“Erin.”  Dan springs up from his chair and beams at me. “You look lovely.”

I widen my smile and accept his hug and the light kiss on my cheek before taking my seat. A glass of white wine is beside my place setting. Perfect. I take a sip, swirling the sweet tasting liquid over my tongue for a second before swallowing. I do love a good Zinfandel.

Dan settles in his seat and continues grinning. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

Wait a second! He did what?

“I remember that when we came here on our second date, you ordered the clams linguine and said it was remarkable, so I told the waiter that’s what you wanted.”

I grind my teeth together and swallow my instinctively cutting remark. Sure, the linguine was exquisite the last time, but that doesn’t mean I am in the mood for it tonight. I’m an adult and I have my own mind and I know my own tastes. In other words, I’m perfectly capable of placing my order.

This is supposed to be a perfect date designed to lead to the best night of my life.  Yelling at Dan will spoil that, so this one time I hold my tongue.

First things first. I take a deep breath and enjoy another sip of my wine. “Dan, I’m very sorry for the way I treated you the other night.”

The words sound flat and unemotional to my ears, but Dan doesn’t seem to notice. He reaches across the table and takes my hands, lacing our fingers together. To the rest of the world, we look like a couple in love. The way I want us to be.

“Erin.” He practically purrs my name. “You have nothing to feel sorry about. Lots of women get nervous the first time they make love to the new man in their life. Your reaction was perfectly normal.”

I fiddle with my napkin. “So, you’re routinely kicked out of your new girlfriend’s bed?”

The tips of his ears turn bright red. “Well, no. You’re the first to react that way. But most of them get nervous, like they aren’t sure what to say or how to act. Your tension manifested as kicking me out of your bed and telling me you didn’t think things were going to work out between us. Extreme, sure, but still a manifestation of your nerves.”

Isn’t that kind of what my phone buddy, Mister No O, told me? That the reason I wasn’t climaxing was because I was too tense?

I take another sip of wine. It warms my blood, making me just a little light headed and more carefree than when I sat at the table. I glance towards the kitchen, hoping to see our waiter bearing down on our table with food. Considering how much this place charges, you’d think they’d come up with a way for the pre-dinner salad to magically appear at the table as soon as the order was placed.

I turn my attention back to Dan. “It’s very sweet of you to be so understanding.”

The compliment has him all but preening himself. “Thank you.” He plays with my fingers. “You should know, if you hadn’t contacted me, I was going to call you, though I probably would have waited another day or two.”

“Oh.” Before I can cut off the word, a flash of heat hits my pussy. It’s so strong and unexpected I draw the word out, adding several H’s to the end.

So that’s what the sexy oil is supposed to do!

I instinctively clutch Dan’s hand and press my thighs together.

Dan’s brow furrows. “Erin? Are you okay?”

I’m so focused on the tingling heat between my thighs I barely hear the words. Luckily, the waiter finally arrives and places our side salads on the table.

“Your dinner will be ready shortly,” he says, his tone demure as his eyes scan the table for signs of disarray. I shift so that more of my body is tucked under the table and roll my hips as the lubricating oil grows hotter. His gaze lands on my face, and he cocks his head to the side, clearly aware that something isn’t quite right, but unsure of what it is. “Do you require anything else?”

A bucket of water to throw over my burning body would be nice, but since that’s not on the menu, I shake my head. Dan responds with a solidly spoken no.

Completely forgetting about me, Dan turns his attention to his salad. I unroll my silverware and carefully lay the napkin across my still burning lap as Dan drives the tines of his fork through a piece of lettuce, using more force than salads generally require.

He always eats that way, I recall. I watch as he skewers a radish slice, like he’s attacking his food. Wrapping my fingers around my own fork, I wonder if the aggression with which he eats is one of those signs you’re supposed to watch out for so that you can avoid abusive relationships. Don’t date a guy who immediately starts driving wedges between you and your friends. Avoid partners who have to control every single aspect of every single situation. Be on the lookout for guys who eat as if they’re attacking their food.

Then I wonder why the way he eats food never bothered me the other times we went out. Probably I was too dazzled by his good looks and his job title.

A light shaft of heat wings through my pussy, causing me to gasp as the warmth moves upward. My nipples to tighten and sweat to drop down my spine. My fingers tighten on my fork. The packet of oil said that some women found they only needed to use half the contents in order to obtain the results they wanted. Maybe I’m one of those women—in which case, I’ve really overdone things.

Dan stops chewing long enough to study my face as I fight the urge to squirm in my chair.

“Erin?”

I shake my head and unclench my teeth enough to answer his unspoken questions. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it. You’re all flushed and look like you’re in pain,” he observes. “You’re not getting sick, are you?” For someone who works in a hospital all day long, he doesn’t look happy about spending time with someone who might not be completely healthy.

“It’s just,” I stifle a gasp as another wave of heat rolls through my pussy, “a bad bra. The underwire is digging into me.”

“Oh. Lower your voice when you say something like that!” Dan’s eyes dart from side to side, as if someone might have heard me say the horribly offensive word ‘bra’. “Or even better, don’t say things like that at all when we’re in public.”

Even doctors don’t like to think about things like uncomfortable women’s underwear. Fine, I get that, but the fact that Dan is suddenly more concerned about how someone might react to the harmless statement I’ve made than to the fact that I’m uncomfortable irritates me.

I can’t resist getting a little jab in. “I don’t wear this bra very often, only on very special date nights because, even though it makes my boobs look great, it always hurts like hell.” I’m proud of the fact that despite the increasingly distracting effects of the oil on my girly bits, I keep my voice even and calm. The people sitting at the tables surrounding ours don’t even act like they’ve noticed my unsophisticated spiel.

“Erin.” Dan’s flush and disapproving expression deepens. “I insist you control yourself.”

My eyebrows climb toward my hairline. He insists? Really? So basically, he thinks he can order me around like a child.

The waiter reappears beside our table. He glances at my barely touched side salad. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

“No,” I assure him. “The salad is perfectly lovely. I just wanted to make sure that I saved plenty of room for the entrée.”

The waiter nods and offers me a small but genuinely warm smile. “I understand.”

He places our plates before us. Spinach stuffed chicken breast for Dan. Clam linguine for me.

I stare down at my plate. My meal looks great and it really is one of my favorite dishes on this particular restaurant’s menu. It’s probably exactly what I would have ordered for myself. But I didn’t order it. Dan did. Without asking me if it was okay for him to decide what I should eat.

If I take this relationship further, will I suddenly find myself leading a life where I have to watch what I say, when even simple decisions are made for me?

Another onslaught of heat lashes at my pussy, causing all the muscles in my lower body to contract, as if they’re grasping for something, reminding me of all I went through to prepare for this night.

I shift in my chair and cross my legs, hoping that the change in position will do something to ease the fire building within me. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes things worse. I bite my lower lip and fight the urge to rub myself against something.

People might say that there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I’m fairly certain that if I start dry humping the chair in the middle of all these people, my professional status would suffer.

On the other hand, watching Dan’s expression once he realized what was happening just might make up for the decrease in income … at least for a little while.

As if reading my thoughts, Dan glances up from his chicken, and looks at my untouched plate of linguine.

“Eat up,” he says. I’m sure he doesn’t recognize the slightly authoritarian tinge to his tone, but I do. “You don’t want people to think that there’s something wrong with the food here.” He snorts with laughter. “Talk about embarrassing.”

I pick up my fork, but I don’t move it any closer to my plate of noodles and clams. Instead, I stare at Dan.

It doesn’t take long for him to lift his head and meet my steady gaze.

“What?” he asks.

“You know, when we first started seeing each other, I thought you were pretty much the perfect guy. You’re good looking, have excellent manners, a great job.” I reach for my purse. “Basically, everything I was looking for in a man.”

Dan’s chest puffs out and he visibly basks in my praise. “Thank you, Erin. That’s very sweet of you.”

“I am sweet, aren’t I?” I balance my purse on my thighs and unzip it.

“You truly are,” Dan confirms.

“And I deserve someone equally sweet, don’t I?” I feel around in my purse, finally locating the small stash of cash I tucked inside.

“You do.”

“Which is why I’ve decided that the best thing I can do for myself is take off.” I stand up and toss enough cash on the table to cover my share of dinner, throwing in a little extra as a tip for the waiter.  “Things aren’t going to work out between us, so it’s better to make a clean break now. Don’t you agree?”

Dan blinks at the small pile of bills on the table.  “You’re breaking up with me? Again?”

Oh boy. And he thought me talking about my bra had been embarrassing! A public dumping is much more humiliating, especially since this is the exact type of place that doctors frequent. Even if none of Dan’s direct associates are in here, word will get to them.

I shake my head and do my best to ignore the pulsating heat that’s assaulting my pussy. The only comfort I’m going to be getting tonight is going to be given by the seldom used vibrator that lives inside my nightstand.

“More like I’m confirming that showing you the door the other night was the right decision,” I explain.

“But why?”

If I was a meaner person, I’d let the whole place hear what I have to say, but despite the misogynistic way he’s treated me tonight, I decide to be the better person.

I step beside his chair and lean close. “The other night it was because you failed to excite me while we were in bed together.” No point in telling him that I’m pretty sure that the problem is actually me, especially since the damn oil is effectively proving that I’m not nearly as difficult to turn on as I previously assumed. “I’d planned on giving you a second chance, seeing if we fit together better now that we’ve felt our way around each other’s bodies, but you’ve revealed some aspects of your personality that don’t appeal to me.”

I don’t wait around for him to respond. I simply spin on my heel and walk out of the restaurant with my head held high and a burning, unfilled sensation between my legs.