Chapter 6: The Vacation of a Lifetime, Part 3
The restaurant where David had made our dinner reservations was only a block away. It had been recommended to him by a friend. David told me that it was an Italian restaurant, but not in the usual sense. Spaghetti dishes and lasagna would likely not be on the menu, he said, because the food was regional, mostly from Tuscany. We walked in the front door, still bubbling with excitement from the theater. Perhaps that's what led David to do something incredibly rash as we stood in front of the maitre d'.
"The name is M******* and we have a reservation for dinner."
As he was saying this, David reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a Benjamin and handed it to the guy. I was dumbfounded, standing there speechless, watching while David spoke.
"Sir, you have before you two customers who are seriously in love with each other. We would be forever grateful if you could seat us in some extra-special, out-of-the-way location."
The man that David was talking to appeared to be just as perplexed as I was, looking back and forth between the bill he had been handed and David, not knowing what to say. Eventually, an idea seemed to strike him. His face brightened and he held up a finger, pointing in the air.
"If you two would kindly have a seat," he said, indicating some overstuffed chairs by the door, "let me make some inquiries. I'll be back shortly."
We sat there for a few minutes, holding hands, in total silence, David was looking around like he was waiting for a bus and I was trying as hard as I could not to say anything. Considering that neither of us is wealthy, this whole situation was exceedingly odd, but since I was just along for the ride, I did my best not to over-react.
The maitre d' came back, asked us to wait a few more minutes and then guided us to the restaurant's banquet room on the second floor, which was not in use. One wall had 4 or 5 floor-to-ceiling, French-style doors to the outside, one of which had been opened onto a mini-sized balcony that was obviously there for decorative purposes only. In the middle of the opened doorway, there was a very small bistro table, barely big enough to hold the two place settings sitting on top of it. This is where we were seated. A wheeled cart was sitting close by with a pitcher of water, condiments and bottles of various kinds of olive oil and sauces.
The lights in the room were not turned on but there was dim illumination from other parts of the restaurant spilling in through the banquet room doors. In addition, there was light from the city and from two large candles sitting on the wainscoting on either side of the opening to the outside. As soon as we were alone, I could resist speaking no longer.
"You know, David, I was going to tell you that you'd lost your mind, giving that man all that money, but I have to say, this is the most dreamy setting for dinner I've ever seen. Did you have any idea they were going to do this?"
"No, I didn't. . . pretty nice though, isn't it."
After a little more idle conversation, since our chairs were right next to each other, David put his arm around me and we kissed. Quite passionately, in fact. I felt his hand on my knee, which meant that the hem of my skirt was raised slightly on his wrist but I didn't feel alarmed because he didn't seem to be on the verge of doing anything untoward. Being occupied this way, neither of us were aware that our waiter had come up and was standing nearby.
"Ahem. . . excuse me" he said and held out a couple of menus towards us.
We broke our kiss but David continued holding on to me and spoke to the waiter, not looking at him but gazing into my eyes instead, his head only inches from mine.
"We won't need those. Ask the chef to make us whatever suits his fancy, whatever he thinks he makes best. . . We like anything, so whatever you bring will be just fine."
"Well. . . ordinarily we don't do that. . ." but, since David didn't seem to be paying any attention to him and started kissing me again, "but maybe in this case we can make an exception. . . listen, I'll see what I can do," and he turned and started walking away.
David broke our kiss and called after him.
"OH. . . and bring us a bottle of Chianti, please, whatever brand you recommend."
"Very good, sir."
Needless to say, everything was fabulous and maybe an hour and a half later we left, completely stuffed on things I'd never eaten before and couldn't identify now, because we never saw what they are called on the menu. Not being drinkers, with half a bottle of wine between us, we were also both drunk as skunks. The whole thing was impossibly romantic, the most wonderful meal I've ever eaten.
Our night in the hotel was loving and cuddly but otherwise uneventful. We made love before going to sleep and again first thing in the morning, before leaving early to catch the ferry. Just as you would expect, I dressed wearing one of the skirts David had bought for me, with the appropriate accompaniment underneath, which is to say, nothing at all. Luckily, on the boat David behaved himself but, while we were walking around the deck, I noticed that I was having trouble getting used to feeling cool breezes in places where I wasn't used to feeling cool breezes.
Speaking of which, it goes without saying that once we got back in the car and started driving back to the resort, David became interested in determining if his skirt scheme was working the way he had hoped. He reached across the center console and fingered me while he drove. In the few short days since I had become his conquest, my attitude about this type of thing had changed dramatically, so I wasn't the slightest nervous. In fact, I relished every minute of it, pushing back with my hips until he made me cum, giving him loud, unmistakable vocal signals that I had, using both sounds AND words.
That evening, after dinner, David and I sat on the chairs on the front porch of our cabin, watching the sun drop below the surrounding hills, and had a very interesting conversation. We reminisced about things we had lived through together, years before. After a while, our conversation became decidedly confessional. We admitted things to each other that we had never talked about.
"You know David, there's something I've always wondered. . . when you were looking at my picture that day I saw you playing with yourself. . . how long before that did you start thinking of me that way?"
