in time to her movements, but she merely put her hands on his thighs and pressed him down, commanding his patience.

He had so many questions. Who was she? Was she a blonde, a brunette or a redhead? Was she White, Black, Asian or Hispanic? Where did she learn to suck cock like this? And why was she under his table?

Lewis could not contain his curiosity even in a state of near-bliss. He reached under the tablecloth and put his hands on either side of her head.

And that's when he felt the stubble.

There was no mistaking what he felt on the sides of the head giving him head: it was about a day's worth of beard growth.

There could be no doubt really. She was either a bearded lady or she was actually a he, and between a rare renegade sideshow performer or a man, a man was far more likely.

Lewis was being blown by a man.

The thought defied his comprehension. The colour returned to his cheeks. His ears reddened.

"Are you quite alright, sir?" Paul asked. He had come over to ask if his customer's meal was satisfactory, but for the second time this evening, there was a note of concern in the waiter's voice. From Lewis' florid complexion, he may have wondered if the customer was having a severe allergic reaction.

"I'm... I'm fine." I think. "Everything's excellent." Lewis cut off a piece of his prime rib and raised it to his mouth. He gave the waiter a thumbs up.

"Very good, sir," Paul said, slightly reassured. He turned and walked away.

Under the table, the man was kneading Lewis' thighs as he massaged his cock with his mouth. Man or not, it felt like Heaven.

Lewis was close to coming five or six times, but each time the man under the table read the signs and backed off on his efforts. What was he doing? What was he waiting for?

"Dessert, sir," Paul said, setting a piece of cake down in front of him.

"Thank you, Paul," Lewis groaned.

The waiter, by now convinced that Lewis was a little strange, took this in stride and attended on other diners.

Meanwhile, the tongue below the table was winding its way up and down and around his cock in a twist of delight. Not for the first time since sitting down here tonight, Lewis shivered. He was so horny he didn't care that it was a man driving his excitement. Perhaps that fact even added to it in a way.

Presently, Lewis had to keep up appearances. He thrust his fork into the dessert and put a piece in his mouth. It was exquisite.

As if that was the cue he had been waiting for, the man under the table began to blow him again. Slowly, oh, so slowly. Of course, this was dessert for the senses.

When Lewis came, he bucked his hips toward the man's mouth and the peculiar jerking movement was noticed by other diners. Lewis didn't care at first, but as he came down he looked around the restaurant and all eyes were on him. He flushed and consciously returned to eating his dessert. After long moments passed, the restaurant clientele returned to their meals and their conversations.

As Lewis cleaned off his plate, the mouth below was licking him clean. When that was done, Lewis felt gentle hands tucking his spent penis back into his pants. He buttoned him, zipped him and buckled him back to a presentable appearance. Then the man under the table backed off and didn't touch him again.

Lewis waited a few minutes, finishing his champagne. At last, he pushed his chair back from the table and stood. The waiter returned and asked if Lewis enjoyed his supper.

"I don't think I've enjoyed a meal more."

He never did see his cocksucker, but when he got home and changed out of his clothes, he discovered that he had been left a souvenir, dropped into his pants before they were zipped up: a plain white business card with a phone number in black ink. On the back it said ANY TIME in neat hand-printed letters.

Lewis did not throw the card out.