Dinner in the French Quarter

The French Quarter restaurant is over 100 years old and very popular, but was almost empty, something unheard of on a Friday night in the spring. It wouldn't have mattered to the couple sitting at the small table towards the back of the small dining room off the back hall; they only had eyes for each other, be damned who else was in the place. Even though both were in their late 30s, the sparkle in their eyes when they were together made them feel like teenagers.

The wait staff at Tujague's Restaurant was used to couples such as these, and knew exactly how to handle serving them: stay the heck out of their way as much as possible. The sexual energy from the two of them was so strong that it became almost a barrier in any case, an almost visible "keep out" signal that enveloped the table. To the naked eye, however, they appeared to be just another couple out on the town; this lady was no tramp, and her escort knew that. The non-verbal communication between them, on the other hand, was in language that would get a Hollywood film rated NC-17 in a heartbeat.

The waiter had just removed the appetizer dishes as the couple nibbled absent-mindedly on the French bread still on the table. She was taller than him by an inch or two, with long, graceful legs that were finally getting dark enough that she felt comfortable going out in a short dress without hose. The long white tablecloth draped her legs completely, much to the disappointment of the busboy, who got an eyeful of her in her fire-engine red sun dress. Her companion was also dressed casually, in the old New Orleans style: chinos, white cotton dress shirt, open at the collar, and navy blazer.

Dinner progressed normally, the couple sharing small talk, but their eyes were plotting an evening of carnal exploration that was driving both of them wild. At one point while she was cutting into her steak, he slipped off his shoe and ran his bare foot up her leg, going up her thigh as far as he could without making it obvious what he was up to. The sensation of skin on skin sent a mild electric shock through her spine; she shuddered, reaching for her glass of wine. By the time he had done this three or four times to her, they were ready for their second bottle of California Merlot, and she was ready for a bit of revenge. Sliding her foot out of her shiny black sandal, her toes moving slowly up his leg, she grinned evilly.

He was visibly squirming by the third pass, as she moved her foot into his crotch and began to enjoy the feeling of his cock swelling under her toes. Stifling a moan, he was now reaching for the wine to calm his nerves. She smiled angelically at him, as if she was simply a high school girl on her first date. She was the total picture of innocence while she caressed his cock, almost to the point of exploding. She was no fool, this one—she knew just when to stop and run her foot back down to his ankle, leaving him shuddering and wanting more. With a look vowing complete revenge, he smiled as the waiter came to pour more wine for the both of them.

The rest of the meal consisted of this back-and-forth play between them, both physically and psychically. He paid the check and left a generous tip for the excellent non-service, and they headed out through the main dining room to the front door. He made her walk first, so he could trace the outline of her small panties through the back of the dress. His preoccupation with her ass was a running joke between them. She swayed her hips a bit, knowing he'd enjoy it, hoping his bulge would embarrass him a bit as he walked out. One male customer at another table also took notice as she walked out, much to the chagrin of his female dinner partner.

The hot, humid air hit both of them as the door opened onto Decatur Street. The sounds of the Quarter at night were lost on both of them as he took her hand and led her around the corner from the restaurant, onto one of the dark north-south streets. They walked a slow pace down about half a block, his hand running slowly up and down her back, all the way up to her neck, then down her thigh, brushing her panties under the dress as his hand rode back up on the return trip. She shivered, her usual reaction to his touch. When they first met, he was a bit put off by her reactions, until he discovered that those reactions were just a very tight harness on an extremely passionate soul. It was just a matter of doing little things to loosen her up as they went along. Like stopping in the middle of the block, pushing her up against the wall, and kissing her deeply, tongue exploring her entire mouth…hands running down her back…cupping her ass gently…fingers running down the backs of her thighs, rounding them on the outside, then back up the inner thighs, just fluttering up along the front of her tiny black bikini panties. He slid his tongue back to her ear and applied just a little bit of pressure to her mound, his mouth moving back to hers to quickly stifle the gasp leaving her lips. His hands slowly made their way to her breasts, just flicking her nipples, then her neck, then holding her face in-between them. Breaking the kiss, but not the eye contact, his hands slowly sliding down the front of her dress, open palms lightly brushing her nipples, feeling them stiffen under his touch. He allowed her to gasp this time, then pulled her to him in a hug. Taking her hand in his, he led her further down the block, then around the corner, stopping in front of a wrought-iron gate on Royal Street.

Reaching into his pocket for a set of keys, he unlocked the gate and led her down the access way, into the central courtyard of the Spanish-style house. The house, typical for the Vieux Carre', belonged to a friend of theirs, who was out of the country for several months, and he was house-sitting. The courtyard was not very large, and the combination of the humid night air and the leaves of the tree and hanging plants compressed the space even more. He led her over to the fountain in the corner, the slow rhythm of the dripping water relaxing her. Sitting her down on the edge of the fountain, he stood behind her, lightly rubbing her shoulders and kissing her neck. Softly responding, she turned and kissed him, stretching out her arms to pull him to her. Sitting down next to her, he immediately ran his hand up under her dress, once again finding her black panties. Kissing her deeply, he slid her panties aside…tightly-harnessed her emotions may be, her body was giving the lie to that control as his fingers felt her dampness. Lightly probing her slit at first, but she crossed her legs, forcing him to withdraw his hand. Her legs gleamed in the moonlight, the short red dress a stimulating complement to her silky thighs. Not one for shoes, she flicked the sandal on her outstretched leg out into the courtyard and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck.

It was his turn to gasp, because she rarely initiated this kind of contact so early in the evening. Keeping her emotions in check was an art form, and the opera had not progressed into the part where hers were to come to center stage. Startled, he kissed her again, pulling her close, hands running up and down her bare arms, then to the back of her dress, tugging down the zipper all the way. Slipping the dress off of her, letting it slide to her waist, she shivered as her breasts greeted the night air, her nipples erect and begging for attention. Pulling her bottom lip into his mouth, his hand found first the left, then her right nipple, gently…then a bit more firmly…but no pain…just ecstasy. Looking each other in the eyes until she broke the contact and buried her head in his shoulder, biting him gently…reaching to unbutton his shirt and run her fingernails down his chest. He sighed audibly and sucked hard on her neck as his hands cupped her breasts, then ran around to hold her to him tightly.

The fire springing from her nipples moved lower and she slowly uncrossed her legs, sliding off the other sandal and swinging her leg around to dangle it into the cool water of the fountain. Smiling softly at him, she dampened her foot and ran her wet toes over his bare chest, gently, then turned around so her bare back rested against his chest. He began twirling her hair gently, then his hands instinctively went back to her nipples, then lower. Slipping his hands down her thighs, they came back up under the dress and went straight to her crotch. No crossed legs this time; on the contrary, she gracefully parted her legs as he slipped his fingers under her panties and began to softly stroke her clit. Gently at first, his movement stirred her and she arched her back away from him just a bit. Adjusting to the sensation, she relaxed against him again and drew her leg up, giving him a little better access. That shift in position enabled him to slide two fingers down the slit, rubbing her lips gently, then softly sliding a finger into her damp pussy. His finger went in easily and an inaudible moan left her lips, visible, yet silent.

Thrusting her hips against his fingers in counterpoint to his movement, she worked into a rhythm with him. Reaching up to lightly stroke her own nipples, she turned and kissed his chest, never stopping the rhythm of her hips. He always knew when she was ready, even though barely a sound came from either of them. A shudder went through her entire body as the orgasm rippled from her ears down to her toes and she melted against him. Suddenly gasping for air, she pulled herself upright and turned for a hug and kiss. Standing, her red dress fell down to her bare feet as they went arm in arm up the outside stairs to the bedroom on the second floor.