What the hell is he up to?
The restaurant he takes me to is pretty upscale, so I’m glad I erred on the site of fancier clothes. I see several familiar cars in the parking lot—dark sedans, which are thoroughly stereotypical but still practical for the mob types Sal hangs with. I can’t imagine he’s invited a bunch of his colleagues for my birthday party. He doesn’t like me enough for that.
When we go inside, the maître d’ greets Sal with a wide grin. “Everything’s ready, Mr. De Luca.” He turns to me. “And you must be the birthday girl.”
“Um, yeah, I guess I am.” I’m starting to get nervous now, and even more so when the maître d’ loops his arm through my elbow.
“This way, then,” he says, and leads us both toward the back part of the restaurant.
The whole back section is a separate room, and as Sal and I enter the door, everyone at the tables stands and starts to applaud. “Oh, my God,” I whisper. He really has invited all his colleagues for a birthday party. I recognize several faces from the party, and of course I recognize Phil Spada, Sal’s boss.
And there’s Nick Angelino. His gaze catches mine and he gives me a smile that’s just a shade too warm for plain courtesy, but I don’t think anybody sees it but me. Sal certainly doesn’t; he’s too busy shaking people’s hands as he moves after the maître d’ to our seats near the middle of the big table.
Once we’re seated, I try to focus on what’s going on around me. I’m getting birthday greetings left and right, from people I know and even more people I don’t. It’s overwhelming, especially since I’m still nervous about what Sal’s ulterior motives might be.
Maybe it’s just a birthday party. My conscience nags me with this, but I know better. There’s never a “just” anything with Sal. Or with any of these men, for that matter. It would behoove me to remember that.
I forget it again, though, when I catch sight of Nick again. He’s sitting next to a pretty girl in a dark-blue dress with an incredibly low neckline. He seems to be chatting her up, but I don’t get the sense from their body language that they’re a couple. Certainly not a long-term couple, by any means. There’s a certain distance between them that tells me they were probably thrown together specifically for this party. That’s fine. He might be expected to take her home after dinner, but that doesn’t mean he will.
He meets my gaze again, as if he senses I’m looking at him. I look quickly away, but then I can’t keep from glancing back not even a second later. Nick grins, and my whole body goes hot. I’m so happy to see him I can barely contain it, but at the same time I’m so acutely aware of Sal next to me and what his reaction would be if he knew what I was thinking. If he knew what Nick and I did the other day in the back rooms of the bakery.
I can feel the warmth of Nick’s mouth on mine, the shape of his hand burned onto my breast. My nipples go hard and start to tingle as if he’s actually touching them. I have to make myself switch my attention or surely someone will realize I’m paying way too much attention to Nick and not enough to Sal.
The food arrives along with wine, and it’s enough of a distraction that I’m able to keep my eyes to myself for a few minutes. It’s wonderful food—fork-tender steak, pasta cooked perfectly al dente, fresh vegetables grilled and seasoned so they taste like summer. My stomach’s twisting around itself, not sure if it’s terrified or elated, but I still manage to eat because the food’s just that good. And from time to time I feel Nick’s eyes on me, and sometimes I shift just a little so I can meet his gaze.
The surreptitious glances start to feel like a love affair all on their own. I lay a hand on my lap, my fingers idly brushing the inside of my thigh. What if it were his hand? What if he could come right under the table, climb up under my dress, and bury his face between my legs? My whole body goes weak just thinking about it.
I shouldn’t be thinking about it. I should focus on Sal. But I can’t help it. After a few seconds it’s like I can actually feel Nick’s tongue on me, stroking, stabbing, teasing. My clit starts to throb, and the pulsing spreads up inside my body. My pussy feels hot and swollen. I squeeze my legs tight together, trying to get the sensations back under control, but the action only turns the heat up higher.
Finally I resolve not to look at Nick again for the rest of the evening. That doesn’t last long, but the next time I glance up, he’s paying attention to the woman who’s probably his date, and he doesn’t look back.