Dessert (3 page)

I poured another shot of sake, rasped my hand over my stubbled chin and sighed.

Fleetingly, thoughts of our business conversation popped into my mind but before I knew it my gaze was roaming the woman before me and I was appreciating the sight.

Several grains of the rice I’d spilled were still on her flesh. There was also a seaweed-like strand of nori on her right thigh, curled like a question mark. And although the scent of cooking filled the air, I could almost believe that the subtle scent of woman was also tickling my nostrils—petals, sugar and spice.

Suddenly she flicked her eyes open. I wouldn’t have noticed except that I was staring at her face when those long lashes fluttered upward.

My heart flipped in surprise and a bubble of both suppressed lust and shock popped in my belly.

She stared straight up at me with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that held such richness and such depth that I could have just jumped straight in and drowned a happy man.

She poked out the tip of her tongue, pointed and pink, and swept over the scarlet lipstick at the center of her mouth.

My dick responded to the action. It had settled slightly but was instantly heading back to full hardness. I tried to will it into submission but without success. That damn tip of her tongue was just too much for the dirty side of my imagination.

She moved her arms, dainty movements, but they seemed startling after such a prolonged period of stillness. She rose, her breasts shifting from their side-sloped position to a perfect palmful of softness with heavy undersides. Her nipples stayed jutting out, like ripe cherries topping cupcakes.

“Mr. Alan,” she said in a tinkling little voice. “Are you ready for dessert?” 18

Dessert

“I-I, er, yes…yes.” Why was I stuttering? I never stuttered.

The pale corners of her mouth tipped and the reflection of the candles sparkled in her eyes. She slid to the very edge of the table and the flower covering her pussy lips fell to the floor as well as the few remaining grains of rice and the clinging piece of nori.

Instinctively I reached for the flower, clasped the short stalk and handed it to her, at the same time wondering what she would use as modesty when she left the booth to order my dessert.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was almost singsong, music to my ears, a tickle to my cock.

I struggled to keep my attention on her face. For although I’d stared at her luscious body for over an hour, now that she was moving there were a whole load of other pretty curves and seductive shapes to appreciate and study. Sexual awareness simmered inside me and the effect of her proximity vibrated in my belly so hard that I was sure she’d be able to feel it in the air.

“Please rest back,” she said, nodding to the solid wall that held the bell and the row of candles. I couldn’t have rested on the wall directly behind me, it appeared made of paper with a crisscross of dark wooden struts.

I twisted and shuffled backward, the stiff fullness of my dick hindering my movements.

“I hope you enjoy your dessert as much as you have enjoyed your main course,” she said, dropping to her knees in the small gap between table and my cushion-style chair.

Her shiny raven-black hair spread over her shoulders, several strands skimming the rise of her breast, the blunt ends twirling around her nipples.

“Well, yes, I am sure I will. The food here is lovely.” I gulped as she placed elegant hands on my knees. Her nails were long and painted pale pink. Her gaze stayed locked on mine.

19

Lily Harlem

What is she doing?

She smoothed her palms up my thighs. My skin was hypersensitive, I was so turned-on by her nakedness and the rubbing of the cotton on my leg. A new glut of lust shot to my cock. I glanced at the curtain, opened my mouth to speak.

“Shh,” she soothed, her eyelids drooping as though heavy with a lust that matched my own. “No one will come in.”

“But—”

“Just enjoy your dessert, Mr. Alan. For you it is all part of the service at The Geisha Plate.”

Her gaze was so intense I could hardly breathe. And when the tips of her fingers brushed the bulge at my groin I did actually stop breathing. Held my breath tight as though I was about to jump into the ocean for a deep-sea dive.

She licked her lips, slowly, suggestively, smudging the red blob of lipstick at their center.

Is she going to do what I think she is?

No!

My whole body was strumming with primal tension. My balls ached and boiled, my gut clenched. If I’d felt a little drunk before, now I was as sober as a rock. I was here in the moment, caught up in the spell she’d weaved around me.

“Relax,” she said, cupping my dick through my pants. “Relax and let me suck your penis into my mouth.”

Fucking hell!

Blowing out a breath, I balled my fists. Had I heard her right? Had she really just said she was going to suck my penis into her mouth? Maybe I wasn’t as sober as I thought and I was hearing things I wanted to hear. Because right now, the thought of her sucking my cock was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.

20

Dessert

She tilted her head, her hair shifting on her shoulders like a river of silk. Her super-long lashes batted against her cheeks. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Alan?” What man wouldn’t? This was a dream come true. A blowjob all part of the service.

Hell yeah!

“I, er, yes,” I managed in a raw, throaty voice. I glanced at the bell. The inappropriate touching rule came back to me. Fuck, she was stroking my shaft through my pants. I was sure that would class as inappropriate. Highly inappropriate.

The tiniest of giggles escaped her lips. “Oh, you are a worrier,” she said, rising up slightly and reaching for my zipper. “But I like that, it means you don’t take women for granted.”

“No. No definitely not. And as long as you are sure then…ah…ah…” My dick surged as she reached into my clothing and pulled my shaft free. I stared down at her skillful stroking movements.

“Jesus, really?” I gasped.

“Yes, really.”

Her hands were shockingly small and pale against my swollen, dark-with-arousal member. I couldn’t help a rush of male pride at the size of myself in comparison to her.

“You are a good man, Mr. Alan,” she said. “And now you can enjoy your dessert, but, sh.” She closed her fingers around my hard-on. “You must be quiet so as not to disturb other diners.”

She dipped her head and I saw the almost translucent whiteness of her scalp where her hair parted.

Oh fuck, keep quiet, John. Don’t make this end.
“Yes, yes, okay,” I whispered, gritting my teeth.

She was exploring the head of my cock now, rubbing her fragile little fingers around the ridge beneath my glans, fondling my frenulum, something that always got my balls retracting. My thighs flexed, tensing around her body that had somehow 21

Lily Harlem

squeezed between my legs. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from begging for more, to keep from exclaiming my desperation and pleasure.

I wanted to feel her lips on my cock more than anything. Of course if she had changed her mind and walked away I would have accepted it, but right now, that was just not part of my thought process. No way.

“You have a big penis,” she whispered, shooting a look up at me that thrummed with sensual promise and, dare I say it, admiration.

Damn, as if my control isn’t precarious enough.

In answer to her compliment, my cock bobbed within her hand and the tendons at the base tightened painfully.

She smiled and her attention returned to my erection. She swiped her index finger over my slit then took my entire head into her hot, sweet mouth.

Oh, shit.

I was sure we shouldn’t be doing this. There was something wrong about it, anyone could come in, but fuck me sideways, it felt so damn good, I was going to take what I could.

Within the heat of her mouth, her darting tongue swirled around my tip, drawing a long, low moan from my chest that I had to clamp in my throat. She was going to finish me off pretty damn quick if she wasn’t careful.

I stretched out my fingers, wanting to mesh them into her poker-straight, shiny hair. But I didn’t dare touch her, didn’t dare risk anything spoiling the wonderful, heavenly moment of feeling a woman’s mouth embrace my cock. I jabbed my nails into my palms, balling my fists and pressing them into the soft seat.

She sank low, my belly trembled and carnal bliss took over. I shut my eyes, dropped my head onto the wall behind me and allowed every wet sensation she gave to envelop my shaft—the hardness of her palate, the moist strength of her tongue, the depth of her throat.

22

Dessert

The suction inside her mouth increased as she pulled back up. She stroked her fingers over my saliva-coated flesh as it eased from her lips, her fingertips skilled and teasing. The moist little noises she made were an erotic caress to my ears, gentle laps and slurps, her taking me shallow and deep.

Everything else ceased to exist except for her warm mouth and talented tongue. I tore open my eyes and looked down at her head bobbing at my groin. I could barely contain myself—the image of her giving me such pleasure while I was not reciprocating was almost too much. I had to once again force myself still, take what was being offered and not turn it into something more. Something much more. Like pushing her to the table and fucking her hard. Burying my dick in her small, sweet body.

She dropped low then pulled up, creating a firm and steady rhythm. Each time my head hit the molten resistance at the back of her mouth the burn in my bollocks intensified. Pressure built at the base of my cock, growing and swelling. The agony of holding it back tensed my abs and shot my heart rate to dangerous levels.

I clenched my jaw, peeled back my lips. I was going to come. It was there boiling, getting ready to erupt.

“Fuck, I’m going to…”

She upped the speed, deepened the welcoming entrance of her throat.

I was far from inexperienced when it came to receiving blowjobs, I had been a lucky guy over the years, but Jesus, this was something else. This blew every other suck-off out of the water.

The glorious tingle at the base of my dick told me I was there. There was no turning back. I gulped in a breath and shut my eyes. Bright lights exploded behind my lids. The tingles became an electric whip of sensations, surging up my shaft. Wondrous beats of release poured from me in gratifying pulses.

My copious wet heat mixed with hers and still her head bobbed—she didn’t change pace or jar at the sudden filling of her throat. On and on she sucked and swallowed, 23

Lily Harlem

drawing out every last throb of my orgasm. It was excruciating bliss, an agony of ecstasy.

“Please,” I gasped. “I can’t…” It was too much. Never before had I been given a blowjob by a stranger, never before had oral sex made my entire body buckle or my cock become so sensitive before, during and after climax.

As if sensing my desperation, she slowly lifted her head. Her withdrawing lips made my body jerk then sag. She caught my spent dick in her hand, kissed it tenderly, as if soothing it, paying extra attention to the tip and my swollen slit.

I wanted to pull her up. Hold her tiny, naked body close to mine. Thank her for the wonderful thing she had just done and make
her
come with the same intensity. But I didn’t, I just sat there gasping for breath and hoping that at the height of my climax I hadn’t shouted out and disturbed other patrons of The Geisha Plate.

Finally, she broke away and stood.

Her body was lithe and agile in the small space, mine big and cumbersome, I was hot and panting for breath.

Heart hammering, I looked at her face. Her lipstick, so perfect and precise before, was hopelessly smudged, as was her chalky makeup, which now revealed the tan skin of her face. Her eyes shone. Was it approval of me or the satisfaction of a job well done?

I couldn’t be sure.

My mushed brain kicked back into gear. Hastily I tucked my softening cock away, shifting on the cushions and muttering when my knee knocked the table and my zipper proved fiddly.

She licked her lips and watched my movements and damn if my dick didn’t twitch with renewed arousal at the sight of her soft body and stiff nipples.

“I will send you in green tea,” she said quietly, “for you to enjoy before your journey home.”

Green tea?

24

Dessert

My mind whirred. We had just shared an intimate experience and I was being seen off with green-fucking-tea?

“But, I—what is your name?” I asked.

She clasped her hands near her navel and gave a small bow. “Good night, Mr.

Alan.”

“But, I…Please…”

She slipped between the curtains in a swift, silent movement. If it hadn’t been for the dampness in my pants and the sated weight in my groin, I could have almost believed that my
dessert
had been a delicious dream.

The trouble was dessert felt more like a starter. The start of something I really wanted to finish with my beautiful Geisha girl. Not that I was under any illusion she would fall into my bed and let me explore all the ways I could make
her
come with
my
tongue. But I at least wanted to know her name, and believe it or not, I also wanted to see her with clothes on. Get to know her a little. Such swift, anonymous sex, fantastic as it had been, was not really my style. I wanted to feel a female body pressed against mine all night. Breathe in the sweet scent of skin and hair, be warmed by fragile limbs and gentle curves.

After sipping half of the vile green tea, I exited the restaurant. The girl on the front desk bowed solemnly. If she knew what I’d just experienced she gave no hint of it.

I stepped outside. The night air was warm and the street still busy with late-night pub goers, taxis and buses.

The thought of home didn’t appeal. The thought of hanging around for my unusual dinner companion did.