The Thrill Of It All Ch. 02

There was always later... she hoped.

Quickly, hoping not to be caught, Roberta reached down to her skirt and started to button up again. She managed to do up two more buttons before John opened her car door and held his hand out.

"That'll do," John called out. "Why hide your beautiful legs?"

Roberta glanced down at her skirt. That'll do? With only half of the six buttons done up, there was enough to cover her modesty when standing, but only just. Roberta knew she would need to be incredibly careful if she wasn't to put on an impromptu show for all around. Roberta took hold of John's outstretched hand.

There was no ladylike way to do this, not with her already short skirt half undone. She swung her legs around and, as quickly as possible, climbed out of the car. Immediately Roberta felt the chill of the evening air against her now naked, yet still very wet sex. Standing at the side of the car, Roberta rearranged her skirt, pulling it down as low over her hips as she could. She was so engrossed in making sure there was a degree of decency in her appearance, that a conversation to one side took her completely by surprise.

"Nice evening isn't it," came an older sounding man's voice.

"Very nice," John responded. "Enjoy your dinner," John continued, before adding "I know I'm gonna enjoy mine," the latter in whispered words, only audible to John and his darling wife.

By the time Roberta looked up again, satisfied that she could walk without disgracing herself, John was alone again. Who had he been talking to? Roberta quickly glanced around, looking for this stranger. All she could see were an older couple, in their sixties, a man with who she assumed was his wife. Roberta relaxed. They were just passing polite pleasantries, nothing more.

It was then that the older man turned his head back towards Roberta. The smile on his face told a different story. Had he seen her? Had he watched Roberta's ungainly attempt to climb out of the car without exposing herself? Roberta did wonder if he had, and just how much he had seen. Was it simply her choice of attire which had grabbed the old guy's attention, or had she just given him the sort of thrill which was normally a distant memory? Either way, Roberta didn't mind. Excitement was now taking over from disappointment as she followed John towards what was a smart looking restaurant.

"Good evening, sir... ma'am," a middle-aged waiter, dressed in dinner suit and bow tie, welcomed John and Roberta. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes, for six thirty," John replied, giving his name. "We are a bit early though."

"Let me check, sir," the waiter responded, heading off inside. Moments later he returned. "It will be about fifteen minutes, sir. Why don't you and your gorgeous wife take a seat at the bar whilst you wait. Maybe a pre-meal drink? I can recommend the cocktails."

As they followed the waiter, Roberta started to become self-conscious. In her shirt skirt, figure hugging blouse, and heels, she felt wrongly dressed for this place. Why hadn't John told her it was posh? Dressed in his work suit, even without a tie, he was fine, but what did she look like? Roberta didn't want to glance around, but in her mind, she could feel all eyes bearing down on her.

She did her best not to have the open front of her skirt flapping around as she walked. The bar itself though posed another challenge. Around half a dozen high stools ran along the front of a long wooden counter. Roberta looked at her husband, then down at one of the stools. What was she going to do? Could she excuse herself and suggest she drank standing up, or would that in turn bring unwanted attention?

Reluctantly, Roberta climbed up on top of one of the stools. Immediately, she crossed her legs to avoid embarrassment. It worked to a degree but, whilst avoiding any indecent exposure, the open front of her skirt did splay out, giving a clear view of the top of her stay-ups, as the young guy behind the bar soon noticed.

"What'll it be?" John asked Roberta. "Sex on the beach, or maybe a long comfortable screw?"

"I'd have settled for sex in the car park," Roberta retorted, giving her husband a hard stare.

"Later, my dear. All good things come to those who wait," John responded, his eyes fixed on Roberta's legs and the patch of bare thigh she was showing off. "Now, what about a drink?"

Roberta glanced at the menu, before responding.

"I'd like a White Russian," she replied, smiling, "a big strong White Russian."

"Oh, I bet you would," John quipped, thinking back to the earlier conversation around threesomes. He called the barman over, and moments later drinks were served, alcoholic for Roberta and soft for John.

The fifteen minutes passed without incident, and after her White Russian, Roberta was starting to relax. Other than the odd stare in her direction, there had been nothing more untoward. Roberta was equally careful when climbing down from her stool.

They were shown over to a table tucked away towards one side of the restaurant. It was cosy, it was secluded, and facing into the main restaurant with her back to the wall, Roberta felt comfortable for the first time since they had got there. She could enjoy dinner safe in the knowledge that nobody would see her state of undress. Even if she spread her legs--to be honest Roberta found that sitting there cross legged all evening was a tad on the uncomfortable side--her bare pussy would be hidden from view beneath the tablecloth.

A second waiter, younger and less proficient in his English, came to take their order. John did the ordering, choosing a selection of food to share, along with a large glass of wine for Roberta, and a non-alcoholic beer for himself.

"Cheers," Roberta called out, clinking glasses with her husband.

In that moment, she was happy. The thrill of going around with no knickers on had been exciting, even exhilarating, but now she could relax and enjoy what looked like a first-rate Italian. Sneaking out after would be much easier, and then, as John had promised, there was always later. Imagine Roberta's surprise when later came much sooner than she had thought.

"Now, what was it you were telling me earlier?" John asked.

Roberta looked at him quizzically.

"Something about cumming, was it?" John added.

Roberta's heart missed a beat. Had he really asked that, here, in the middle of a posh restaurant. What did John want by way of a reply? Was he looking for Roberta to admit she had been close to cumming? Surely, he knew that anyway.

"I don't understand," Roberta responded, playing the innocent.

John gave her a mischievous wink, before replying.

"Oh, I think you do. You were so close, and I cruelly interrupted you. So, isn't it only fair I let you finish off the job? I guess there's ten or fifteen minutes before he comes back with the food. Oh, and do tell me all about that fantasy of yours."

"What... no... not here..." Roberta started to protest, her pulse suddenly racing.

They were rhetorical protests. She wanted to be seen to be shocked by the whole idea, but somewhere deep inside she had to admit to being thrilled. Roberta was excited, and scared. The idea of pulling herself off wasn't what made her afraid. That was the exciting part. What scared Roberta was doing it silently. When it came to sex, Roberta never did anything silently. She may have been protesting, but already Roberta was thinking about how to make it happen.

Could Roberta do it?

Could she risk making a scene?

All Roberta could think about was that scene from When Harry Met Sally, the one in the restaurant, the one where she faked her orgasm. Was that the answer? Should Roberta fake an orgasm to keep hubby happy? No... no... he would know... of that, she was sure... and what would he do then?

"Don't deny it, Roberta. I know you want to do it, don't you? Remember though... time's running out," John quipped, his voice calm and considered, as if he had asked nothing more than for his wife to pour the coffee.

Roberta just stared at John. She could feel her heart racing. Was this just a mind game? Would John back down? Why though did she feel so excited at the whole idea?

"I'd get started if I were you," John continued. "Unless..."

"Unless?" Roberta asked.

"I guess you have three choices," John replied.

"Three?" came a confused response.

"Okay, so two if truth be known, but one has two quite different endings. So, you could choose to do nothing, and I'd just have to take care of your disobedience later, or you could get on with it... and if you got on with it, I guess you could get it over with before the waiter gets back or have him watch you cum as he serves the dinner. Your choice, Roberta."

For a moment there was silence.

"I nearly forgot," John added. "A good girl will get her rewards. Now, while you make up your mind, why don't you tell me all about your fantasy, the one you were dreaming about before I cruelly interrupted you."

Roberta waited for John to relent on his ask, but it never came. Her heart was beating quicker than ever. The speed of her breathing had increased as nerves started to take over. She gulped down the remainder of her glass of wine then, in nothing more than a whisper, started to narrate her fantasy... the blindfold... the ropes holding her securely against that table... the hard cock pressing at her sex... the...

Again, Roberta never got to finish off her fantasy. She never got as far as the second cock, stale and salty, nudging at her lips. She never got to realise who... who was with her... who was standing behind her splayed legs... who was standing in front of her blindfolded face. With her eyes closed, Roberta's mind was now consumed by feelings of her own... feelings of fingers up against her sensitive sex... feelings of arousal stirring into life once more.

In no time at all, Roberta could feel the dampness beneath her fingers as she teased at her outer lips, slowly easing them apart. She was breathing faster than normal. She could feel the excitement inside. She bit her lip, to stifle the need to moan, then slid her fingers between her outer labia, and down against her soft slick inner folds. Back and forth, Roberta traced the length of her slit, moving down to rim her opening, before coming back up to toy at her clit. Over and over, Roberta repeated the same, becoming more enthusiastic as her arousal built.

John simply sat there and watched. He couldn't see what his wife was doing beneath the table, but what he could see, said it all. John had noticed the change in Roberta's breathing, the fast shallow movements of her chest, and the glow which had started to appear in her cheeks. He sat there and imagined just how she was working her sex... just how she was following his orders... just how she was being a good girl for him.

It was getting too much. Roberta had dipped a finger up inside, but sat in her chair, even slumped down a little, she couldn't get enough depth to satisfy her needs. There was only one option, and Roberta was already working her clit like there was no tomorrow. Roberta was like the proverbial swan, graceful above the surface, but a hive of activity under the surface of the water, or in her case beneath the tablecloth.

Oh god, Roberta wanted to moan, to call out into the quiet, to share the way she was climbing higher and higher. She knew better though, better than to announce to everyone that an orgasm was rushing quickly in her direction. She loved the idea of being a slut. Being a slut in public gave an added edge, but the real thrill of it all came from keeping it secret. The one thing Roberta didn't get off on was providing a free side-show to all and sundry, especially in a posh joint like this one.

There was only one option. Roberta bit her lip and held her breath. She could feel her fires intensify, and as they did Roberta worked her fingers harder and faster against her clit. She stiffened as a ripple passed over her, but never ceased in her quest to ride the wave and send herself crashing down on the other side. A second stronger ripple followed soon after, and Roberta grabbed hold of the edge of the table with her free hand.

She was so close.

Just a little more.

John knew it too. He could tell from the way his wife was behaving that she was on the edge. He could also see what looked ominously like their dinner being placed on the pass by the open kitchen area.

"I think dinner's coming," John whispered.

Not really listening, Roberta noticed only the last word. She smiled as best she could do and nodded back at her husband. She knew just how close she was. The onset of climax was ravaging her loins, every touch against her clit sending flames of delight off in all directions.

"I mean it, Roberta. I can see the waiter now," John added.

This time Roberta did hear him. She kept going though, rubbing harder, rubbing faster, clenching her muscles in a bid to force herself over the edge. Nothing was going to stop her now.

Roberta stiffened once more, her knuckles whitening as she grasped at the table with her free hand.

Then it happened. She felt the big one hit. For a moment, Roberta shook in her chair as wave after wave of pleasure flooded her body. Roberta gasped. It was a tiny, stifled sound, forced out between clenched lips. Then she was still.

John stared at his wife. He had heard the gasp. He had seen the warm flush on Roberta's face, and the glazed look as she opened her eyes. He had noticed her efforts to curtail the panted breaths.

John smiled. Oh yes, Roberta had definitely impressed. There would be no punishment tonight, but for sure his wife had earned her reward. First though, she had earned her dinner.

"Bruschetta mixta," the waiter announced holding out a small wooden platter.

"We're going to share," John responded.

"Arancini same?" the waiter asked

John nodded.

"Thank you," John replied. "Oh, and would you be able to get us some more drinks... a jug of iced water for the table, and another glass of the white wine for my darling wife."

The waiter glanced from John to Roberta and back again. He could hardly miss her state of exertion, but ever the professional, he said nothing other than to confirm what was being asked of him.

"Of course, sir," the waiter responded. "I'll back bringing the drinks. With pepper also?"

For a moment John was confused. A combination of a strong Italian accent, and broken English, left John not really following the link from drinks to pepper."

"Yes please," Roberta finally answered. "Some black pepper would be lovely."

Roberta glanced at the wondrous plates of food, then back at her husband. If she hadn't already, Roberta was going to enjoy the evening.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dinner had been fantastic, four courses of the most wonderful Italian food you could imagine. It was reward in itself. The restaurant was half empty by the time they were ready to leave. John led the way, with Roberta following on behind. By now she was a little tipsy from the cocktail and two large glasses of wine. She had to keep reminding herself not to get carried away, not to end up showing off what she had so far managed to keep hidden, her state of undress.

As they neared the door, they were met by one of the staff. It wasn't the middle-aged waiter who had welcomed them on arrival. Instead, it was the one who had taken their order and served them dinner.

"Thank you, sir, ma'am," the waiter greeted John and Roberta politely.

"I hope you enjoy... coming soon again," he continued, his broken English quite confusing.

"What?" Roberta asked, her initial reaction not one of amusement. What gave him the right to start commenting about her in this way.

"Sorry, only here one monthes... my English not good," the waiter backtracked, slightly embarrassed at his lack of fluency. "I say... I hope enjoy your dinner... and see you here another time... soon."

Roberta smiled back at the waiter. It was her turn to feel embarrassed. How could she have read so much into an innocent statement. Her response though... well, suffice to say it wasn't exactly innocent.

"Oh yes, I did enjoy cumming," Roberta replied, before adding "...and the food was fantastic as well."

With that, the couple left the restaurant. It was dark outside, with only a single streetlight attempting to illuminate the now quarter-full car park. Roberta wobbled on her heels as she walked across the uneven surface and found herself lagging a little way behind her husband.

John reached the car first. There was a flash of orange lights as he unlocked the doors. Roberta watched as he opened the passenger door.

'Always the gentleman,' Roberta thought to herself, imagining him gallantly holding the door open for her. Imagine her surprise when John proceeded to climb in and sit in the passenger seat.

"What are you doing, John?" Roberta asked, finally catching up. "You know I can't drive."

John smiled but didn't respond.

"I mean it, John. I'm in no fit state to drive after drinking all that wine."

This time there was a response.

"But... my dear... am I asking you to drive?"

It was Roberta's turn to say nothing. What on earth was he playing at, and why was he being so abstruse. If you wanted to drive, then you sat behind the steering wheel. The passenger seat... well, that was for those who wanted to ride.

Oh god!

Surely not!

Surely, he wasn't suggesting she go for a ride... here in the car park!

John smiled back at his wife. He eased the passenger seat backwards, then reclined the back slightly. As he did, he slowly unfastened his belt. If Roberta didn't get the idea now, she never would. John needn't have worried though, Roberta was a very quick learner.

Roberta, finished off what John had started, undoing his trousers then freeing his semi-hard cock from its confines. Crouching down, with a combination of hands and mouth, she took good care of his limpness. It was Roberta's turn to smile at her husband, as she climbed on top, and closed the passenger door behind her.

The car park was quiet once more. The only movement was coming from a Jaguar SUV tucked away in the shadows. For no obvious reason, it rocked slightly on its shock absorbers. If you bothered to take a closer look, you might have seen the cause, or even heard the effect.

Yes, Roberta had earned her reward, and there was no refrain in the way she went about enjoying it. This was the sort of ride she enjoyed most of all.

To Be Continued