I knew as soon as I saw her sipping her soup. A spicy tomato concoction in a large bowl, sprinkled with cheese and croutons. One of my better efforts, if I do say so myself.
She was sitting across the floor at table twelve. Alone. Young. Tall. Dark. She glanced across at me through the serving hatch and smiled, and I knew that she knew too.
The next step was to engineer the opportunity. It was fairly late in the evening, so I took the obvious approach, and systematically got rid of everyone else.
As I slowly thinned the staff, the other customers finished their meals, paid their accounts, and left, some of them waving their familiar arms at me through the hatch. I didn't care, so long as they didn't stay. Soon enough, the eatery was down to the last three customers, and I sent the waitresses home, a not unreasonable 'you look tired' as my feeble excuse. They didn't argue, and I didn't care how suspicious they were, so long as they went.
Just the old lady at seven, and Joe. He was a regular, and he seldom had sufficient money to pay his bill anyway. So I told him his meal was on the house, as long as he didn't linger for dessert. You've never seen a fat guy move so fast. The old lady was keen for some coffee after her dessert, and I plead guilty to having told her we had run out. I was desperate. Shoot me.
So there we were. The woman was delicately nibbling a Panini, and grinning at me. I locked the doors, and started toward the table. I never made it. As I turned, she slammed into me, and pushed me toward the relative privacy of the kitchen.
"Sarah." It was a brief statement, not a conversation starter.
"Leith," I replied, content to stare, as I stumbled backward through the swing door.
I slumped against the wall, and suddenly her face was pressed hard against mine, her pretty head tilted slightly up, her dark eyes closed as her lips spoke soundlessly against mine, tongues extending to twine together, with a familiarity for which I could find no excuse, but no objection.
Recovering from the assault somewhat, my fingertips slid down her slim back, feeling her ribs and brastrap through the thin white blouse. My hands reached her bottom without resistance and pulled her hard toward me, her buttocks firm but yielding in my large fingers.
I'm sure she could feel the erection desperate to escape from my trousers, but she didn't release her face from mine until she had thoroughly explored my mouth with her tongue, and my face with her hands.
I'm no pretty boy, but I'm told I have rugged good looks. The feel of her delicate fingers across my rough face told me she didn't find me offensive.
Eventually her immediate explorations were complete, and she released me long enough to catch a breath, and then, as she stared wordlessly into my eyes, she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, one by one, until it fell completely open before me, only her lacy burgundy bra covering her breasts. I released her buttocks reluctantly, and was immediately repaid. She slipped the blouse sleeves off her arms, threw the blouse onto the counter, and reached behind to unsnap the bra. All this time she was looking directly at my eyes, and smiling. As the bra surrendered to the pressure from her breasts, it fell forward, and she caught it deftly, flinging the burgundy lace away to fall with the blouse. I barely noticed, as this action had uncovered her breasts, and I couldn't take my eyes off them. They weren't unusually large at all, but full, firm, and decorated with erect dark nipples, just waiting for attention.
I took the breasts into my hands, rough skin against silky, bony strength caressing smooth, warm mounds, pillars of womanhood. Squeezing them now, and flicking the nipples with my thumbs, I pressed a sigh from her.
Somehow she managed to open my shirt buttons as I fondled her breasts, and then she pushed herself against me again, breasts to my slightly hairy chest, her groin grinding against my trapped erection, her lips returned to mine.
Reaching down to her butt again, I clasped my hands together, and lifted her from the floor, her mouth still fearlessly attached to mine, and carried her to the food prep bench. The surface had been cleaned and dried carefully, but I expected a reaction as I gently lay her on the cold stainless steel. I got none.
Carefully detaching my mouth from hers now, I stood again, and looked upon her seemingly permanent smile. I slowly ran my fingertips over her shoulders and down over her breasts, her body consenting with a shudder as my finger again flicked across her nipples, on down her slim torso, to the loose white skirt attached between her waist and hips. Running my hands on past the skirt and down near her knees, I stopped momentarily, reversed my direction, and slowly slid my fingers back up her smooth legs, pushing the skirt as I went, gradually revealing dark lacy briefs, a matching set to the recently flung bra. The briefs were tight and sexy across her pubic mound, and I could detect a small area of darkness on the maroon surface, dampness leaking from her ready groin.
My fingers hooked the thin edges of the panties, and as she lifted her butt from the bench, I prised them from her hips, and down her legs, pausing to fling them in the general direction of the other clothes before lifting the skirt up to her navel and lowering my mouth to the source of the moisture.
The curly triangle covering my target was dark and ample, but my thumbs opened the entrance like a pair of movie theatre curtains, and I could see the puffy folds of skin, slightly glossy with the wetness, warm and demanding to my tongue, insistently pink and delicate, like a magnet for my caresses. My tongue slid effortlessly from the base of the lips, flickering without hindrance to the left and right, and deep within, the musky taste of her exciting me still more, her womanly odour perfume to me.