Passion and Lust Ch. 04

"You've been feasting your eyes on that menu from the moment you got it. Does everything look so good?"

"Uh, yeah. Everything's looking really delicious."

"Well, I liked the sound of that grilled strip steak. How about you?"

A woman that loves steak? God almighty, does she have a single flaw?

"The, uh," he flipped through the menu quickly, landing on what seemed like the cheapest thing, "the Italian salad."

"Salad? That doesn't sound all that filling. Is it a large salad?"

"Looks pretty big to me. Besides, I don't have salad often. It's a good change of pace." He leaned back in his seat, trying to forget about the financial concerns of the evening. Everything would be taken care of soon enough.

"Do you know when the waiter will be back? I may not get hungry, but I can still enjoy food, and that smell is enticing." Her wet, red tongue snuck out to trace her lips before disappearing back into her mouth.

"I don't know, actually. Never been to a place as nice as this. Other places they have once waiter to a group of tables, so you have to wait a little bit if you want something."

"Mmm, what should we do while we wait?" Her eyebrows perked up and her face grew into a lazy, vulgar smile.

"Why don't you tell me about y—"

Allen's question was cut short when one of Val's hands slipped under his crotch and cupped his balls, greedily closing her fingers around them. His back stiffened on the spot.

"Tell you about what?" asked Val, her smile growing wider and darker. She locked eyes with Allen, her gaze slanted with an almost fearful hunger.

Swallowing, Allen tried to lean back into the booth and look more natural, but Val was enjoying the visible effect she had on him. The hand holding his precious manhood squeezed and pulled, forcing Allen to sit up and away from the booth's backing.

"W-well, I guess I didn't have you p-pegged as a meat-lover."

While his speech may have stuttered, his eyes narrowed, matching Val's own intense gaze. He started thinking about how great it would be to slam her against the wall, rip off that dress and wipe that confident smirk off her face. He wanted to dig his own hand into her precious place, control her body like she now controlled his.

"I can feel that wanton passion coming off of you, Allen," she whispered. "I could live off that alone. But if you're wanting to overcome me, that's only going to make me want to dominate you more."

Her hand shifted to the underside of his shaft, fingers circling around his now-rigid member in a gradual upward stroke. His cock begged for freedom, Allen's slacks and underwear confining it in a tiny prison. Val's soft palm and fingers felt wonderful even through the fabric, but he could imagine how they would feel outside of it. Each slow, methodical stroke from her wonderful hand got him harder and harder. At one point, he thought his member would rip through his clothes with how hard she had gotten it.

All the while, she smiled at him, resting her chin atop her visible hands, knowing Allen could do nothing.

"Have either of you decided what you would like?" asked the waiter.

Shit! He'd appeared out of thin air, giving Allen no time to compose himself. To make things worse, Val took the opportunity to add a second hand. Two now worked his cock through his slacks, one teasing his head while the other massaged his shaft and balls. He hid his face behind the menu, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"I'll have the grilled strip steak," said Val. "Well done."

She handed her menu over with a polite smile, acting as if nothing at all was happening. Easy for her; she didn't have two skilled hands on her privates.

"And you, sir?"

"The... the salad, please. Italian salad."

Val, as if disappointed Allen hadn't slipped up, quickened her motions. A groan rose from Allen's throat, but he disguised it behind a cough. He shot her a scowl which she met with a grin.

Handing over the menu, Allen kept his face down, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide an expression of pleasure if Val stroked him with any more intensity.

"And dressing?"

Fucking dressing? He wanted to yell "Whatever!" but didn't want to give Val the satisfaction.

"Italian?"

"Excellent, sir." The waiter gave a short bow to both Allen and Val. "I'll have you meals out as soon as they're ready. Let me know if you need anything else."

Allen took in a breath to sigh in relief, but Val wasn't done yet.

"Actually, waiter, could you bring me a drink?"

"Certainly. What would you like?"

Her hands dug deeper to the point Allen almost couldn't feel the fabric between her skilled digits and his manhood. Her palm cupped and gripped his head then began pulsing as if sucking. Her other hand seized his shaft as far around as it could and began a delicate pumping motion, making Allen expel his breath in a huff instead of a sigh.

"Red wine would be wonderful. Do you have that?"

"Of course. There's a wine list here you can look at."

Val took her sweet time going through the list, playing as if she couldn't make up her mind for the life of her. Every now and then she would glance up at Allen with those wicked eyes of hers, giving a teasing squeeze to make sure he didn't forget the situation he was in. Of course, there was no way Allen would ever be able to think about anything except those two dexterous hands groping him. Any sort of show Val put on above the table was simply for effect.

After what felt like and eternity, Val made her decision.

"I'll be right back with it," said the waiter.

Only when Allen was absolutely sure the waiter was gone, did he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and concentrating on resisting Val. He looked up at her, nostrils flaring, and moved his hands to pull hers away. As much as he loved her attention, he wasn't going to lose this little game to her.

Val was too quick, though. Two more invisible hands darted out, seizing Allen's wrists and pinning them to the table.

"Let's keep those where we can see them. Who knows what you might do with them otherwise?" said Val, winking and giving his member a swift jerk. "But you had a question, didn't you? And I haven't answered it."

"Yeah. About—" He cut himself off, squinting as a wave of pleasure drowned out his senses. "About steak."

"My sister and I actually ate quite a bit of meat back in our day. It was common practice for other spirits to demand sacrifices like boar or deer or livestock. We were perfectly happy with the offering of their physical bodies for long, exhaustive bouts of lovemaking," she said, her grip tightening with deliberate strokes on the words she emphasized, "but we didn't turn away the sacrifices, either. Most people did it for their own peace of mind, anyways."

"So steak was your favorite?" Allen fought to keep his voice steady and posture even. He was going to beat Val at this if it killed him.

"Mmm, not necessarily my favorite. There were so many delicious dishes. But it's certainly one of my favorites."

"You said a lot of people visited you. Enough to 'satisfy' you, anyways. How many was 'enough'?"

Val's pace slowed for a second. "Are you sure you want to know that?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

"Very well, then." Her hands moved to his tip and she traced her fingertips all the way down his shaft, like she was scratching it, only without using her nails. "It was typical for three different people—men more often than women—to come to my sister and I seeking a sexual favor or release each day. There were many repeat visitors, as well."

"And—" He had to swallow as Val's fingers sent a tingling up his shaft and his spine. "—and for how long did you do this? Accept people like that?"

"Many years. At least a hundred. We stopped when I learned of my sister's other exploits." Her hands stopped, waiting for Allen's reaction.

Closing his lips, Allen nodded his head one way, then the other. Three people a day, minus the repeat visitors, then take away the people her sister took care of... either way, it was a monumental number. More than Allen could fathom sleeping with himself. Probably more than physically possible for any one person. To be honest, he didn't know how to react. The number and duration of these... exploits was so high they became meaningless to him. Like looking at an ocean and comparing it to a pond.

"Tell me how you feel about it now, Val. Would you do it again?"

"Certainly. It is my role, one which I take great pleasure in."

"Don't you feel like it cheapens the act, though?"

"The number or diversity of people I perform sex with has no effect on either my performance or the meaning of the act. I always put forth as much effort as I can, match each encounter to my mate's wants and needs."

"What if you want to do it with someone special?"

"I never considered having someone special. It would not work for someone in the position I occupy. I would outlive them, and a spirit and a human would not be able to understand each other well enough to make a connection worthy of being called love."

So there was a difference. A gap. One Val said was insurmountable. But did she believe that, or was she simply saying that for her own benefit? Did she not want to try?

Allen looked down at the table, then out across the restaurant. The place was filled with couples and groups, talking about whatever was going in their own lives, uncaring of what was taking place in Allen's own booth. They had their own lives, their own situations, their own stories. They'd walk out of here none the wiser of Allen or Val. What did they matter to him?

"Alright," said Allen.

"'Alright'?"

"What, you want me to be upset or something? You did what you did 'cause it was your job and you enjoyed it. Would you get upset with me for the same? You're a grown woman, you can make decisions for yourself. What happened back then means shit to me right now." He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "What would have pissed me off is if you'd said you'd take it all back. That you were ashamed. There's not enough time to be going around, doing stuff half-assed while looking over your shoulder. You live your life, and you mean it. Just like I said I was in it with this thing with you and your sister: that means 'till it's over, no ifs, ands or buts. I'd take conviction over reflection any day."

"I am... pleased you agree with me," she said, smiling. "I know it is not typical of current societal norms to have so many partners."

"'Current' societal norms? You mean back in your day people just had sex with whoever? All the time?"

She chuckled. "Not quite. But they wouldn't be so upset if I was caught in a place like this doing something like this."

Her hands resumed, quicker now, and were joined by two more. This time, Allen couldn't hold back his moan, though he kept it as quiet as he could. The waiter chose this spectacular time to return with Val's wine. She stared Allen in the eye the entire time, her hands exploring his crotch area with smooth, gentle touches. Only when she was asked a question did she acknowledge the waiter, but even then only to answer. Two hands rubbed up against the inside of Allen's thighs, slowly moving back and forth between his cock and his knees. The other two hands paid special attention to his shaft and frenulum, making his tip ache for the touch it felt earlier. Pre dribbled in his slacks, but Allen hardly cared. He wanted nothing more than for Val to free his painfully stiff member and remove that annoying barrier of fabric.

But she was in it for the long haul.

With nothing to do but wait for their food, Val kept her attention of keeping Allen on the edge. Her visible arms were crossed, laying on the table to support her, but all the invisible ones were busy. Two hands held his wrists in place on the table, preventing Allen from struggling away from Val's attentions. Not that he would, but he could tell she liked the control. Her remaining four hands kept Allen in heaven, massaging his thighs, fondling his balls and caressing his member in fluctuating patterns. The cloth of his pants and underwear were a maddening barrier, just enough to let Val play with him indefinitely without giving him orgasm, but not so much that any slight shift in pressure or angle went unappreciated. Whenever he felt glorious release approaching, Val would slow, spreading her hands out to rub his legs more and let his member throb in unrestrained arousal.

The twenty minutes he waited for their food felt like hours.

The sight of the waiter approaching put a smile on Allen's face, one other than the stupid blissful grin Val had nearly etched into him. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd eat with his hands pinned to the table as they were, though. Or if he'd even be able to muster the concentration to. Val answered that question by undoing his pants button, opening the zipper and releasing his member from its suffocating enclosure. The moment those four hands of hers touched bare skin down there, his composed smile devolved into a gape.

"For the madam, a grilled strip steak," said the waiter, placing the hot, steaming meal in front of Val. "And for the gentleman, our finest Italian salad." He slid an impressively-sized bowl in front of Allen with some sides on a smaller plate next to it, but Allen's eyes were fixed on Val's. The joy mixed with lust in her gentle gaze demanded his attention in a oddly peaceful way.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"I'll be fine." Val nodded to the waiter. "Allen?" She deliberately left a pause in her speech. "Is there anything you need?"

You know exactly what I need, you fiend.

"No" is what came out of his mouth, however, and the waiter left them be.

Ignoring her dinner completely, Val shifted the weight of her chin to one hand and idly tapped the tabletop with the other. "My, my. From the look on your face, I was sure you needed something." The grin across her face said more than words could.

One hand encircled his base with a thumb and pointer while the palm and other fingers cupped his balls. Her second and third hands pumped his shaft with three fingers, each hand rotating different directions, while the other fingers teased the underside of his cock with light touches. Her fourth hand cupped his tip in its palm, slowly lifting off the tip to allow the lengths of her fingers caress his engorged head until her fingertips came together over his opening, only to reverse the process with the same agonizingly-slow speed. Allen swallowed, trying to wipe the dripping sweat from his brow, forgetting Val still had his wrists pinned. The lack of freedom drove him even madder.

"Val, I'm going to c—"

"Allen, please. We're in public. Don't say such inappropriate things."

She clearly didn't care how close he was, as her hands sped up, making him lift his chin and gnash his teeth together to keep from moaning. His cock, nothing more than her plaything, helplessly suffered her attentions. Allen's hips began to move on their own, thrusting into the whirlwind of precise fingers as his sensitivity reached its peak. With a moan that sounded more like a whimper, he succumbed to her hands.

A lightning bolt of pleasure shot down his shaft, his seed spewing forth as his entire body tensed up. Val's hands welcomed the sign of submission, squeezing him from base to tip, encouraging as much as the could out of him. His hips rocked with each spurt. His breaths came out ragged. Finally, when he could give her no more, he went limp in his chair, Val's grip on him disappearing as if it'd never been there.

"This is quite delicious. Would you like a bite?" She cut of a small piece of her steak and held it out.

The damn woman had already started eating, acting as if she'd done nothing at all! Allen had to blink a few times to clear up his vision. Sitting up, he answered her question with a glare and poked at his own meal. Salad had never truly looked appetizing to him, but the way this place made it, it didn't seem so bad. His first bite gave him hope for the meal.

They ate without much conversation, Allen somewhat famished from Val's mind-blowing handjob and Val herself pleased with her steak. Every now and then they would communicate through a series of glances, Val's teasing and playful, Allen's stoic and smug.

Val finished her meal first. Once done, she scooted across the half-circle booth bench to the middle, facing away from the wall, then patted the empty bench next to her. "Scoot closer," she said.

"I'm still eating." She may have won the round, but that didn't mean Allen wouldn't stop resisting her in every way he could.

"Scoot. Closer." A hand wrapped around his still-exposed cock, squeezing and pulling him toward her, forcing him to move over. He grabbed his food during the move, his own way of saying he wouldn't pay attention, no matter what she did.

"Could it at least have waited until I finished chewing?" Rolling his eyes, he speared another forkful of salad, but Val wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in, her mouth right next to his ear.

"Do you remember that load I made you release?" she whispered.

Allen froze up, his heart rate shooting through the roof. He still tried to play it cool, but being pressed up against Val's voluptuous body and hearing that sensual tone in her voice broke through all his defenses. "Why would I remember it?"

"I bet you thought it dirtied up the underside of the table. That it fell on the floor."

Swallowing, he shifted, trying to get a little more comfortable in the pose Val held him. "Yeah."

"I wouldn't waste it like that. It's in my hand, right now, under the table. I haven't let it go."

Holy shit.

"Right now, I'm pushing aside my underwear. My pussy's soaking and exposed. If you were under the table right now, you could see it."

Allen started panting, unable to speak.

"I'm going to stuff my hand in there right n—nngh!" Val winced, letting out a dire gasp, "—now and my pussy's going to suck your seed off of it." She leaned her head against Allen's, taking a moment for herself. "Mmmm. Can you hear that? Can you hear the squelch of—" she gasped again, "—of my inner walls sucking on it?"

Allen couldn't hear a thing over the thunderous thumping of his heart. He wiped his brow to keep sweat from getting in his eyes, but it just came back as soon as he moved his hand away. Val's face twitched as she worked her hand inside, sharp but hushed moans rattling out of her mouth with each adjustment. Allen stared down at her lap, cursing that dress for covering up the scene she described. He could, however, make out a dark spot on it, and the stench of her arousal hit him like a truck.

Waves of arousal overtook his body with the scent. He became hyper-sensitive of the hand encircling his cock, even if Val had long since stopped pumping it. It took every inch of willpower available to keep himself from tackling Val and fucking her right there. Her body practically begged for him to touch it, to seize it, to have his way with it.

With a heavy gasp and a slight pop, Val's hand left her soaking cave. Allen could hear her breathing, constant and almost ragged, as she started to recompose herself.

"Now, Allen, my hand is positively dripping with my juices. Right now, it's moving over to your cock." Eyes widening, he tried to sneak a peek under the table, but Val held his head in a headlock. "No peeking. Wouldn't want someone to notice, would you?" She grinned. "It's getting closer, Allen. Can you feel the heat? It's so close."

Allen held his breath. He could feel it. It was radiating heat like pavement on a sunny day. Straightening himself in the booth, he held his breath, preparing himself in an effort to not come the instant she seized him.