Date with Depravity

The directions Shannon-my best friend- sent match the address, although the building looks more like an abandoned warehouse than a location for a first date. I don’t know why I let her talk me into this. It’s not like she’ll find someone to match me perfectly, like she claims. She doesn’t even know me. Not really. No one does.

I pull on the iron ornate door, surprised by how easily it swings outward, and am greeted by a heady beat and a smiling hostess with a menu balanced on one hand.

“Good evening. Welcome to Eden. Do you have a reservation?” she asks cheerily, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Oh, I’m meeting a man here.” When the hostess smile widens, I continue, “It’s a blind date. And all I know is his first name is Michael.”

The hostess’ smile grows somehow larger before she says, “Oh, yes. He is already here. Follow me.”

The restaurant is elegant and fresh, filled with live greenery and golden columns, busts of plaster seated on top. Spotlights point toward the vaulted ceiling, providing ample light, but leaving each table in shadow, like they are each their own private space. The decor fits the name Eden to a ‘T’. I am enthralled, trying to take it all in when the hostess stops at a secluded section, opening a curtain before confirming, “Through here.”

Behind the drape, the room is dim, but still bright enough to make out the seductive atmosphere. Red walls, aglow seemingly from within, cascade like flowing liquid. A golden chandelier lights the remainder of the space, the tiny bulbs encased inside flickering, as if harboring real flames.

Michael sits at a single small table, his back to me, ankle crossed over one knee. He appears relaxed, at ease, perfectly comfortable with himself. As I near, he unfolds from his seated position, standing erect, and though lean, I can sense the power beneath his perfectly cut suit. He fills the room, and yet the ceiling towers above him. I am surrounded by him, and yet we are a room apart.

Shannon had said he- Michael, was an accountant. I’d expected someone… I don’t know. Softer? Less imposing, certainly.

He turns and I stop mid-stride, unsure if the emotion coursing through me is fear or arousal. Perhaps both. It is not unpleasant. The unfamiliar sensation blankets me comfortably, like a second skin.

Michael is tall, yes. He is strong as well, that much is clear by his wide shoulders and trim waist. Sculpted thighs fill his slacks. But what really tells of Michael’s power is his eyes. Blue, stark and piercing. Like ice orbs tucked inside his sockets, glacial; and yet knowing. As if he is reading the very depths of my soul. I’ve never felt so naked and vulnerable. Or turned on.

My nipples harden, and a heaviness fills my belly. It takes everything in my power not to press my legs together even as I feel my cheeks flush.

“Hello,” Michael’s deep baritone greets me, a slender, manicured hand coming out to accept mine. It’s then I remember to offer it. In two short steps, which cover half the distance of the room, he-tall, handsome, and imposing is taking my hand in his, lifting it to his mouth, and kissing it with a featherlight touch. My breath stutters, then stalls.

I’m led to the table, Michael’s hand on the small of my back, fingers fanning out over the curve of my ass. The small gesture warms me to my toes. His touch is electric, intoxicating, and I’ve felt nothing like it.

“I’ve already ordered, so that we’ll not be disturbed, and you’ll have my undivided attention. You don’t have any allergies or sensitivities, I hope.” Michael says, as he pulls out my chair.

“No. I’m open for anything.” I reply, sounding way more inviting than I intend, but he can’t possibly know that I’m not talking about the food, can he? The glint in his eyes says maybe he can.

He pours me a glass of wine, then sits across from me.

“Rarely, do I allow my… dates to sit at the table, so this will be a treat for us both.”

I wonder at his statement but decide to keep my thoughts to myself, but must fail miserably because Michael continues, “Usually, they’d eat on their knees at my feet.”

Openly, I gape at him, even as my panties dampen. I’ve imagined the scene a million time. Kneeling at a man’s feet while he fed me bite by bite. But how did Shannon know? She said Michael was an associate of their husbands, but there’s no way Frank knows about this, surely. The frown marring my perfectly applied face speaks louder than any words.

“If it upsets you not to,” Michael continues, “when the food arrives, I’ll allow it. But only because you look so utterly saddened.” He rakes his eyes over me, stopping at each erogenous zone to assess like he has x-ray vision. I wouldn’t doubt it if he did. His eyes are so penetrating. I feel their caress on each part of me until I’m gripping the arms of my chair in my endeavor not to move under his scrutiny.

“Eager to please, are you?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave.   

The words are new to my ears, but not my mind. I’ve imagined words such as these a million times. I’m unsure how Shannon and Frank knew, as I’ve never mentioned anything about my desires to anyone, ever. But I’m certainly glad I said yes to one date.

The reply is slipping from my lips before I’ve thought about it. “Yes, Sir.” The words taste foreign but feel right. Perfect.

Michael’s mouth stretches into a smile as my cheeks flush.

“I’ll certainly give you the opportunity to do so after dinner. And here it is.”

 We’re quickly served, then left alone when Michael tells the server, “That will be all.” I’m happy to note that his voice has the same effect on others as it does me when she blushes profusely before tittering away.

“Your dress is beautiful. It looks fabulous on you. But you should take it off.” Michael says the moment the server exits. Once again, I’m at a loss for words. My mouth ajar. A red flag is waving inside the back of my head. A voice is reminding me there’s only a thin swath of fabric separating us from the main dining room, but my hands are already moving for the zipper at my side. Before I know it, I’ve stood and draped the crimson fabric over the back of my chair.

“Hmmm. Let me look at you.” Michael says, crooking his finger in a come-hither. When I’m a few steps away, he makes a gesture indicating I should spin. So, I do, like a marionette.

“Very nice. Now, bend over before you turn around and crawl to me.” The words are crude, and demeaning, and… hot. I bend at the waist, fearing what he’ll find; the satin of my G-string almost soaked through. He confirms it with a grunt.

When I turn, Michael’s eyes are strained on me. He likes what he sees, and I like that he does. I draw power from his fiery gaze and hooded lids. It makes me brave, uninhibited, wanton.

I crawl until I’m between his parted legs, anticipation racing through me. I’ve been in the room for ten minutes, and already I know that whatever this man demands of me, I will do. It’s terrifying and thrilling and tastes like freedom from a life half lived.

Michael traces my bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the carefully applied lipstick I’d chosen for this date. “Your lips are very pretty. Made for all means of degrading things.” He pushes the digit between my teeth, stroking along my tongue, pressing further until my eyes water and my mouth salivates. And I should be embarrassed, but my cunt is flooding just as fast as my mouth.

“Suck.” He whispers, so I wrap my lips around his probing and hollow my cheeks, swiping my tongue along the pad of his thumb for good measure.

“Mmm. Very nice indeed. I know I said you could kneel at my feet while you ate, but instead, up you go. Sit right here.” Michael taps his lap. “Legs on either side of me and keep them spread.”

My heart pounds and my hands get clammy. This is completely different from stripping from my dress, or crawling on the floor. This is intimacy on a whole new level. But I really don’t want to stop. As if Michael can read my mind, he says, “we can end this now,” with a look of indifference, although the straining of his flies says something else.

With care, I drape myself over his lap, sitting gingerly. He tugs me closer, so my center is brushing his erection.

“Much better. Okay, open up.” He slips a fork between my lips, flooding my senses with exquisite flavor. And not only from the food, which is remarkably good.k

“What about you, Sir?” I ask, as he feeds me one bite at a time.

“I prefer entertainment with my dinner. Perhaps you can give me some?”

“How would you like me to entertain you, Sir?” I ask, the words sounding as seductive as I mean them to.

“Touch yourself.”

The world spins on its axis, and I hold my breath, eye the curtain. Michael turns my gaze back to his with a grip on my chin.

“No one will enter this area until I say so, I promise you that. You are safe here.” It’s all he needs to say.

Sliding my hand inside the damp fabric, I circle my aching core. Michael offers me another bite, a mousse that melts on my tongue and coats my throat. The addition to my touch is an all-encompassing sensation. Warmth flows through me, as sugary sweetness invades. He feeds me every morsel, reverently, like I am a goddess and I can take no more.

“Okay, my turn. Change position. On the floor. Legs spread. Let me look at you.”

I disengage from his lap with much more grace than I’d hoped for. Michael positions me at his feet, laying me back, one hand still inside my panties.

“You are to continue until I have finished my dinner, and only then may you come. Understood?”

I had felt vulnerable before and laying on the floor under Michael’s observation should make me feel powerless, and I know I should hate it. But something about the approval that lines his face as I lay back and spread my thighs makes me feel powerful. Wanted.

“Yes, Sir.”

Michael doesn’t say another word. He takes his time, cutting and chewing each bite. He sips his wine while he watches my fingers undulate my center. When Michael licks his lips, I groan, wondering what that muscle would feel like, and he smiles knowingly.

“We only have a short time this evening because I have a last-minute engagement, or I would absolutely take a taste. Our first date will have to be shorter than I’d hoped, though, so for now, this is all about you. Are you close? Do you need something more?”

Do I? I don’t know. The sensation of the cold floor at my back, my hand at my center, and the gaze of Michael’s eyes is a potent combination. I’m close, but I fear he is right. It is still not enough.

“What do you need to come? A whisper in your ear? A finger in your cunt?”

The mentioned part clenches greedily and I moan, confirming that is my desire.

“Well, let’s see it, then. Show me how you like to be touched.”

I push the gusset aside, and sink a finger into my heat, but it’s not enough, so I add a second. The squelching of my digits being sucked farther into my depths fills the air and my scent quickly follows. Michaels nostril’s flare.

“Mmm, so pink and tempting. Enchanting. Now come for me.”

And I fall apart. Writhing, teeth clenched, my hips lunge from the floor, thrusting my fingers deeper into my core. My other hand moves rapidly, riding the waves of pleasure until both are saturated in my juices. My chest heaves with the intensity of it all. And I lay there languidly, embraced by the sensation of contentment that has turned my limbs to lead.

I open my eyes to find Michael above me, holding out a hand, a napkin in the other, a smile splitting his face.

“That was wonderful entertainment for my dinner. Thank you. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed.”

We’re both silent as Michael wipes me gently before covering my most delicate place with care. He pats it like it’s a good pet. I suppose it is. When I’m once more tucked away inside my dress, creases smoothed out, he offers me his arm and walks me to the front door, where a taxi is already waiting.

“You’ve been a wonderful companion and I’m so disappointed I have to go. But I would very much like to see you again. When I have more time.” The perusal of my bare arms tells me what he’d do with that time.

“I’d like that very much, Sir.” I reply, before Michael kisses me lightly on the cheek and opens the taxi door. A tingle spreads through me when he stands on the curb, watching until the car turns out of view.

***

I wake up with a sense of fulfillment I’ve never known before. Admitting my desires to at least one person has made me feel lighter, carefree. As I think about our date with a smile that makes my cheeks ache, I wonder how long I should wait before I call him. It’s then I remember I don’t have his number. Frank had set everything up. Shannon can help, though. I reach for my phone, startled when it rings.

“Good morning, Shannon.” I say, a smile in my voice. “I had a really great time.”

“Is that so? Well, Michael called Frank this morning and said you never showed. He waited for an hour.”

“That’s not possible. I was there. With him.”

“Did he look like this?”

A text message comes through, displaying a picture of a man whose name may be Michael, but very much isn’t the Michael I had dinner with. My heart hammers in my chest. This man is balding, and as I suspected, much softer than the man I had met. Dined with. Fucked myself in front of, because that’s the only word to describe it. My head sinks into my hands.

“No, Shannon, he did not look like that! Oh, my god. Who did I have dinner with? And why didn’t I ask for his number?”

header image for Date of Depravity found on shutterstock

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