Note: This takes place in Chapter 6 while Mark and Mary are eating dinner at the Japanese Steakhouse.
There were still hours to kill before I made my Pact with the Devil, tonight. And I was nervous as hell.
Mark suggested Samurai's Japanese Steakhouse out on Mountain Highway in Spanaway as a pleasant way to take my mind off my worries. The closer to midnight the worst my nerves became. I didn't think I could eat, but it sounded better than doing nothing. On the outside, the restaurant resemble nothing more than a warehouse. Between the corrugated metal walls and a tin roof made me stare at Mark as if he was crazy. This couldn't be a nice restaurant. Or even a clean one.
"C'mon, Mare," Mark said.
Mare was his pet name for me. It was somehow a diminutive of Mary. As if Mary could get any shorter. I mean Mare even has just as many letters. But, I liked it when he called me Mare. And filly, the name he called me when we're getting frisky. It made me feel like I was wild horse, running free and only a mighty stallion could tame me. I was still struggling to find a nickname for Mark. In bed, I called him my big stallion. But you couldn't call someone that in public. So I just called him Mark.
Inside the restaurant you wouldn't know its part of a shitty warehouse. Rice paper walls and dark wood made it seem like a traditional Japanese house. The art on the walls were reproduction Japanese woodcarvings and watercolor painting. Simple, austere pieces of birds, flowers, waterfalls, or Mt. Fuji with a Haiku written in Japanese characters down the side. The waitresses were dressed in simple kimonos, black, with red flowers and cinched with red, wide sashes tied in elaborate bows at the small of the back.
The waitress led us to a circular table with a black, flat grill in the center. Another couple was already sitting there; a boorish man, short and round, his black hair greased back and dressed in an ill fitting, gray suit and red silk shirt without a tie. His date was a very attractive woman, porcelain face surrounded by black ringlets of hair. Her lips were pouty and begging to be kissed, covered in a dark red lipstick. She wore a sleek red dress, fitting tightly to her curves and falling to her ankles. There was a slit up the right side and her gorgeous right leg was clad in black, thigh-high fishnet and held up by a lacy garter belt. With her legs crossed, her right leg was proudly displayed through the slit. She turned as I set down next to her, eyes lighting up with interest. The dress was low cut, with a dipping oval cutout that exposed the snowy curves of her breasts. A ruby encrusted, silver pendant nestled in her cleavage.
"Hi, I'm Diane," she said, warmly.
"I'm Mary and this is my boyfriend, Mark," I introduced, smiling warmly at Diane.
"I'm Keith," the boorish man said. He started to say something, when his phone started to ring. Without even excusing himself, he answered the phone, turning away from Diane and talking quietly.
"That's the second time he's done that," Diane complained to me.
"Have you been dating long?" I asked.
She shook her head. "First date, and let me tell you it'll be the last one. I think I'm done with online dating for a while."
I giggled. "Well, I'll keep you company, anyway," I said, adjusting my posture to emphasize my chest in the white, corset dress I was wearing. I saw her eyes flicker down at my cleavage for a moment and a ghost of smile play on her red lips.
Keith hung up the phone and immediately started badgering Mark about sports, mainly the Seattle Seahawks. Mark clearly wasn't a sports guy, unlike my ex-boyfriend, Mike, and he muddled along as best he could. Keith didn't seem to notice, or maybe he just didn't care, and started going in on a tirade about how this year the Seahawks were going to the Super Ball and that the refs better screw them over like last time. Not once did Keith acknowledge his date at all. What an asshole.
A waitress took our orders and a few minutes latter a Japanese chef arrived with a tray full of cooking supplies. He oiled the grill and started impressively dicing the meat and vegetables, tossing food into the air. He was quite talented, making funny jokes. It was clearly a well rehearsed and pretty impressive performance. He somehow sliced an onion and stacked it into a cone with some amazingly fast knifework, and then steam started to pour out the top, like a little onion volcano. I clapped my hands, delightedly, and then set one causally on Diane's thigh.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Diane smile at me, grabbing a piece of grilled meat with her chopsticks and popping it into her mouth. Mark saw my hand on her thigh and winked at me, squeezing my own thigh supportively. Diane shifted in her seat causing my hand to slip down between her thighs; she smiled even more broadly.
Feeling real bold, I turned towards Diane, allowing my short skirt to ride up and spread my legs, flashing my naked pussy at her. Diane held up a piece of meat on her chopsticks and said, "You just have to try this." As she brought it to my lips, her other hand slipped down and rubbed deliciously at my vulva for a moment and I moaned appreciatively. Her finger's came away damp and she licked them, savoring my flavor.
"I gotta use the restroom," Diane said, causally. Her date was on his phone for the third time and didn't seem to even hear her.
"I'll join you," I answered, just as causally. I kissed Mark as I rose and he whispered, "Have fun." Mark was a great guy, very understanding. I'm glad I decided to stay with him.
In the bathroom, Diane wasted no time, pushing me up against the counter and plunging her tongue into my mouth. I sat up on the counter and wrapped my legs around her hips, my skirt riding up. I shoved my hand down her blouse and played with her firm, naked breast and hard nipple. I felt her nipple and marveled at how fat it was as I rolled it between my fingers. Diane loosened the laces on my corset and my breast popped out and she bent down, kissing my freckled orbs and then sucking one of my tiny, dusky nipples into her mouth. Her lips were firm and gentle she felts so good nursing my tit.
There was a gasp and we froze, my nipple in Diane's lips, my hand down her blouse, as one of the waitress walked in. Her olive skinned flushed and she looked down at the floor and quickly walked into the stall. Their was the rustle of fabric and then she started peeing. I was disturbed by how erotic the sound was and was glad Diane started sucking at my nipple again, distracting me.
"Are you always this eager to fuck strange women in a bathroom?" I asked as she stroked my thigh.