Beneath the table

A few nights ago the Potter had been in town and he’d invited Lora out for dinner. She couldn’t make it so she suggested to him that I would enjoy his company instead. I was more than happy to join him. I admit to having more front than Brighton sometimes, because when he called me to make arrangements I asked if I could bring along my friend. Chloe had heard about my exploits at the opera and was more than a little expectant to witness some kind of re-enactment.

He took us to a small but rather swanky French restaurant just north of Oxford Street: it was all etched mirrors, stiffly starched table-cloths and faded Parisian grandeur and I’m glad that me and the teenager had made an effort when we were getting ready. Both of us were wearing the most elegant things in our wardrobes (I will admit that the teenager did have to borrow a few of my clothes) and when we left my flat I thought we each looked rather chic. The food, wine and company were all divine. I was rather proud of Chloe for not being at all intimidated by the occasion. The older gentleman was quite superb at putting the young girl at ease. He made her giggle a number of times. I couldn't help but notice that she stared at his big strong fingers from time to time and when she did so, she blushed deeply.

Being an old friend of Lora’s family, he knew that she’d come out as a lesbian. Of course he was far too sophisticated to mention it outright, but we both detected his feeling of nostalgia about the passing of a time where he would be able to finger her pussy. I don’t think it was the time or the place to say that Lora wasn’t permanently turning her back on opportunities to enjoy a dick (or two) – that would have only complicated matters.

“Do you know” I asked, “that neither of us are wearing any knickers?”

Chloe wriggled in her seat as she tried to put up the hem of her skirt beneath the table as the waiter brought us our puddings. I could tell from the fact that the Potter ate his crème caramel with his left hand, and from watching the expression on the teenager’s face, that the fingers of older gentleman’s right hand were exploring her cunt.