Despite her numerous assurances to the contrary, I could never get my mind off my worry that Lucianna was going to lose interest in me due to the long wait. When I was finally able to get a babysitter three weeks later, she was still very much interested in going to dinner with me. And what a dinner it was, with an even better dessert.

She left her apartment wearing a pair of black stilettos and a red v-cut cocktail dress, looping her arm through the crook of mine as we walked down the sidewalk to my car. “I probably should've told you it's not a black-tie kinda place. Now I feel a little underdressed,” I said, looking down at my own choice of grey pantsuit.

“What?” she raised a brow. “I thought you said this place was upscale.”

“No,” I corrected her, “I said it was 'pretty good'. That's the thing about Italian restaurants owned by actual Italians—the biggest emphasis is on the food. I mean, that's how it should be at all restaurants, but what can you do except vote with your wallet?”

“Ah. Sorry about that,” she giggled as I held open her door and closed it behind her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I stepped in my side and started the engine. “You look sexy as hell in that dress. I can't wait to see how many of the guys there get jealous that I have arm candy like you.”

“Or jealous of me having you,” she suggested.

“Or both,” I decided to compromise with her. The car flipped the CD to the next track, and a dulcet set of German lyrics came on.

“I never figured you for a New Wave fan,” she said.

My irritation at her interrupting the music was easy to keep in place. “What can I say? It just happened. But just sit back, listen to the instrumentation. Hear each playing its own rhythm, and how Nena's voice compliments it all. Music isn't just something to be listened to. It's something to experience.”

Lucianna sat back, clearly getting my hint. We waited just a couple of minutes after arriving for the track to finish, then got out. I'd reserved us a table in a quiet corner, and we were ushered there quickly and read over the menu. “You're the Italian here,” she said. “At least, Bertoli's an Italian name, isn't it?”

“It is, and I am.”

“What do you recommend?”

“The scampi dishes are lovely, and their lasagna's pretty mouth-watering. Or, if you're feeling brave, the linguini al nero is amazing,” I suggested.

She raised a brow. “Al nero... that's not a term I've heard before.”

“It means the pasta's been dyed black. With squid ink.”

My date blinked. “Oh. I haven't heard of that before. How's it taste?”

“The ink gives it a bit of an earthy flavor, if that's your thing. Me, I'm going with the baked ziti. And please, ignore the price tags. You're my guest tonight.” Our waiter soon approached. I ordered my ziti, and sure enough, she was brave enough to try the lingini al nero. I smirked at her. “Are you trying to impress me or something?”

“Why wouldn't I?” she grinned. “You're fun and gorgeous. And I really want to get into that head of yours when it comes to music. I'm the same way, except with movies.”

So she understood my hints earlier. “Oh, I could go on and on for hours about music. Do you have a preferred genre?”

“I'd rather know yours,” she leaned closer, giving me a nice view of her cleavage.

“I don't refuse any genre outright, but I just can't get enough of Blues. And that's strictly Southern Blues, mind you. Anyone from there would probably shoot me for saying it, but Chicago Blues has no business calling itself Blues. I'm not saying it's bad music, but it's just not Blues.” To Lucianna's credit, she hung onto every word about how Chicago Blues is too upbeat, not daring or dark enough, and doesn't make you think about life the way Southern Blues does. I didn't bother asking if she agreed because that didn't matter to me, and because she admitted halfway through that she didn't have a dog in that fight.

When the food arrived, her eyes were as wide as they'd been when I first explained what the dish name meant. “You weren't kidding. I've never seen pasta that black that wasn't burned.”

“Well, it's not burned,” I grinned, digging into my baked ziti. “Burnt pasta would be the death of any Italian place. Go on, try it. Tell me what you think.”

She wound the black noodles around her fork, held them up for a moment, stared, then pushed them into her mouth, a small trickle of the ink staying on her lips. A momentary chew, then a swallow, and she spoke. “Definitely new, but I like it.”

I smiled. “I thought you would.” Our food took up what might have been even more lively conversation, but the constant glimpses I got of her cleavage were a good motivator. She seemed to think the same of my far less revealing outfit, given she never leaned away from me and never looked the least bit uncomfortable. “Would I be correct to guess that you're in no mood for dessert?”

She nodded and I asked for the check. On the way out, she had her hand on my rear the whole way, removing any doubts I had about what she wanted. I already had a hotel in mind. “I've been wanting to do this since I saw your picture on that plaque all those years ago.”

“And I've been wanting to do it since I saw you in the coffee shop.”

Lucianna made a noise between a gasp and a laugh. “So why didn't we do something last time?!”

“Because,” I said, making a rather sharp turn, “Sleeping with someone on the first date is my way of telling them I'm not interested in a second date.”

“Clarissa,” I could hear her beaming even though I couldn't see her face, “That's the best answer you could possibly have given.”

I practically ran through the lobby of the motel getting a room booked. The moment we were inside and the door locked behind us, I shoved Lucianna against the wall, pinned her there with my mouth, and unzipped her dress, sliding it off her and tossing it aside. True to her being a self-proclaimed naturist, she was completely naked underneath it, and stepped out of her stilettos. I felt up her body slowly. It was a thing of beauty, of perfection. And for that night, it was all mine. She pulled off my jacket and unbuttoned my blouse with amazing speed and skill, biting into my shoulder as she reached behind my back and undid my black lace bra.

She hooked her fingers under my waistband, pulling my panties and nylons down with them. Of course she's experienced at getting others undressed, I thought. Her hands scraped along the outsides of my thighs as she kissed her way up the front, stopping at my freshly-shaven pussy. Taking a long whiff of me, she ran her tongue along it, sweeping it across my lips and around my clit. “You weren't kidding,” she smirked up at me. “You've really been wanting this.”

“With a gorgeous young thing like you? How could I not?”

Lucianna stood back up, her fingers rubbing soft circles around my clit. “By the time I'm done with you, you'll be all mine.”

That was quite the nerve she put on display. I slapped both her ass cheeks and gripped them firmly. “Let's get one thing straight, young lady: If you ever dominate me, it will be because I let you. Don't you ever forget that.”

“Bold words,” she said, slipping a finger inside me. “I'm eager to see if you can live up to them.” At her daring, I lifted her up and carried her as she hurriedly grabbed my shoulders for balance over to the bed, and laid her over the side of it. “Clarissa? Are you really...OH!” She suddenly got far less cheeky when I pressed my lips to her pussy and rapidly flicked my tongue in and out of her. “Oh god, Clarissa... mmm...”

I dug my face into her crotch, reaching up to her breasts and grabbing them, her nipples threading between my fingers. She moaned, grabbing my wrists and bouncing her hips. This I took as an invitation to dive deeper into her pussy, drilling my tongue all around and humming softly. Her moans went up in pitch and her grip on my wrists tightened. Then, her thighs clamped against my face. Hard. “Mmph!” I protested as her feet dug into my back and she held me firmly in place.

“You think...ahhh...you can dominate me? You may be a mother, but... rrrrmmm... I have ten girls who call me Mommy!” I looked up at her and saw her staring down at me, a biting grin on her face. “That's it...you eat my pussy good.”

That was what I'd planned to do, but I still didn't appreciate being ordered around like that. In retaliation, I pinched her nipples roughly between my thumbs and forefingers. “Whooooaaah!” Her back immediately arched and her moans doubled in volume. I twisted them savagely as I focused my tongue on the roof of her pussy. Her thighs loosened and I released one of her breasts, putting those fingers where my tongue had just been. “A thigh lock? Such a cheap move. I'll make you regret that.” I rested my top teeth gently on her hood, feeling her little nub brushing against them. Her thighs resting on my shoulders, I climbed onto the bed, supporting her hips as her upper back rested on the mattress.

“I... haven't lost...yet!” Lucianna's hand snaked its way up my thigh. I was too focused on torturing her breast and fingering her savagely to stop her from what I quickly figured out she was doing. She felt around my hips, between my legs, and gave my drenched pussy a few rubs before sliding a couple of fingers in. I squeezed down on them with all my might, but she was too experienced to let this push her out. It had become a speed and endurance contest. I curled my fingers into a “come hither” gesture while I sucked ravenously on her clit. My head start helped me, and as I tasted her growing arousal, I found myself caring less about our little contest. I stopped holding myself back when I felt her hips moving again. She let out a surprisingly soft cry and flooded my mouth with her juices, which I eagerly drank down.

This wasn't enough to throw her off, and her fingering not only continued but intensified. My own hips started bouncing on her hand and when my pleasure seemed it could go no higher, I felt a distinct clamping sensation inside me. I moved my hips faster, and felt her arm moving with them. I looked down and saw her thumb pressing on top of my hood. No matter how I ground or moved my hips around on her, I just couldn't cum. “Neat trick,” I snarled at her, resuming my rhythm. Without warning, she loosened her grip, and my orgasm hit me like a storm front. My mind went blank and my torso shook.

When my senses returned, I felt myself being pushed onto the bed by a pair of strong legs and saw Lucianna sitting up, prying my legs open. “You let your guard down, Clarissa,” she chided me before swirling her tongue around me, cleaning my thighs and pussy quite thoroughly. She climbed up me and bit my shoulder, then licked my neck. I felt her hips resting between my legs and her clit seeking out mine. The moment they touched, she ground into me. I looked down her back and saw her butt moving up, down, and around as she humped me repeatedly.

Not wanting her to think she had the full advantage, I wrapped my legs around her hips, pressing her harder into me, urging her to do what she'd already planned, just as she'd done to me earlier. We kissed hungrily, pawing at one another's chests. Already sensitive from what we'd just done, it wasn't long before we fully gave ourselves over to each other. I doubt either of us knew who climaxed first that time around, but when I came to, I felt her scattering soft, appreciative kisses all over my face. Just to let her know I'd come to, I kissed her on the lips the moment they were close enough. “Let's call it a tie, shall we?”

She laughed, tapping her finger on the tip of my nose. “Tie or whatever, I had a lot of fun. But you really should let me dominate you sometime. I promise, I'm really good at it.”

I rested a hand on her butt, just taking in the feel of it. “I believe you. And I'm good at it, too. My husband never grew tired of watching me turn his interns into squirming messes.”

Lucianna kissed my cheek. “He's an idiot for what he did to you.”

“Maybe. But I'm kind of glad he did. I might never have met you otherwise.”

“You might have. But then I might've just been another girl you had a threesome with. Though who knows? There's an infinite number of sliding doors, and an infinite number of possibilities. What's the point of getting lost in what ifs?”

I kissed her back. “Long as you don't go deep, they can be fun. But I'd rather focus on the here and now. Especially with you here, on top of me now.”

“Shame we can't spend the night. I'd love to wake up on top of you.”

“Who knows? That day may come.” I grinned, and pulled her head in for one last kiss before we had to dress and leave.