A Prescription for…Spoons?

The plates had been removed, with new warm presentation plates in their place. She noticed the steak knives and a large flat spoon was added to the place-settings. She sipped her bourbon and opened her legs for him, even though it was more a symbolic gesture as he could no longer reach her exposed sex.

"Too bad," he smiled, sipping the wine and looking at her profile. "I was so enjoying getting you wet...I'll have to give this some thought."

The change in the dynamic didn't seem to faze him whatsoever. It was like an improv artist she had seen a couple of years ago at the student union. No matter what the subject, even hecklers, the guy just shifted gears with the crowd. So too with him, tonight. As she began to play into his fantasy of her as his whore, she worked her way into the role.

Acting had never been one of her strong interests, even though she always seemed to take one theatrical arts course each semester. She just couldn't let go of herself enough to be a convincing role on stage. Tonight, though, tonight was different. It wasn't so much a role as it was a shift in her attitude, a kind of posture - elevating one side of her that she had always played with but never 'acted out.'

The next course arrived - a thinly sliced steak nestled in a vegetable puree/broth thing. She'd never seen anything like it and didn't have the words for it. She delayed putting down her drink hoping to see how he would eat it when she realized he was waiting for her. Embarrassed, she reached for her fork and knife.

"Hold it," he said quietly, watching her intently. He picked up his flat spoon and pressed it gently into the pepper puree. "Stick out your tongue." The flavors from the puree were astounding, and she lapped the liquid off the back of the spoon. He held it in front of her. "Do me another favor, if you could, Laura. As gently as you can, please insert this into you so that it won't slip out."

She looked at his eyes and again saw nothing but sincere desire. She smiled a little and reached down under the table cloth to fiddle with the paddle-like spoon. It was cool to her lips, and while it wasn't hard to push it in, she wasn't as lubricated as she had been only a few minutes before. The utensil was heavy, she assumed it was silver, and she was worried it would fall out, so she pushed it in as deeply as she dared, until the handle was half-way out. Even then, it drooped against the leather seat front, pushing up against her insides.

He was calling the waiter over even as she quickly finished.

"Sorry, I seem to have misplaced the spoon. Could you bring another."

She covered her blush by picking up her now finished drink.

Before the waiter had turned away, he asked her if she wanted something else to drink and she demurred. "Water will be fine."

Her hunger was returning and now her need for him had overtaken any shyness. As she ate the steak and sopped up the puree with glorious bread, she wondered what was really in store for her. Would he just take her home and kiss her good night at the door? Unlikely. She chewed the meat carefully, tasting the delicate spices and texture. Would he ask her to debase herself in some way? 'I suppose it depends on what you mean by debase,' her inner voice questioned. 'Well,' she continued, 'how about him taking me home, letting me open the apartment door, and then before I even have finished closing it, stripping me naked? 'Eh,' the voice commented, 'that's not debasement, that's almost romantic.''Besides,' she continued parenthetically, 'it wouldn't take much to get me naked...'

Her self-dialog was interrupted as he touched her hand again. His fingers danced lightly over her knuckles, tickling the webbing between her ring finger and her third finger. She looked up at him as he was finishing a bite.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Uhhh, nothing much really. Just trying to put the whole evening together. I, uhnnh, I've never had a date quite like this before."

"Is it uncomfortable for you?"

"No! Not at all." She realized she answered a little too forcefully and too quickly. "That's what's a little confusing. Not to be too analytical about it, you know, what with a soup spoon stuck up inside me and stripped bare beneath this sheath. It's just a little confusing, and I was wondering where it would lead."

"I can appreciate that," he nodded, taking another mouthful. After he had swallowed, he turned to her. "Where would you like it to lead?"

The images of her stripped bare, just inside her apartment door, on her knees, unzipping him and taking him into her mouth sent a jolt up her spine. Her eyebrows raised and she looked at him with an inspired idea. She quickly narrowed her eyes, casting as sultry a look as she could fashion without completely bursting out laughing.

"You're making me feel like a slut," she confessed, keeping her voice soft.

"Hmmmm, you think so? How?" His fingers continued their dance, sending tinglings up her arm.

"Really. You think it's pretty normal to have your date stripped naked next to you with eating utensils shoved up her privates?" She asked it with a smile, the spoon handle bobbing as she shifted slightly.

The waiter returned with a second spoon, presented on a folded napkin. He placed it next to Gareth's plate.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to the waiter and picking up the spoon. Even as the waiter was turning and walking away, Gareth presented the spoon to her, his expectations needing no additional explanation.

She hesitated, knowing what he wanted but not knowing if she could go through with it. Would another spoon fit in her? How much flatware would he want inside her? What kind of perversion, okay, not perversion, but what then, was this?

She took the spoon and quickly moved her hand below the table. Once again the paddle was cold to her lips, but it slipped in a little easier, following the path of the other. With the neck pushed in, even with the first, she gently turned it and let it go. It made a soft clink as the handles touched. She returned her hand to her own fork and made a pretense of eating.

"So," he pressed on. "I'm making you feel like a slut. I'm interested in what that feels like. How do you feel like a slut?"

She focused on her breathing. The two spoons were distracting, as was her nudity, in spite of the black dress. The images of him spreading her wide and fucking her hard came unasked into her head. She shifted again, the spoon handles threatened to fall out.

"What 'nice' girl strips naked for her date in a fancy restaurant? Let's start with that?" She challenged him as best she could.

"That's not a feeling," he pressed on.

She breathed. "Okay, I feel...exposed. Exposed and...a little confused...and..." She couldn't say, turned on, but it was true.

"Tell me about the spoons." It was as if he was asking about her most recent shopping trip to the mall.

"I...I don't know why I'm doing this...why would I put eating utensils inside me?"

"How does it make you feel?"

"Naughty. Very naughty," she seemed to have found release. Her shoulders relaxed and she exhaled. "And naughty means I'm acting like a slut. Everyone can see I'm not wearing a bra, and I'm sure the waiters are wondering what's happening to the spoons. It's a veritable 'Bermuda Triangle' for spoons over here." She said it with a laugh, reaching for her water, and again feeling the silver handles shift. She squeezed the parts inside her and felt them move against her clit.

"'Laura's Triangle' is more like it. And I'm sure it will be a delightful triangle to explore."

The image again of her stripped naked, now for his inspection, her patch of pubic hair, not very triangular in her opinion, the focus of his attention. She crossed her legs. The spoons crossed over each other, their edges pinching her uncomfortably. She uncrossed her legs, keeping them closed.

She didn't quite know where to put her hands. Her left was holding the fork, but she wasn't interested in eating at the moment. Her right was in the air, its elbow resting on the table top. She put them both down, on either side of her plate and looked back at him. He had finished his food and was sipping his wine, looking at her with those gorgeous eyes. There was a crinkle to his forehead that she took to mean 'sardonic amusement' or more kindly 'what would you like?'

Either way, he was leaving the next move up to her.

At a practical level, she knew she would be hungry later, and under almost any other circumstance she would be scarfing up the food, it was so delicious. But at this point, she had lost her appetite. "I think I'm ready to leave." Again she said it softly, hopefully with a little sultry tone.

He called the waiter over and asked for the bill and for her leftovers to be wrapped to go. She was a little embarrassed at the thought that she was taking a doggy bag out of such a fancy restaurant, but she appreciated him thinking of her.

As he signed the bill, she gathered her purse and considered how she was going to extract the spoons. Again, she didn't know quite what to do with her hands.

He looked up at her obvious confusion. "Your wondering about the spoons. I'd like you to try and keep them in as we leave." He turned his attention back to the bill.

She blushed at the thought. How could she make it across the floor without them dropping out of her. It was absurd! There was no way. She could see herself squeezing her thighs together to keep them in, making her look like some kind of geisha. She laughed at the silliness of it.

He looked up again. "Really. I think you can do it."

She shook her head. "No way. There's no way. These things are heavy. I can barely keep them in just sitting here."

"Tell you what. I'll get up and 'cover' for you. You shift over and stand up. If they slip out, just let them drop to the floor and that will be that."

She thought he was crazy, and she was beginning to think she was even crazier for listening to him. As she shifted over, the sound of the handles clinking was so loud she was sure everyone could hear them. He offered his hand and gently pulled her up. The spoons shifted down, but the two of them together widened out and were stuck inside, the handles pressed against the inside of her thighs.

"How're they hanging?" He asked conspiratorially, reaching for her purse and the foil swan of leftovers.

She laughed at the locker-room greeting. The thought of walking across the floor, next to other diners was overwhelming.

"Ready?" He offered her his arm and began to move.

She walked with him, slowly at first, making sure the spoons weren't moving out of her. They were moving with each step, but they seemed to move up and down, back and forth, side to side. Miraculously, they didn't seem to be working their way out. Still, she felt like she was walking like a two-year old who had to go pee. She tried to walk more naturally. They were now too far from the table to cover up a dropped spoon. Her more natural stride, still not unconstrained, but at least more like her usual pace, brought them next to the first neighboring table. She smiled at him, trying to look natural, but feeling completely exposed and terrified.

They made it to the door, where he reclaimed his coat and her shawl, and then they were outside. The spoons weren't going anywhere while they waited for the valet, so she rested against him, thinking about what lay in store for the rest of the evening.

Navigating into the car was equally nerve racking. How to sit with the valet holding the door and not expose the silverware. Using her shawl as a shield with one hand, she used the other to feign shifting her hem out of the way, keeping the handles in hand while she twisted into the seat. She breathed a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut and closed her eyes.

With the top down the wind blew her hair and into her dress lifting it away from her breasts and teasing her nipples. The breeze made it down between her legs tickling her and making her feel even more self-conscious - if that were possible.

"You enjoying the flatware?" He looked at her with a smile.

She smiled and licked her lips tasting the seasoning from the steak.

"You play the whore quite nicely. I'm really enjoying you getting into the spirit of the thing. Would you do me a huge favor..."

Her phone rang, interrupting him. She didn't want to know what the next favor was; whatever it was, she knew she would do it and the thought of driving around the city naked, her most likely image of his next request, scared her.

"Hey. It's great. La Raku. Fantastic." She looked over at him, blowing him a kiss. "Um...he's taking me to his place." She giggled, raising her eyebrows at him and flashing her bush with her free hand. The silverware briefly glinted out of the corner of her eye. "Oh stop. He's not a mass-murderer. He's really sweet!" More eyebrows and her hand traced an exaggerated circle around her nipple, teasing him. "Listen, call me tomorrow, I'll fill you in. Keywords: prostitutes and silverware." She hung up, looking at him all the while.

"Silver looks good in you."

His words emboldened her further. She spread her legs to show him a little more. The handles clinked softly.

She reached over and lightly brushed the placket of his trousers. Feeling his erection beginning to swell, she pushed down on it. As she released the pressure, it pushed up further, beginning to fill the normally empty fold. She licked her lips again and considered her next move.

She had never given head in a car. She had read it was dangerous, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She reached her other hand to undo his zipper and pushed it inside, brushing across his increasingly stiffening penis. Snaking her fingers into his boxers, she pulled it free, sliding her thumb across its head.

Wriggling out of the shoulder strap, she leaned over and gently blew on the hole before darting her tongue out to lick it. Slowly, building her saliva for lubrication, she slid her mouth down his shaft.Just don't cause an accident,she thought,you don't have any underwear on.

****

She sensed they were approaching his house without seeing it. He had slowed down, stopping every once in a while and making turns. The sound of trees overhead, shhshhing in the wind and a distinct change in temperature told her they were somewhere near the river. As he drove up the driveway, she could hear the garage door opening and decided to sit up, leaving his erection glistening from her spit waving up at her. She smiled, thankful he hadn't come yet. The thought he would spray all over his pants upset her and she had never swallowed before.

She caught a glimpse of the house just before they entered the garage. It was large. Looking back over her shoulder she could see several other large older homes, set back from the street in an arbored neighborhood.Cornwall, or maybe Grant,she figured, having taking a walking tour of the inner neighborhoods as part of a local history class.

"Would you like another drink?" He set down his keys in a tray by the back door, after helping her up the few stairs from the garage. The spoons were stuck to her, glued to her outer lips during the trip over in spite of her stimulation from giving him head. They clinked as she walked; she giggled.

"Ummm....are you having one?" She didn't want to drink alone, but she thought she needed a little social lubricant to keep up the act. She felt every inch the whore, walking through his house with only her dress and heels on, the spoons a constant reminder of what she had agreed to do for him.

"You bet. Bourbon and seven. Never mix, never sorry." He flipped on a light as they entered a formal dining room. He moved to an antique bar, taking out glasses and bottles. "You can grab some ice from the fridge, if you don't mind."

The kitchen was a mixture of old fashioned cabinets and bright, brushed appliances. A large butcher block island occupied the center, immaculate and clear of any clutter save a couple of pieces of mail. She found a bowl in a cupboard, filled it with ice and joined him at the bar.

"So, what did you think you were in for tonight?" He filled their glasses and turned to offer hers.

She wanted to tell him her fantasy of him taking her right there, of her kneeling down and making him come in her mouth, of a dozen other images in which she was ravaged; all perfectly consistent with spoons in her slit and her acting the whore. But she didn't feel right tellinghim. Better it just happened. She sipped her drink to buy time, the liquor burning a warm trail down her throat.

"What did you want to do tome?" She asked, her eyes quickly looking down from his face into her drink, her tongue licking the drops from her lips.

He set down his drink and reached over to her, embracing her tightly against him. His hands pulled on her ass cheeks; she could feel his erection, bent over and pushing against her pubis, even through the two layers of material. His fingers curled under the hem and he lifted the dress up, sliding it between them and forcing her to lift her arms as he whisked it up past her chest. She felt a little dribble of liquid from the glass; she focused on it to keep it from spilling, even as he stripped her bare in the dining room. She extracted her arm with the drink from the loop of the dress and stood in front of him in her black heels, the spoons clinking between her legs.

He kissed her, deeply, inhaling even as he probed her mouth with his tongue. She melted against him, the fabric of his shirt and pants rubbing against her bare skin.

"Wait," he said, pulling away from her. She felt the glow deepen and settle. "I have a better idea."

He stepped back from her, leaning against the bar and pushed her gently backwards so that the curve of her ass lightly touched the table.

"What's that, Laura? You have an appointment? Let me check his book." He looked down at an imaginary appointment book in his palms, scanning with his index finger. "Ahh, yes, 9:30. No problem. Let's get you set up in exam room three."

She was surprised and confused by his sudden change of character. Looking at her face he smiled gently, as if a kindly nurse and, taking her by the elbows, walked her around the dining room table, her heels clicking on the wood floor. She had left her drink back at the bar and as they came full circle near it she hoped he would stop to let her take a drink.

"No, my dear, the doctor will need to examine you before he can prescribe any medicine. Just sit up here. He'll be in you in a moment."

The play on words wasn't lost on her and she meekly followed his lead, boosting herself up on the wood table, its waxy surface cool against her bottom. He leaned down and lifted her heels wriggling her backwards until the inside of her knees touched the table edge.

"Now, what were your symptoms?" He looked up at her, waiting.

"Ummm, there's a fullness...down there...and I'm not sure what it is..." She answered self-consciously, vaguely pointing to her groin.

"Down there? In your vagina? Any trouble urinating, bowel movements okay?" As he asked, he gently stroked her upper arms, squeezing gently and pretending to make notes. He stopped briefly to remove her shoes, rubbing her feet. The feeling was glorious, sending sparks up her legs as he gently massaged her instep and arch.

She didn't know how to answer these personal questions. In the scene it would make sense, but she couldn't think of any answers that would work. "Uhhh, yeah, everything works fine. I just feel kind of stuffed."

"Okay, Laura, the doctor will be coming any minute." He leaned over to her, whispering these last words in her ear and began gently sucking on her earlobe. With his hands, he guidedherhands behind her hips, her fingers facing away from her, her elbows locked. In this position she was leaning slightly backwards, her belly tensed, her crotch exposed.