Chapter 7: A Festal Finale

The lights had been lowered in their alcove when they returned. Soft music that Paula recognized as the Adagio movement of Rachmaninov's Second Symphony played softly over hidden speakers. The silver, the glasses, all sparkled in the candlelight. Fresh flowers had been placed around the table, and a light scent of Tuscany drifted through the air.

The waiter stood beside the table, dressed in a dark but elegant suit. Beside him was a small steam cart and the odors that came from it made Paula's mouth water. Her Master licked his lips appreciatively as well.

"Oh, Master," Paula said softly as He led her toward the table. "It's lovely!"

"It should be, for what I had to give Rinaldo to get him to do it all," Kevin chuckled. "Come sit, my slut, and we shall see what gustatorial delights he has sent us."

Paula blushed suddenly, remembering that she was now wearing no panties, and that her legs were wet with the juices of her excitement. Perhaps she would be allowed...

But no, Kevin guided her to the chair next to the waiter. He held it for her as she lowered herself onto the cushion—and as she sat, she felt his fingers pluck at the hem of her skirt, holding it, lifting it, and baring her moistly glistening cheeks.

Paula glanced up quickly at the waiter, who apparently had trained under the British Royal Marines because he showed not a bit of reaction, unlike all the other employees she had seen, spoken to, and displayed herself to this evening.

"Now then, Tomaso," Kevin said, returning to his own chair, pulling it up to the table and laying his hand on Paula's. "Tell us what Italian delicacies we are to be regaled with, sir!"

Pulling the steam cart around, Tomaso opened it and removed a tray covered with tomatoes. "We begin with caprese, sir, the finest fresh tomatoes from the vine, covered with fresh mozzarella and sweet basil, then a light drizzling of olive oil, to tempt you and tease your palate with a hint of things to come."

He laid the tray between Paula and Kevin, then placed two small, elegant plates in front of each, and carefully served a bit of the food to each.

Paula did not move as Tomaso looked down expectantly, instead looking to the man seated beside her. Kevin smiled.

"You may try it, my slut," he said, before picking up his own fork and sampling the dish himself and making appreciative sounds.

"Oh this is delicious," Paula said. "Wherever do you get fresh tomatoes out of season, though?"

Tomaso grinned. "There are tomatoes, and then there are tomatoes," he declared—and ogled her breasts, exposed as she leaned slightly forward to eat.

Paula blushed, then gasped. The blush was because of Tomaso's open and very Italian appreciation of her chest, the gasp due to Kevin's free hand dropping down her back and slipping under the waist of her skirt, and his fingers stroking her ass.

Tomaso continued, turning back to the cart. "For a pasta, we give you ravioli salsa rosa, Rinaldo's very own creation of Portobello mushrooms, and his secret pink sauce!"

For the next few minutes, Paula was torn between two desires: the luxurious taste of the caprese and ravioli, and the wanton lust building inside her loins as Kevin's hand teased over her cheeks inside her skirt, and probed at the cleft between them. She wanted to savor the meal at the same time that she wanted to throw herself on the table, tearing her clothes off, and beg him to fuck her within an inch of her life.

She wisely chose to savor the delightful food, and try to keep from gushing pussy juice all over the chair and floor.

As the last of the pasta disappeared from the serving plate, Tomaso opened the cart completely and pulled forth a great gold charger.

"Finally, the entrée! Tilapia acqua pazza, a succulent filet in white wine, with more fresh tomatoes, garlic and spinach. Truly Rinaldo's finest meal!"

And that wasn't hyperbole, Paula thought as she ate, trying to match Kevin's slow, sedate work on the fish. It was difficult, when what she really wanted was to throw the food down her throat, and then slip under the table and follow it up with a taste of her Master's cock.

She shivered as she felt his finger probe lightly at her anus, under her skirt.

He looked at her and he was wearing the quirky smile she had seen frequently in the years they had been together, as well as in pictures going all the way back to the sweet photo his parents had made at age 5. He leaned cose to her and said quietly, "Are you chilly, my slut?"

Paula giggled. "No, Master, if anything I am so hot I feel like I am about to explode!"

Kevin nodded sagely. "Let us see if we can remedy that, shall we?" He turned back to Tomaso, who hovered attentively. "We would like some tiramisu, and two glasses of amaretto, prepared the way I like it." The waiter nodded and turned to go. "And don't hurry back."

Tomaso half-turned and nodded again, with a knowing smile.

"And now, my hungry little whore, let us work on lowering your temperature."

Paula moaned as his hand was withdrawn from her ass and her skirt, but her frustration was only momentary. He motioned for her to stand. "Display dressed," he said simply.

She set her feet apart and bent slightly at the waist. She gazed into his eyes then as she reached up and undid two more buttons on her blouse, letting the ripe curves of her breasts nearly tumble free—but not quite. Moving as slowly and enticingly as she could, Paula placed her arms behind her back, crossed, as she raised her head.

Her body was displayed almost as completely as it had been in the men's room, and she knew it excited her lover. Standing in the dimness of the restaurant alcove, she wanted to show him her complete devotion, love, and willingness to surrender to any and all of his desires. She did not react as people moved in the walkway outside their private little world, even though she knew they need only turn their head and see her in the shadows, clothed but at the same time naked in mind and spirit.