by Lily Angelo
He pretended he was trying to get a closer look at my nails, pulling my hand closer to his face. His grasp was slow and seductive as he wedged his fingers between mine. He held my hand for a few seconds before bringing the tip of my index finger to his lips and giving it a soft, sensual kiss. Our eyes met when my finger touched his lips and time seemed to have stood still. The roar of the restaurant faded; it was like we were the only two people in existence. We were pulled out of our trance when the waiter brought the check. August slipped the waiter his credit card and looked down at his watch.
“We better get going. The movie starts in about 15 minutes. The theatre’s only two blocks away; it’s nice outside and I thought we could take a stroll.”
“Sure, that sounds like a plan.”
He signed the credit card receipt and I grabbed my bag. We left the restaurant and had a leisurely walk passed the park on our way to the movies. We stopped at a park bench so I could adjust the strap on my sandal. August sat next to me, lifted my chin and led my lips to his. His lips were moist and plump and he tasted like the vanilla ice cream we’d shared at the restaurant. The way he coiled his tongue inside my mouth excited me. If he kissed my upper lips like that, he had to be able to do the same thing to my lower lips as well. It was the perfect first kiss: soft, passionate, and we had a mouth-to-mouth synergy that left me wanted more. He rested against the bench and smiled.
“You taste as good as you look.”
I lowered my head and blushed, “Thanks.”
We got our tickets and our popcorn and proceeded to the middle of the upper row. It was only 2:30 p.m., so we were the only patrons. August lifted the armrest that separated us and snuggled next to me. About 30 minutes into the movie, I started to feel his hand rub the area below my collar bone, but above my boob. I didn’t resist as he worked his way lower, massaging my beckoning nipple. I put my hand on his thigh and leaned in to sample his lips again. I licked and sucked his lips and flicked my tongue against his. He put his hand between my legs, wiggling his fingers and stimulating my clit through the rough texture of my denim. August took my hand and rubbed it back and forth over his bulge. From what I felt, he definitely wasn’t going to disappoint. I pressed my palm over it firmly and pressed his hard cock between his leg and my hand.
“Take your pants off and stand in front me,” August whispered.
“But what if someone walks in?” I contested.
“Don’t worry, they won’t.”
I didn’t know how he could be so sure we wouldn’t get caught, but I was so turned on that it didn’t matter to me anymore. I threw caution to the wind, and told myself the same old line whenever I wanted to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, “You only live once, so live.” I stood directly in front of him, but with my back turned. I unbuttoned my jeans and slowly bent over sliding them off my feet. I usually didn’t wear undergarments in the summer and I was glad I didn’t for such an occasion. I wanted to give August a thorough view of my round, robust ass. I stayed bent over in front of him with my hands clinching the seat in front of me. I swayed my ass from side to side as if I were charming a snake. I took a peek over my shoulder and watched as he unleashed his iron rod from his pants. He stroked his massive cock with one hand and rubbed my ass with the other. Then he grabbed me by my hips and pulled my ass to his tongue. He kissed along the edges of my crack before inserting his rigid tongue between my ass cheeks. He massaged my fleshy rump while slurping up and down my anus. After he was finished with my backside, he turned me around so he could tend to the front. He crouched in his chair and hooked my leg over his shoulder. The way he used his tongue to glide across my pussy was incredible. I let him know he was doing an excellent job by driving his head deeper into my pink paradise and riding his tongue. I could feel my pressure starting to mount and I rocked harder against his face. My orgasm was triumphant as stood there convulsing in heaps of pleasure. After I came, August turned me back around and put me in a standing doggy-style position. My warm, slick vagina welcomed his stout pole, smacking and splashing as he entered me. Thankfully, no one else had come into the theatre and I was free to scream as loud as I wanted. He fucked me harder and harder, like he was trying to punish me. It was painful, but in a good way. He put his hands on my shoulders and rammed himself into me like a charging bull. Moaning, grunting, yells, and slaps drowned the sounds of the movie as August continued to pound me. He reached around to massage my clit while keeping the same tempo. My body shook uncontrollably as I burst into another orgasm. It must have been a chain reaction because August soon followed. We both collapsed back into the theatre chairs happy and satisfied.
I leaned over to August, “I thought we came to see a movie.”
“We can come back and see the parts we missed tomorrow if you want to. I’ll take a round with you over a movie any day,” August said kissing my cheek.
We put our clothes back on and watched what was left of the movie.
When the movie ended, August took my hand and said, “Let me show you something.” He guided me to a supply room in the rear of the building. There was a hidden door in the supply room that led to a flight of stairs. I resisted and pulled my hand from his grasp as he tried to lure me up the stairs.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to go up there. We’ve already gotten away with indecent exposure. I don’t want to press my luck.”
“Trust me, everything is fine. Just follow me,” reaching out for my hand again.
I raised my eyebrow in suspicion, but decided to go along with the adventure. When we reached the top of the stairs, he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door facing us. I gave him a puzzled look that said, Ok, you need to give me an explanation.
He prodded me through the door saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
When the lights came on, a spacious apartment was revealed. He walked over to a projector and a screen descended from the ceiling. The video that started playing was our sexual exploit we’d just had inside the theatre. I stood there in shock.
He came up behind me and said, “My family owns a chain of cinemas across the country. That’s why I wasn’t worried about anyone interrupting our movie date. I told the staff not to let anyone enter because I was bringing you,” kissing me on the back of my neck and ear.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you!” Nodding my head, but still hypnotized by the images of us sexing on the screen.
“I hope you’re not upset, but I had to have you on camera, Beautiful.”
I tilted my head to give him more room to nibble my neck. He took his hands under my shirt and massaged my breasts. He brought me further into the apartment and laid me back on the couch. August showered me in kisses before getting up to retrieve something from another room. He came back with a camcorder and set it up in front of the couch where I was laying.
He resumed his position on top of me and said, “Now where were we?....”
Paris
My boyfriend and I had been together for almost four years now. It was May 13th and our four year anniversary was going to be May 28th. He was the head chef at Bon Apetit--a blossoming French-American restaurant in downtown Charlotte, NC. He had traveled to France and Italy for several years studying the culinary arts during his early 20s. We were high school sweet hearts, but I was a year older and had to leave him behind when I left for college. At that time, I went to UNC-Greensboro and he was planning to study abroad. He said he wanted his French cooking to be authentic and that he would never be able to find that here in the states. We were in love, but too young to sustain a serious long distance relationship. We both needed time to grow up and experience life apart from one another.
Four years ago we bumped into each other at Taste of Charlotte, an annual outdoor food festival held in downtown Charlotte by local restaurants. I was sampling a few mini-pastries at a booth for Sweet Stuff, a new bakery I drove by on my way to work each day but never actually found the time to stop in and test the goods. I was dipping my finger into the
cream cheese icing of a cupcake when I heard, “I hope that cupcake tastes as good as you make it look.” When I looked up, it was my sweetie Jacob, looking better than ever. Sparks flew as we hugged and gazed at each other for the first time in over seven years. He walked me over to his booth and told me how he was busting his hump trying to get the head chef position. He explained how he was the most qualified to fill the position because of his skills and extensive experience working with French food. The current head chef, Phillip, was going back to Paris to open his own eatery and fully supported the idea of letting Jacob take the reins in two months. The festival was bustling with ravenous taste-testers and Jacob had to hold down the fort for passing patrons. We swapped numbers and made a date for me to come to Bon Apetit the following evening.
I got there at about 10:45 p.m., just before closing. He had to work all day and convinced me to accept such a late date by saying that we’d have the whole restaurant to ourselves and that he’d prepare something especially for me if I accepted his after-hours dinner invitation. I arrived to soft, romantic music and burning candles placed sparingly on tabletops. He took my hand and escorted me to a table with a vase of long-stem white roses placed in the center. I was impressed that he’d remembered that those were my favorite; he used to get them for me on Valentine’s Day and birthdays back in high school.
“Wow, I guess the French taught you a thing or two, huh?”
“I picked up a few things here and there.”
He pulled my chair out and kissed me on the cheek as I sat down. Then poured me a glass of wine and hustled back to the kitchen saying he’d be right back, he just had to check on the food. He fixed a five-course meal that got better with each bite. We spent the night laughing and catching up until it got to be around 4 a.m. He was a gentlemen the whole night and didn’t do anything more than hold my hand from across the table as we talked. Everything felt so right that night, or at least it did to me. I was hoping he felt the same way. I checked the time on my phone that was sitting on the table and told him it was time for me to head home. He walked me to the car, looked me in my eyes, and asked if we could get together again the next day. Before I was able to give him an answer, he took me in his arms and planted a kiss on me that was so deep and passionate it felt like he’d been saving it for the last seven years. I never told him, but in that instant, I saw our lives flash before my eyes: our wedding day, children, spending holidays together. From that point on, I knew he was the one for me, and we never spent a day apart since. The first few months I played a somewhat hard-to-get making sure he was the one to confess his feelings first. Over the years, we kept our separate apartments, but always spent each night together. Usually at my place, since it was too much of a hassle to lug my art supplies back and forth between our apartments.
Jacob and Phillip maintained their friendship throughout the years, after Phillip moved back to Paris. They routinely e-mailed about events going on in the food world and the happenings of their personal lives. Phillip built a thriving, yet quaint restaurant on the outskirts of Paris. He often posted pictures of new dishes and his customers enjoying them on his website. Phillip’s place was even mentioned on the Travel Channel as one of Paris’ must-eat restaurants. Early during the year Phillip invited Jacob and me to come to Paris for his wedding in mid-May. The wedding was scheduled to take place two weeks before our four year anniversary so we decided to make the Parisian trip our celebration. Jacob and I were extremely happy together, but neither of us ever brought up marriage; though he constantly assured me of his love and commitment to our relationship. Getting hurt in previous relationships had conditioned me to never talk about love and definitely not marriage before the man. My religious upbringing kept marriage in the corner of my mind but the modern woman in me kept saying,” it’s just a piece of paper, and no piece of paper or piece of jewelry was going to make Jacob love me any more or any less”. Jacob didn’t have any hang-ups about marriage; he just said it’ll happen when the time is right. Jacob was funny, romantic, intelligent, generous, and my best friend. He left cute notes and text messages, gave me nightly foot massages, surprised me with fresh bouquets of white roses and weekend getaways, plus I loved the way he spoke French when we made love. He took care of me in a way that no other man had done before and always made sure I felt secure in our relationship. He was the closest thing to a perfect man that I’d ever seen. The old saying goes, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Our relationship was far from broken, and I wasn’t going to try and fix it by shoving marriage down Jacob’s throat.
It was the day of the flight; my bags were packed and sitting by the door. I was waiting for Jacob to pick me up so we could head to the airport. I was anxious and excited, pacing around the apartment trying to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything: passports-check, comfortable shoes and underwear-check, camera-check. I was primed up and ready for my big week in Paris with my man. I was checking the bathroom drawer, making sure I’d packed the perfume Jacob got for me when I heard the phone ring. I prayed that it was anyone but Jacob calling—I knew that if it was Jacob, he could only be calling to tell me that something had gone wrong with our plans. I scrambled to the phone to see MY BABY show up on the caller ID.
“Hey Babe, please tell me you’re about to pull up,” I pleaded nervously.
“Well, I have bad news with a good twist,” Jacob said light heartedly. “There’s been a small fire here at the restaurant and I need to stay a little while longer to speak with the Fire Department and insurance people.”
“What about Steven? He can cover for you so we won’t miss our flight.” I cried frantically.
“I know. He’s supposed to be here by now, but his daughter was sick and he had to pick her up from school. He’s on his way; he should be here any minute. I already called the airline so I can take a later flight. I’m only going to be a few hours behind you Baby. You should arrive in Paris at 8 p.m. and I’ll be there by midnight.”
“Why didn’t you reschedule my flight too? I don’t wanna fly that far alone and my French sucks. You were supposed to be my translator.”
“Because I know it’s your first time visiting Paris and I don’t want you to miss out on anything. Phillip and his bride-to-be are throwing a party at his restaurant tonight and I want you to go. I already spoke with Phillip; he’s going to pick you up from the airport and drive you to the hotel. I know you’ll probably want to freshen up before the party, so he’ll come back and pick you up after you get dressed. Trust me, everything is going to be okay. I called a cab to drive you to the airport; they should be there by now. I love you and I’ll meet you in Paris okay?....”
“Okay.” I’m sure he could hear the disappointment in my voice.
“I think I left a few muscle relaxers there from my back injury. Take one when you board the plane, and you’ll wake up ready to rumba in Paris. I love you and I’ll be there soon. I gotta go baby.... love you.”
“I love you too. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I was just looking forward to being with you. I think that’s my cab blowing outside. Love you Babe. Guess I’ll see you when you get there.”
“You will, sooner than you think. Love you, bye.”
“Bye.”
I stepped out on the balcony to wave to the cab driver, letting him know I was on my way down. I was a little sad riding to the airport by myself, but the thought of finally getting to see The Eiffle Tower lifted my spirits. Going to Paris was something I’d wanted to do since I was a little girl. I took the muscle relaxer as soon as I could get the stuartist to bring me some water. Before I knew it, the plane was landing in Paris. Phillip was waiting for me with a big smile and big sign that read, “Jacob’s Girl.” He gave me a warm welcome and let me know how great it was to see me. I could smell a faint hint of wine on his breath as he talked on our way to the car. He practically made a declaration that I was going to have the time of my life in Paris, staggering just a bit with the added weight of my bags. Even though he was a little drunk, I
always liked Phillip’s jubilant personality. He was one those people that could light up the room with his presence. He approached a limo, and he and the driver put my luggage in the trunk. “Thank God!” I thought to myself, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to drive us to the hotel, since Phillip clearly had drank a few glasses of wine. Phillip’s fiancé was sitting in the limo when I got in.
Phillip introduced us, “Lily this is Kira. Kira, Lily.”
“Bon jour,” I reached out my hand to her.
“Bon Jour. Phillip has told me so much about you and Jacob; it’s so adorable how the two of you reunited. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” Kira said in an amiable French accent.
Kira was even more beautiful in person than the photos I’d seen online. She had flawless fair skin, long, black hair that stretched to her derriere and full, pouty lips that seemed to have a natural crimson tint to them.
I couldn’t stop looking out the window as we drove into the city. It was dusk and the city seemed to be coming alive. The lights and architecture had me mesmerized; it felt like a dream. The only thing missing was Jacob. I couldn’t wait for him to get there so we could share the experience together. Phillip and the bellhop escorted me inside the hotel.
“Hurry, go upstairs and make yourself even more beautiful, and call the restaurant when you’re ready. We’ll send the driver back to pick you up.” Phillip pecked me on the cheek and cheerfully hopped back in the limo with Kira.
I checked in and tipped the bellhop at the entrance of our suite. The room had an Old World European charm to it: lush fabrics, rich colors, and impressionist paintings adorned the silk-lined walls. There were candles lit, champagne chilling in a bucket of ice, and a sinful platter of chocolate covered strawberries sitting on a table by the balcony. They looked so tempting; I had to try one. As I approached the table, I saw a note laying next the tray of strawberries.