Chapter 3

We pulled up in front of Dish, the hottest and hardest restaurant to get into in Chicago. I’d never been, but it seemed like Jay had many times before.

He opened the wooden door, and into a space lined with more wood.

As soon as we were at the hostess station, Jay took my coat from me. His eyes raked over my body as the red dress was revealed for the first time.

“Right this way, sir,” the hostess said once she’d taken our coats.

The hostess led us to a table for two in the corner. It matched the wood of the entranceway. Jay sat with his back to the room, giving me a good view of the trendy restaurant.

It wasn’t particularly big, certainly nowhere near the size of a TGI Friday’s. I’d never been anywhere so upscale before. The same dark wood was everywhere, even in the light fixtures. All the diners were dressed to impress, and there were a surprising amount of them, given that it was a Monday. What surprised me most was how far apart the tables were. We could shout dirty secrets to each other and no one else would hear.

* * *

“Your menus,” the waiter said, placing one on the table in front of each of us. “May I get you anything to drink to start with?”

“A bottle of the Besin Colseau 2010,” Jay said to the waiter.

“What’s that?” I asked.

Jay looked to me and smiled. “Red wine.”

Another man appeared and poured water into our water glasses. Embarrassed, I picked up mine and drank.

The menu was… different. There were only three entrees to choose from, and I didn’t know what half the stuff in it was. I studied it, determined to translate it into something I understood. It boiled down to meat, fish or poultry. I went for the poultry as that was always safe, though I’d never had quail before, other than the eggs Jay had brought to the picnic, which is the only reason I knew it was a bird.

A sommelier appeared and poured our wine. We ordered our food. Another man appeared with an assortment of bread to choose from. I selected a herbed potato bread. Potatoes made into bread, who knew?

I was in agony the entire time. Wearing the g-string out was the worst idea I’d ever had. Lesson learned. But for now I needed to take it off.

“I keep envisioning that g-string under your dress.”

I stifled a laugh. “It’s about to come off, I can’t take it anymore.”

Jay raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to the ladies’ room to take it off.” I stood, trying to figure out which way the restroom was.

“I’ll be thinking about you.”

* * *

The washroom had three stalls. Nice stalls. The partitions went all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and the solid doors were the same dark wood as in the restaurant. Even though I was alone, I went into a stall to take off the g-string, in case someone came in. I didn’t want them to find me with my panties around my knees. Well, if you could call these panties, there was not quite enough fabric for them to qualify.

G-string in hand, I pulled open the stall door and jumped. Jay was standing right in front of me. He put his hands on my hips and pulled me into him.

“You can’t be in here,” I said.

“Is this another one of your rules?” He kissed my neck and I closed my eyes in delight.

“Not only mine. You can’t just come in a women’s bathroom,” I said, my voice breathy.

“I’m James McAllister, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He kissed across my cheek.

“Not to me you’re not, Jay Mickle. You definitely can’t do anything. You didn’t manage to keep that photo off the internet.” The shock and hurt of the photo had been forgotten and had become a light-hearted joke between us. I giggled and put my finger on his lips, stopping his advancing kiss.

“Watch me.” He turned us around and backed me up against the counter, planting his lips on mine.

He placed his hand on my thigh and slid it up, taking the fabric of my dress with it. His fingers grazed across my bare lips, making them tingle. I had to be strong.

“We can’t in here,” I protested between kisses. “It’s a bathroom.”

“It’s a lot cleaner than that dive bar, and I didn’t see you complaining there.”

The memory of being under the table at the bar made my pussy clench with want.

“But our appetizers have been ordered and are probably going cold on the table.” I tried to wiggle my way out of his grasp.

“So I’ll order fresh ones.” He slipped a finger inside of me, the pressure so light it made me hunger for more. Fuck it.

I moaned, needing more. He increased the pressure of his finger, my pussy becoming wet with want. We kissed, a passionate, deep kiss as frantic as our first.

The bathroom door opened.

“Oh my God!” a woman shrieked.

Jay jumped back and I yanked my dress back down, hoping I hadn’t just given her a wide-angle shot of my crotch.

Jay flashed his dazzling smile at her. He tipped his head at her and said, “Ma’am” and left the bathroom.

Meanwhile my skin had turned the same shade of red as my dress and I fumbled to regain some composure. She rushed into a stall and I fled the room.

Jay was sitting at the table as if nothing had just happened. I hurried back to the table, the g-string bunched up in my hand. I dropped it in his lap as I passed him and sat down in my seat.

It was so much more comfortable now I didn’t have a narrow piece of fabric taut across my sensitive parts.

Jay picked up the g-string, propped his elbows on the table and held it out between his fingers, like a cat’s cradle. My eyes darted around the room, praying no one was looking our way.

“I wish you’d stay at my house,” he said, his eyes on the silk triangle.

“We talked about this, I want to stay at my place on weeknights. I like walking to work. It means I can sleep in longer.” When was he going to understand I needed my home? I loved my condo. I’d worked so hard to keep it. I didn’t want to give it up.

“Don’t the nights make it worth it?”

Still worked up from the bathroom, I tingled all over as I pictured one of our nights. It was true. Tonight would be the first time in two weeks that we hadn’t slept in each other’s arms after fucking half the night away.

“You could always stay at mine,” I said, trying not to sound like I was begging. Which I was.

“I don’t know, I think I may be done with slumming it now,” he said, joking.

“Ouch, harsh! My condo is not a slum, I’ll have you know,” I said laughing.

He flashed his dazzling smile at me. “You know I can see your nipples through that dress?”

My hands went to my breasts, covering them. How were you supposed to wear a bra with the cut of this dress? They could at least have put extra fabric in the front, to shield the nipples.

“I didn’t have a bra that wouldn’t show with the cut-out back.”

“So you’re telling me you’re sitting there in no panties or bra?”

“I guess I am.”

“And you expect me not to fuck you right now on this table?”

My eyes widened, unsure if he was serious or not. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Our food arrived, distracting us from the idea. I dug into a dish of… something. It tasted nice anyway. Better than nice, amazing. I stopped talking while I finished all that yummy something.

Jay ordered another bottle of wine.

While waiting for our entrées, he said, “This weekend, before the weather gets too cold, I’m going to take you out on my boat.”

“You have a boat?” Of course he does.

“Technically a cabin cruiser. It’s supposed to be sunny Saturday.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t wear underwear.”

I laughed. “Okay, I get it now. Is this more of you marking your territory?” Jay had this thing going on, where he had to fuck me in a different room in his mansion every night. I still hadn’t been back in his bedroom. But twelve bedrooms takes time, especially when you include en suites. After that we were starting on the ground floor. We probably wouldn’t finish the basement until spring.

“You know, it’s going to take a lot longer if you’re not there Monday to Friday.”

“Yeah? Maybe I want to do the same to you in my condo.”

“You have three rooms. Including the bathroom. And we’ve already fucked in two of them.”

“I have areas. There’s a living area, a dining area, a kitchen area.”

Jay laughed, his smile lighting up his entire face.

Our next course arrived, and I laughed at the tiny little bird on my plate. Good thing I wasn’t that hungry, other than my hunger for Jay.

We finished our meal with dessert, mine a panna cotta with gooseberry. Whatever panna cotta was. Or gooseberry. It was insanely delicious, like the rest of the meal.

“Coffee?” the waiter asked.

“Just the bill,” Jay said.

“Hey, maybe I want some,” I protested. The waiter and Jay both looked at me and I squirmed.

“Maybe I’ve been sitting here all night knowing you weren’t wearing a bra or panties and now I want to take you home and rip that dress off you,” Jay said, his voice stern.

I burned red and stared down at the table, debating whether to crawl under it. How could he say that right in front of the waiter?

“I’ll get the check,” the waiter said.

“Hurry,” Jay said.

I raised my eyes to glance at him, still burning. But somehow I found the courage to say, “I’m going to pay tonight.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I insist. It’s to celebrate my first day. I want to get it.” I put as much confidence into my voice as I could muster.

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a celebration, and you don’t pay for your own celebration.”

“Jay, I mean it. I want to pay.”

His lip curled. “No.”

“Half, at least let me pay for half.”

“Why do you want to pay so badly?” His voice was puzzled. He really didn’t get it.

“Because I don’t want you paying all the time just because you’re rich. I want to pay my own way in life. Not depend on a rich boyfriend.”

The waiter discreetly set the bill on the table. We both reached for it. Jay’s hand got there first, mine landing on top of his. I didn’t let go, I would not let him pay my way.

He pulled his hand away, taking the bill with it.

“I mean it,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth.

His eyes flicked over it, ignoring me. I stared at him, waiting for him to look up. He took his black American Express card out of his wallet and tucked it in the leather folder the bill had come in.

I kept staring at him, waiting for him to notice me. At last he looked over and laughed. I don’t think I have a very good steely look.

“You want to pay so badly?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine.” He slid the check across the table, chuckling. I picked it up, flicked my eyes to him then down to the bill. Fuck me. I swallowed. Two thousand bucks. How was that even possible? Over eight hundred dollars for each bottle of wine alone.

I cleared my throat. “Maybe I’ll just cover the tip.” I mentally calculated twenty percent. Four hundred dollars! Why didn’t I figure that out before I’d made the offer? And why wasn’t I waitressing in a fancy restaurant?

He laughed. “I warned you.”

Annoyed, I held my ground when I probably shouldn’t have, but I didn’t like the way he’d laughed. “I insist, I’ll cover the tip. Is that good?”

“If it’ll make you happy, but you really don’t need to.”