It was supposed to be a romantic meal for two. A quiet night at a local fish restaurant. Our table was against the wall and I was fortunate enough to look outwards and into the restaurant while my boyfriend had me to look at. How fortunate he was!

As we ordered our meal, another couple took a table just to our left and behind my boyfriend. A guy, all on his own, occupied one in the opposite corner. He was dishy and I admit that my eyes gazed in his direction more than once through the evening, though it was the posh woman at the table nearest us, the one that spoke with an upper-class accent, the one in her fifties that seemed to catch my eye more than she should have.

While my boyfriend ate, I looked past him and directly at her. She was with her husband but he had his back to me. Her accent was sublime, I loved it. I watched her eat, listened to her talk, whisper, and even became tetchy with my boyfriend when he tried to have a conversation with me. My whole body was hanging on her every move.

I swear, I gasped when I saw her tease the prawn between her red lips before she swallowed it. She engulfed it like it was a prize clitoris that needed the most elegant of touches. Like it was a prized possession that only she had the key for. The way she sucked at the linguine was no better.  Everything she did just turned me on. I even stared at her over the top of my wine glass with every sip I took.

It was fair to say she had my full attention all through the evening. I don’t know when it happened but at some point I found her gazing at me.  I was always careful to avert my gaze as soon as she looked in my direction but at that particular moment, all I could see was her green eyes looking directly back at me – watching, a glass of red wine poised ready to take a drink. I was caught in her headlights and all I could do was stare back; studying her lips, her nose, her eyes and her lovely smile.

Her gaze had that knowing look like she knew something that I didn’t. Maybe she knew that I had chosen the wrong meal and that better ones were waiting patiently on the menu – who knew?

She broke the connection between us to talk to the waiter. The connection that had my nipples achingly stiff and in need of attention. It had been a while since I indulged that part of me. That part of me that my boyfriend sitting opposite knew very little about.

We started looking at the desserts but I knew what I wanted. Crème Brulee.

I put the menu down and noticed her flick her head in the direction off to my right, her eyes were looking straight at me. She smiled. She did this several times. I eventually turned my head to notice the sign for the toilets. She got up and headed in that direction, staring at me as she passed. All the while her eyes were imploring me to follow her. I got up, made my excuses and instructed my boyfriend what he should order for my dessert.

I was excited to follow her because I thought she wanted to tell me something in private. Maybe she thought I was as intriguing as I thought she was.  She entered the loo and I rounded the door after her, not sure what to expect if anything. I certainly didn’t expect her lips to clash with mine as she pushed me against the mirror. I recovered from the shock of being off guard and started to devour her probing tongue. One hand had attached itself to my aching nipple and the other searched for my soft mound underneath my tight jeans. Her fingers pushed into my slit but the thickness of my jeans stopped me from getting any direct pleasure from it.

“You’ve been looking at me all night,” she said, “undressing me with your come-to-bed eyes and I’ve noticed how your nipples stand out when you gaze at me.”

She moved backwards towards a cubicle, pulling me with her while we kissed. I didn’t have time to respond to her statements but she was right. When she reached the seat she pulled her skirt up and held it at her stomach. She pulled her panties to one side. I was impressed she had bothered to wear any the way she manhandled me. She sat down, opened her legs, reached up and started pulling me down by my top. My face met her lips and it was all I could do to shut the cubicle door with my backside. It remained unlocked even as she pulled my face into her cunt.

My tongue extended and before I knew it, I was in heaven and licking sweet pussy. The tip of my tongue probed her hole, the flat of my tongue lapped at her lips and the palms of my hands pushed her thighs apart as far as the cubicle walls would allow. I felt exceptionally hungry and I was eating my dessert before it had been delivered to the table.

My thumbs prised her labia open. The sight of her clit caused me to head straight for it and my tongue flicked over it. My head was still, the only thing moving was my tongue and the quivering feeling that was making itself felt in her thighs. I knew I was going to take her, devour her pussy and eat her out.

She came hard. Her hand grasped the back of my head but it didn't stop me pleasuring her. She bit down on her other hand in an attempt to stop herself from crying out too loudly. If anything, they would have been posh sobs and not the kind us normal people have.

I don’t think she was expecting this encounter to take the turn it did. I thought she'd expected to surprise me, shock me, make me wish I hadn't spent so much time looking in her direction I think she had expected me to be horrified at her sudden advances. She didn’t expect me to respond the way I did and devour her cunt in the way I had.

Fuck, she tasted gorgeous and when she climaxed, it was even nicer. I felt empowered that I had brought this posh bitch off in the ladies' cubicle of all places.

She remained seated on the toilet, her thighs quivering and shaking, her breathing ragged. I pulled some toilet paper from the roll, stood up and mopped up her juices from my mouth and chin, careful not to smudge my lipstick.

“Thank you, you tasted gorgeous, I needed that,” I said, leaving her in the cubicle to recover as I washed my hands, splashed a little water in my face, dried it using the paper towels, made myself presentable and left.

I sat down at the table and immediately started eating.

The Crème Brulee tasted different for some reason. The coffee was a good move as it would hide any trace of her on my lips and mouth, at least I hoped it would. I couldn't believe the calmness with which she eventually appeared and then sat down and started chatting with her husband, it was as if she had never left the table, never opened her legs, never pushed my face between her thighs and never allowed an orgasm to flood out from her pretty little cunt.

She was one cool character.

My boyfriend queried as to why it took so long and I was thankful for the usual excuse of the queue for the one toilet that was marked with an F. He dropped the subject.

I ate my sweet without looking at her. I think if I had, my lips would have formed a huge grin and I would have some explaining to do.

As it was, I kept the sheer thrill I was experiencing trapped inside me. My nipples still ached, my pussy leaked and my knickers were sodden. I wanted to go right back in there and make her eat me.

I looked up and saw that she was smiling at me, biting her lip. My hand started shaking and she knew she had tormented me and I think she knew the kind of state I was now in. I knew that I had shocked her with my actions.

My boyfriend got up from the table and made his way to the loo. I was surprised when she got up too and approached the table. Her husband watched and followed her with his eyes. I wondered how much they had communicated about the whole episode.

“Excuse me, but aren’t you Louise Phelps?”

No, I wasn't, but I nodded that I was.

“I’ve been pondering all evening, I thought I recognised you. You must give me a ring when you have nothing on because I’d love to talk with you regarding your photography,” she handed me what looked like a business card but with only her name and number on it. I loved the way she nonchalantly handed it to me as if nothing had happened.

I smiled, “I will,” I replied, “nice to make your acquaintance.”  The innuendo about having nothing on didn't go amiss, and as for her ring, I wouldn't be giving her one, next time, I’d be taking it, too.

I wondered whether I would have to buy myself a camera, to keep up the pretence.

My boyfriend returned as she was leaving the table. I drank the coffee. He finished his beer and paid the bill.

I felt a pang of regret in the pit of my stomach. I grasped her phone number tightly in my fist because I knew, at that precise moment, I was leaving the restaurant with the wrong person. I nodded and smiled in her direction as I left.

I simply couldn't wait to invite her around one afternoon…when I had nothing on.