Just Desserts

Just how we came to be going out to dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in town is a story in itself. My wife, the ever-delicious Dianna, had spent the day working on a special recipe for our dinner. As I was coming home from work she phoned me. She was devastated - the dog had eaten our dinner. I probably wasn't as sympathetic as I could have been and she hung up on me, calling me a heartless bastard for not understanding … all those things woman say.

I quickly went into disaster management mode. I rang the restaurant which we normally could only afford to go to for special events, booked a table by the window overlooking the bay and rang her back and told her to put on her best dress and I would pick her up in 30 minutes. She apologised to me, about 20 times, told me what a wonderful husband I was and promised to be dressed to the nines by the time I got home.

She was true to her word. She was standing in the living room ready to go out wearing a red outfit you could easily describe as sexy with matching high heels – matching as in red and matching as in sexy. As much as I wanted to just admire the view, we needed to be at restaurant. So without any further exchanges we jumped quickly into the car and drove down to the harbour. As we left the car and walked to the restaurant she informed me that the top button on her top kept coming undone and when it did, could I tell her so she could do it up. I chuckled to myself … it sounded like a line from a Literotica story.

We went to our table and sat chatting for a while as our order was taken. Dianne noticed that her button had come undone and asked me if had been that way when the waiter was there.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Look this top is revealing enough without the button open and I thought I would do something special for you and not wear a bra," she said. "So please keep an eye on it for me in case it comes open again."

"Yes," I promised without meaning it. I really didn't know if it had been open while the waiter was with us, but I got a sharp thrill at the thought he might have been looking down my wife's exposed front. The matter was left there and we talked about bad dogs and good husbands and drank our wine. I am not sure exactly when but the button came undone again. I could see large amounts of her breasts and thought there might be a few Brownie points for me in pointing out it was open.

"It's happened again," I said. "I don't know why I am telling you this since the view is magnificent. It must be because I am such a decent bloke."

"Thanks," she said and quickly did the button up again. "I didn't realize it was this loose. If I had known I would have worn something else."

"There's no drama," I smiled. "I asked for a table with a view and I am really enjoying it. Maybe next time I will take a bit longer to let you know it's undone."

A moment or two later, Dianne reached for the wine from the cooler and the button popped again. I thought she would have had to feel it go but it was apparent she hadn't as she poured wine for both of us and continued talking. At that time, the waiter came out with our meals. There was no doubt he noticed the open top and because he was standing up his view would have been even better than mine.

Again, I felt a frisson of excitement as his eyes wondered over my wife's breasts. Eventually, he left. I looked at Dianne and said "again".

She quickly re-adjusted the button and asked: "What is like that when the waiter was here?"

"Yes," I said. "I noticed it just as he arrived and didn't want to say anything to draw attention to it. But I didn't need to, his eyes were all over you …"

"Oh dear," she said. "This is getting out of hand."

"Well, it's hardly a disaster, you go topless on the beach, it's no big deal and I don't really want this issue to mess up our dinner."

"You're right," she said.

As we ate our meal, a massive seafood platter, the waiter returned with another bottle of wine.

"Compliments of the house," he said. "The owner asked me to bring it over."

I looked around and behind the counter a smartly dressed man was smiling at us. From where he stood, he too, must have been enjoying the view.

"Thanks," we said.

"I wonder what all that's about," Dianne said, as the waiter disappeared.

"Do you really want to know," I said?

"Of course I do," she said.

"The waiter and the owner have been ogling you every time your top has come undone. If it happens again, who knows, we may not have to pay for dinner," I joked, well only half joked since we couldn't afford to eat at this place too often.

"You're kidding," she said. "That's what has got us a bottle of wine."

"A bottle of very expensive wine if you look at the label," I said. "I can't think of anything else."

"Mmmmm," Dianne said. "Well if it's one of those parties … "

I laughed again as we toasted the owner, turning to him as we did. As Dianne raised her glass, the button popped again. I winked at her and she said: "I know".

This time however, she made no attempt to do the button up. Quite the opposite in fact, she leant back in her chair to drink her wine and a hint of nipple came into view.

"Do you think we can get the dinner for free," she said. "I've had such a shit of a day that something like that would really make me feel better."

"Well that's a matter for you," I said. "I doubt they're interested in seeing my chest.

Dianne took a hefty swig on her wine. "All right, it's my treat," she said.

At the same time, she motioned to the waiter.

"My napkin has fallen under the table," she said. "Could you help me find it?"

With that, she bent over, revealing just about every centimeter of one breast. The young man was startled at the sight but quickly found the napkin and placed it back in her lap, then departed.

"That's the entrée covered my love," I said. "You know this really is a turn on for me, too?"

"What," she said?

"Watching other men watching you like this."

"Well it's a win/win for everyone then," she smirked. "You know I am not wearing underpants either, don't you?"

I noticed she had repositioned herself in her chair so that she was facing the main bar from which the waiter and the owner were operating, trying to look without being too obvious.

Unbeknown to me, under the table, she had spread her legs so that her womanhood was visible to them. Once she told me about the underpants, I quickly figured what she was doing.

"A girl could get terribly worked up by all this, if she wasn't just doing it for a free meal," she said.

With her breasts and other bits flashing into and out of view, we finished off our meal.

The waiter arrived almost as the last bits of the platters were gone.

"Can I get you anything else," he asked, his eyes now almost out of his head.

"I think I want to see the dessert menu," Dianne said, smokily … and surprisingly since she didn't normally eat dessert.

This time, the owner returned with the menus … the buggers were taking it in turns.

Dianne was very aware of that as she sat back in her chair to look at the menu.

"I think the strawberries and cream looks magnificent," she said.

"Chocolate mousse," I said.

The young waiter returned with our order. He put down my chocolate mousse, and then lent over to place Dianne's dessert in front of her.

As he did, she pushed out a leg and tripped him and the strawberries and cream went all over her top … and mostly over her bare chest.

"Oh madam, I am so sorry," the waiter said, his facing turning the colour of the strawberries. "I will get you something to wipe that all off."

He dashed off and returned, only to find Dianne had taken off her top, winking at me as she did.

"Will you wipe the rest of me," she said.

The young waiter didn't know wear to put himself, but then slowly moved towards her and rubbed, first, the top of her chest.

"There's a fair bit here too," Dianne said, gently pushing her breasts at him.

He looked at me and I nodded, then he quickly rubbed the cream off her breasts.

"Oh look," Dianne said. "Some appears to have gone down the front of my skirt."

Quickly, she removed it and there was cream low down on her tummy.

"Could you wipe that off for me, too?" she said.

By now, the owner had come over.

"Is everything all right madam," he said.

"I do believe it is getting that way," Dianne said.

"If madam would like, we can arrange for her clothes to be dry-cleaned at our expense. And most certainly we feel it would be utterly inappropriate to charge you and your husband for dinner tonight."

"That's very reasonable of you," Dianne said, handing him the skirt and the top.

"Let's go home darling."

At that, she walked out wearing nothing but her jewelry and her high heels. It was quite late, so there was no one else around, but it was still a brave thing do to.

We jumped into the car and laughed ourselves silly.

"I'll go back and get your outfit in a couple of days," I said.

"No you won't," she said. "We can pick it up when we come here for dinner again next time."