The ride to the restaurant had been filled with giggles, leg-stroking and affectionate glances, but Connor had stopped short of utilising the power he held in the form of his phone and the remote-controlled vibrator, which sat snugly in Sinead’s tight and somewhat writhing cunt. She had a warm glow from the exploits of the bedroom and the shower from earlier, but there was also a tension which ran through her at the thought that her wireless pal could be initiated at any time, and she was powerless to do anything about it. Trying to put it at the back of her mind, which was proving to be an impossible task, she looked out of the window of the silver Mercedes taxi to see that they had arrived at a rather plush looking restaurant. The canopied entrance had a red carpet, leading up to gold-framed doors and a concierge to open the door for arriving and departing guests.
“I’d best be on my best behaviour,” thought Sinead, which made the thought of what lay inside her even more thrilling and terrifying. Whilst currently dormant, she knew that Connor had every intention of making her squirm, wriggle and generally impossible to sit still for the entirety of the evening. She also knew it turned him on greatly to be in possession of such power and that only served to turn her on more. She wanted to play the game. She wanted to be the one writhing at his behest. This couple seemed, on the surface, to be just two normal people who were clearly in love. They shared laughs. They challenged each other. They were, in all respects, ‘normal’. However, hidden beneath the surface, the passion between them was electric. So much so, that both were constantly on the edge of being consumed by their animalistic desires; happy to rip the others’ clothes off and make crazy, earth-shattering love with them at any given moment. Conversely, they were so very happy in the mundane, the routine and the day-to-day grind of life with each other that it would be hard to tell that this wanton desire was anywhere to be seen.
On this night, one where the oppressive rain clouds had dissipated to reveal a starry sky free from light pollution, a chilly Sinead knew that those same wanton desires would very much be at the forefront of both of their minds and their actions. Indeed, as the car door was opened by the ever-chivalrous Connor, he couldn’t help but run his hands from where the peachy cheeks of her pert bottom met, down the enticing crevice and giving a firm squeeze to each one. On its own, this would be far from extraordinary, but Connor pressed his index finger just a little firmer than the rest of his open palm, pressing it deep into the crack and feeling the bud of her hole, unrestricted by underwear. This unexpected interaction caused Sinead to jump forwards slightly in surprise.
“Right, this is a posh gaff, so behave, Tracey!” Connor joked in a mock-cockney accent.
“Oh, Gary! This is gonna be fackin’ amaaazin’!” replied Sinead, taking the mockney up a notch whilst they were still out of earshot of the concierge.
Adjusting themselves to be more in keeping with their seemingly upper-class surroundings, the couple strode in rigid fashion towards the concierge, nodding and offering a grateful smile as he heaved open the large door to allow them to enter.
“Good evening, Madam. Sir,” the elderly greeter announced, in a booming voice.
As they walked through the entrance, Connor allowed Sinead to go before him, which offered him the opportunity to begin the evenings’ erotic playtime. As they approached the reception desk - it was the sort of restaurant which had a reception desk - Connor turned the device on, initially at a low level, before returning his phone to his blazer pocket. Sinead, who had arrived at the desk and was smiling at the receptionist, smiled even wider as a low hum and tingling vibration shot through her lower body. Trying in desperation to ignore the wonderful buzz, Sinead stared wildly at the receptionist, unable to break her gaze for fear of falling to the floor and finger-fucking herself into oblivion.
“Good evening,” Connor intervened, “We have a table for two booked for seven-thirty. The name of Buttons.”
“Certainly, Sir, please follow me.” The receptionist turned, beckoned the couple to follow her through a narrow archway, which opened out into a large atrium, filled with the hum of a maelstrom of people enjoying lavish dishes, unnecessarily expensive wines and cackling laughs.
The table they were shown to was right in the heart of the restaurant, surrounded by tables full of people in tuxedos, dinner suits and cocktail gowns. It was going to be hard to hide any sort of pleasure with so many people in such close proximity. As they took their seats, the vibrations increased in their intensity. So much so, the receptionist, who was just pushing the chair in as Sinead sat down, gave a questioning glance to her female patron. Basking in his unbridled power, Connor was overtly grateful to the receptionist, as if to say, “Oh, don’t worry about her!”
In order to maintain this control without having to continually reach inside his jacket pocket, Connor rested his phone on his lap, which was safely out of view having been tucked under the table. Wanting to re-establish his position of authority, Connor reached down and slid his finger across the screen, pushing the device up to full power. Sinead’s eyes closed and her lips pursed, as she struggled not to writhe and grind her hips into her seat. Connor moved his finger up and down rapidly, the device instantly responding and the deep buzzing becoming intermittently more and less audible. Sinead whispered a breathless “Stop, pleeease!” and, with a final flourish of sustained full-power vibrating, Connor closed the app and locked his phone.
“Right, where’s the waiter with the wine list?” Connor queried in a deadpan tone as if nothing had happened. Sinead let out a giggling sigh, fully aware that this was only the beginning of the night, and the forthcoming evening of edging was going to push her to her limits of control. As if listening for his question, a young, smartly groomed waiter appeared bearing two leather-bound menus with ‘WINE’ embossed in gold lettering across the front of them.
“Good evening, Madam, Sir. Welcome to La Nouvelle. My name is Patrick, and I will be looking after you this evening. here are your wine lists; can I get you any water while you peruse the menu?”
“Yes, please. We would like some iced still water please and I would be grateful if you could make sure there is plenty of ice,” Connor said in a stern yet friendly manner.
“Certainly, Sir. I will be back with your water momentarily.” The waiter nodded politely and whisked off through the melee of tables towards a set of double doors which were clearly where the kitchen was located.
Playing the role of direct, borderline misogynistic high-flyer to perfection, Connor spent the evening ordering on behalf of Sinead whenever Patrick returned. In contrast to his outwardly cold demeanour, Connor spent the entire meal running his foot up the inside of Sinead’s smooth, perfect leg. However, having consumed both the starter and the majority of the main course without any further twinges from the love egg, Sinead had been driven insane with frustration. Worried he had forgotten but not wanting to address it directly, Sinead broke her stare from Connor and glanced down to her crotch, almost nodding as if to say, “Aren’t you going to turn our friend on?!” The glances seemingly went unnoticed, which further drove Sinead wild. When they had finished their main course, Sinead had all but resigned herself to the fact that the playing was over for the evening.