We arrive at the restaurant, and we sit down to be pestered by another waiter. If I’m being sincere, I’d rather just say fuck the food and have a conversation with Millie about who she is, where she grew up, what her ambitions are. But even more than that, I want to bend her over our table and take her ass in front of everyone here.
I’ve never been so conflicted about my attraction to a woman. Either I want to fuck her and block her number after, or I want nothing to do with her. With Millie, I want so much more, and that means I’m going to have to play it safer until I figure out how to get it.
Throughout the meal, that tension ebbs and flows and eventually begins to build much higher once Millie has gotten a few glasses of wine in her.
“You know, most of the guys I date are really different from you, like… really different,” she says, slurring a bit and leaning her head on her hand.
“Oh yeah? How about you explain that?” I reply, charmed by her openness and the redness flooding her cheeks as the alcohol hits her.
“I guess most of the guys I’ve dated have been more, uh, preppy. Like they’re not all muscled and tattooed and everything,” she continues, drinking deeply from her glass.
I laugh. “Well, you’re already very different from any woman I’ve dated. Most of them have been shrill or just plain stupid. I went out with a girl one time who pronounced the word ‘slaughterhouse’ like ‘s-laughterhouse’,” I reply, sipping from my own drink.
“That sounds like more of a judgment on you than anyone. Why are you looking for stupid girls?” she asks, looking at me questioningly as she takes a bite of her food.
I’m taken aback, but I shouldn’t be so surprised. Millie doesn’t hold back her punches. She throws them to kill.
I narrow my eyes, trying to come up with a good response. “Nobody’s ever really asked me that before. I guess that if I’m being honest, they’re easier to amuse. None of them are going to make me sit down and watch a fourhour black and white foreign film about the bastille or some shit. All you have to do is bring them to an overpriced restaurant, take a bunch of pictures with them, show them a penthouse party or two, make them feel like a celebrity for a night,” I say.
She pauses. “Then what? How do you form a relationship with someone like that?” she asks, sitting up straight, drunk and longing for answers.
I stop and think for a moment. “I guess that was just never the goal for me, at least not then. I liked having someone around to add texture to my life, whatever it was I was doing at the time,” I reply.
“What are you doing now, exactly? Trying to squeeze the life out of middleaged boutique owners?” she asks, laughing to herself at her own joke for just a bit too long.
The night flows on beautifully as Millie and I start to speak more in-depth about ourselves, our lives, how we emerged into the business world. Of course, I need to leave out quite a few significant details of my humble beginnings as an apprentice for one of the most notorious Bratva lords in Moscow when I was only fifteen.
She isn’t ready for that.
At some point, Millie’s entire presence changes, and she’s gazing at me with the most sincerely lustful expression I’ve seen in a long time. There’s no denying it; she wants me again no matter how much she might stonewall me when I visit her shop. She’s here now, and I’ve been able to watch her unravel in fifteen-minute intervals since we arrived.
When the conversation lulls, she bites her lip and stands up to go to the bathroom, beckoning me with her eyes before she turns away. If she wants me to follow her and fuck her while we’re here, she knows I’d be more than willing. It’s just a matter of whether or not she can handle it. She was pretty fucking loud the first time, as much as I loved it.
I glance around me to see if anybody would have been paying attention to the wordless yet deafening exchange of sexual innuendos and body language that’s just taken place. Everybody around me appears to be either engaged with their own entrapments, be it a date or an article they’re reading on their phone. Good.
Following just close enough behind Millie for her to know I’m there, she explores a large, mostly empty back hallway until she finds a single-stall bathroom and leads me into it.
Before either of us even has the chance to consider what we’re about to do, she’s practically wrapping herself around me, her legs entangled in mine as she drunkenly reaches around my neck and kisses me deeply. I don’t hesitate to kiss her back, turning her around and pinning her to the wall with my hand around her throat.
She pulls away slowly, glancing down at my hand and back up at me, too overcome by the drive of pure arousal and four glasses of wine to feel a need to protest.
Instead of pulling away, she leans up against me and kisses me again, then pulls me closer as she wraps her arms around my neck. My free hand finds her panties under her dress and pulls them down to her mid-thigh, grabbing her ass and squeezing as she presses her hips into mine.
She moans into my mouth again as my tongue finds hers, tasting of wine and the sort of desperation that comes from a deep, unmet longing.
“Wait, fuck, we can’t do this here,” she whispers breathlessly, suddenly coming to her senses as she hears a group of waitstaff walk past the bathroom door.
“Then let’s go to my place,” I reply, and we awkwardly compose ourselves as we leave the bathroom, making eye contact with one of the employees as if nothing had ever happened.
But he knew.