Date Night [pt. II]

A hostess greets you quickly. A pretty twenty-something woman with light blonde hair and almond brown eyes. She’s attractive in a girl-next-door sort of way. If she’d lived in your neighborhood, you’d probably have developed a crush on her. You get the sense that she’s not the sort to have any children.

You politely tell her that you have a reservation. Meanwhile Sharon clings to your arm, sandwiching it between her huge breasts, which are almost bursting out of her low-cut dress.

You notice she’s caught the eye of more than one man. Some looked like they were here with their wives or girlfriends. It excites you, knowing that you have a woman who’s desirable not just from your point of view, but the greater male population. You’re not worried she’ll ever cheat on you, so you can relish the idea of getting one over all of those men who’d normally have a greater chance with Sharon than you would.

The hostess taps a touch screen behind her semi-desk and nods.

“Right, Thompson. Okay, it’ll just be a minute or so and we’ll have your table ready.”

“Thanks,” you say.

The hostess shows you a dazzling smile, with teeth so perfectly white you can’t help but picture her as a celebrity on the cover of one of those magazines you always see in the checkout line at the grocery store.

You and Sharon find your way to an area of the room slightly less sparsely populated than the others. It’s rather difficult considering how packed the place is, but you manage.

Sharon leans towards you and whispers, “They’re staring at us.”

You look around. She’s right. It’s not just the men looking at her, either. They’re looking at the two of you.

“So it would seem,” you nod. “Maybe they’re taking stock of our age difference. Whatever. Let them look. We’re both consenting adults.”

She smiles in a way that makes your heart do somersaults.

“It’s good that you’re confident. A lot of young men in your place wouldn’t be comfortable taking a woman my age out to dinner,” Sharon says, her sapphire eyes staring into yours.

You smirk.

Before you can say anything back, the hostess comes up to you.

“Your table is ready. I’m really sorry about the wait!” she intones in a chipper voice.

“It’s not a problem,” Sharon says, and you agree. It’d been less than five minutes.

“Great, follow me!”

She leads you and Sharon further into the restaurant. The place is absolutely packed. There doesn’t appear to be an empty table in sight. The main dining room is rather dimly lit, but at each table sits a flickering candle. Obviously Vito’s is going for a more intimate candle-lit dining feel. You can see why Sharon’s girlfriends were talking about this place.

It’s mostly couples at the tables. Young. Old. Chattering animatedly or silently eating their food. You see steaks, chicken parmigiana, something that looks like mussels in a bowl of linguine and sauce.

As you pass by one couple, you can’t help but notice that the woman seems rather glassy-eyed and is just staring off into nothing. She’s blonde and busty, and has a daringly low-cut dress to show off her assets.

“Sarah?” the man leans across the table and snaps his fingers. “Sarah, you there?”

The woman doesn’t respond. Just keeps staring straight ahead. Her mouth droops open slightly and she blinks occasionally.

The man sags back in his seat.

“Wonderful. You couldn’t wait until we got home,” he says sardonically. He whips out his phone and begins tapping at the screen.

You want to walk over there. Say a few words to the woman. Get her to memorize your cellphone number. Have her call you the next time she falls into a trance.

“John. Are you coming?”

You turn to see Sharon giving you a concerned look. The hostess patiently waits behind her.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You start following them again.

Your mind keeps conjuring up images of the woman at that table. It’s strange, but you can’t help but feel some sort of connection to her. You need to talk to her. Change her. She’s there, open, waiting for you to reshape her life in whatever way you please.

But you can’t take advantage of her now. And you’ll likely never see her again.

The hostess stops in the far corner of the room, ushering the two of you to a square table with a seat on each side.

You and Sharon sit down opposite each other. The table’s short enough that you could reach over and touch her shoulder without getting out of your seat. Plates, silverware, water and wine glasses are arranged immaculately in front of you.

“Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy!” the hostess, whose name you hadn’t bothered to read off her nametag, makes her exit.

“Hm,” you pick up a laminated menu off the table and start scanning through it. You blink.

What the fuck? Twenty-three dollars for a salad? Are they serious? If you and Sharon each get an appetizer or a salad, you’ll be down almost half of the money you’d brought here, and that was before you even ordered drinks!

“Something wrong?” Sharon asks.

You look up at her. Her beautiful eyes glimmer with barely-concealed amusement.

“No,” you lie.

She reaches a hand across the table and grasps yours. Her skin is so soft and smooth. Not like yours.

“Come on… honey,” her smile widens after she says the word, like she’s enjoying a private joke at your expense. “You can tell me anything.”

You sigh, sitting back in your seat with a dejected look on your face.

“Okay, fine. Everything here’s obnoxiously expensive. Are you happy now?”

You expect her to look hurt or annoyed. Instead, she laughs. It’d be really cute if you didn’t feel like she was making fun of you.

Irritated, you ask, “What’s so funny?”

She snorts. “Nothing. It’s just, I kind of expected something like this would happen and you’d have this notion that you’d have to pay for everything. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But,” you search for the words you’re looking for. Sharon waits patiently. Eventually you find them. “Isn’t the guy supposed to at least pick up some of the tab?”

Sharon shrugs ambivalently. “That depends on what your values are. What do you think should happen in an ideal world?”

In an ideal world you’d have Sharon bent over the dinner table while you were balls deep in her pussy.

“I used to think men were supposed to pay for everything. Open doors. Stuff like that.”

Sharon leans over the table, drawing your gaze to her ample boob window.

“What changed?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I guess I got older and realized that the fairy tales I’d read as a kid weren’t really a good representation of reality.”

Sharon hums to herself.

“I see. You haven’t answered my question.”

You nod. “All right. Honestly, I think men and women should split up the bill. We’re equal now, right? At least, we’re supposed to be.”

“We are,” Sharon agrees. She squeezes your hand. “I’m not the sort of woman who expects the man to pay for everything, nor am I the kind of person who thinks everything should go my way. Relationships are built on compromise. Give and take. I understand you don’t have a job yet, so I don’t expect you to pay for anything tonight. If you want to, though, I won’t stop you.”

You stare at her for a long moment. You feel like Mom’s hundred dollar bill is burning a hole in your pocket.

Before you can say anything, you’re interrupted by the appearance of a woman in a black vest and tie with a white shirt underneath. She has short, striking red hair done up in a bun. Her eyes are blue, and you glimpse a hard, non-nonsense edge to her stare. She’s gorgeous otherwise. She’s likely in her late twenties or early thirties, though she could easily pass for a woman just getting into her mid-twenties. You can’t resist giving her body a once-over. The unflattering formal attire she wears does little to hide her absolutely magnificent body. Large breasts stretch the material of her vest and shirt, and below, her hips flare out to an almost insane degree. Her name tag reads, “Dayna.”

You notice she’s not wearing a wedding ring.

“Hello,” she begins. Her icy eyes trail over you, narrowing slightly. Shit. Has she noticed you checking her out? She plasters a smile on her face that looks anything but genuine. “I’m Dayna. I’ll be helping you tonight. Have either of you had the opportunity to look at the wine menu?”

“Yes,” Sharon says. “We’ll each have a glass of this red wine right here.”

She holds up her menu for Dayna to look at and points to something on it. Dayna nods. “An excellent choice. I’ll have it brought out to you very soon. Do you want any appetizers in the meantime?”

Oh, right, you were supposed to order food. You scan the list frantically, looking for something you might be in the mood for.

“Can you come back in a few minutes? My boyfriend and I just sat down,” Sharon comes to your rescue.

Dayna shoots you a quick glance before nodding at Sharon. “Of course. I’ll be right back with the wine.”

The redhead gives you a parting look before strutting away from your table. Your eyes zero in on her ass. Fuck. It’s huge and round. Those black pants she wears look like they can barely contain that absolute fucking dump truck.

Sharon clears her throat.

You turn your head to face your date so fast you think you might have hurt your neck.

“So,” a young man walks up to your table in the middle of Sharon’s sentence and fills up the water glasses.

You mutter a thanks, but the busboy leaves without a word.

Sharon takes a tip of her water.

“Sorry about that,” you say. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Her lips curl upward in amusement.

“It’s okay. You’re a young man. It’s natural for you to have the urge to stare at whatever woman catches your fancy. And that’s fine. Just as long as you don’t act on it,” she says.

You chuckle.

“I don’t think you’re in any danger of Dayna reciprocating anything from me if I were stupid enough to try.”

Sharon frowns and sets her glass down.

“Why not?” she asks, genuine confusion in her tone.

You blink.

“Well, for one, I’m nineteen. She’s like, older. Probably has her life together. There’s no way she’d ever give me the time of day.”

Sharon pinches her nose. Oh.

“And now I realize how stupid I just sounded,” you mutter. “I’m younger than you and you don’t have a problem with it.”

Sharon rolls her eyes. “That’s true, but I’d rather not be reminded of my age, if it’s all the same to you.”

You chuckle.

“Fine. So, older women. They dig me. That’s what you’re trying to say?”

Sharon giggles.

“No, stop being ridiculous,” she gives your hand a playful slap. “I’m only saying that you shouldn’t just judge a woman's preferences based on her age or looks. That’s all.”

“Fine. Fair enough. Consider me much more open-minded and less judgmental,” you grab your glass and take a sip of cold water. You immediately feel relaxed. You’re suddenly struck by how tranquil it is here despite the air of formality and how crowded the place is. The ambient voices in the background aren’t loud enough to make you have to raise your voice.

Dayna makes her way back to your table carrying two small open-top glass containers. Maroon liquid swishes within them. You try not to stare at her and fail miserably. Her tits are so big. Where does she get off showing them off like that?

The server’s icy-blue eyes meet yours again as she pours you a glass of wine. Her plush lips are parted slightly, and you catch a flash of her pink tongue. She looks away, leaning over slightly to pour Sharon’s glass. Your eyes fall to Dayna’s ass again. It’s practically jutting out in your direction. Damn, you really want to touch her.

Sharon’s foot brushes up against your leg. You look away from Dayna just as she finishes pouring Sharon’s glass.

“Have you two thought about what you’d like for an appetizer or do you need more time?” Dayna asks. She looks at you again.

“I think we’re ready,” you say. “Sharon?”

Your girlfriend (it feels fucking amazing to be able to call her that) nods. “Yes. I’ll have the Greek salad.”

Dayna nods and turns to you expectantly.

“Can I have the chicken orzo soup?” you say. You can never go wrong with a bowl of nice hot soup. You’ve been craving one ever since you saw it on the menu. For seventeen dollars, it’d better be the most amazing soup you’ve ever tasted.

“Sure,” Dayna’s lips twitch upward slightly. “I’ll have those out for you very soon.”

With that, she leaves, disappearing someplace else in the restaurant.

“She seems nice,” you say.

Sharon grins.

“I think you have a type.”

“Oh?” you say. “You’ve got me all figured out then?”

“Mhm,” she touches your leg with her foot again.

“So tell me, then. What’s my type?”

“You like older women.”

You shrug. “I won’t deny that. But I only like a certain type of older woman.”

“Divorcées?” she crosses her arms beneath her breasts, squashing them into that fantastic boob window of hers. God, you can’t wait to get back to her house and fuck her.

“Mothers.”

She blinks. “Huh. I suppose that fits too. Do you think Dayna has any children?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Maybe.”

“Why don’t you ask her when she gets back?” Sharon says.

You chuckle.

“You mean, just ask her? Isn’t that a little forward?”

Sharon shrugs. The movement causes her tits to jiggle enticingly.

“Well, if you ask her straight off the bat, it might be. She may even take offense to it,” her foot inches up your leg. What is she doing down there? “You have to lead up to it. You could start by introducing yourself.”

You stare at her.

“Why are you so invested in the idea of me talking to Dayna?”

She meets your gaze levelly.

“Because I think it could be good for recovery. You don’t have to talk to her specifically if it makes you uncomfortable. But you ought to find someone and just try to get to know them. Learn their hobbies and interests. Who knows? You might even make a few friends, and we all could use more of those,” she says, her blue eyes looking at you clinically. “You don’t have to try to be Dayna’s friend. Just talk to her. Ask her some questions and see what happens.”

You take a sip of your wine to avoid answering right away. It’s smooth and tasty. Sharon continues watching you. It’s strange. A part of you knows she’s trying to psychoanalyze you, that she’s continuing your informal therapy. At the same time, her foot is rubbing up and down your leg, and there’s clearly something very sexual about the way she intermittently leans forward more than necessary to scoop up her glass, and the way she tilts the glass up and drinks it ever so slowly, showing off neck.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally.

That seems to satisfy her. She gives you a warm smile.

“That’s all I ask at the end of the day.” She takes a sip of her own wine. “Hm. Not bad.”

Good, she likes it. Now to find something to distract her so she doesn’t try to get you to be more social.

“I wanted to circle back to what we were talking about when we first got in the restaurant.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“You mean when I said you were brave for taking an older woman out to dinner?”

Nodding, you reply, “Yeah.”

She looks at you curiously.

“Okay, sure. What did you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath.

“Do you think Jared would have had the courage to ask you out to dinner? I mean, if the two of you weren’t related.”

Her face scrunches up in distaste. Shit, why’d you ask her that? Because you wanted to get her to stop trying to convince you to talk to Dayna, that’s why.

“It’s actually a little uncomfortable to think about him that way. Our relationship notwithstanding, Jared’s not exactly a model human being. The idea of allowing someone as mean and vile as him to take me out to dinner is just contrary to who I am as a person. I wouldn’t even give him the time of day,” she mutters. “But for the sake of your recovery I’ll try to humor you. I don’t think Jared’s the sort of person I’d imagine having the courage to ask someone like me to dinner. He’d probably be worried about his friends seeing some old hag on his arm.”

“Wow, you really have a low opinion of him.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Is that so surprising? He spent God knows how long hurting the man I care about. My patient. My… my boyfriend,” she licks her lips. “If I didn’t feel at least partially responsible for his behavior considering I raised him, I’d probably dislike him a lot more.”

“Do you love him?” you can’t help but ask. You have a feeling she does, but you’d still like to hear what she has to say.

She nods immediately.

“Of course I do. He’s my son. There’ll always be a part of me that loves him unconditionally, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him as a person or even want to spend time with him, if that makes sense.”

You take another sip of your wine. Sharon mimics you.

“So, what are you going to do when he comes home from college? Will he still be welcome in your house or are you going to **** him to live someplace else?”

Sharon gets a far-off look in her face.

“I still haven’t decided yet,” she says after a long pause. “I used to be pretty lonely. I’ve had the house to myself since the divorce. Doug and I split up right after Jared went to college. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Jared to go stay with his father.”

Nodding, you reply, “I think that’d be a great idea. At least until you’re ready to see him again.”

Sharon nods soberly, and the conversation dies off. That won’t do.

“So, you used to be lonely? What changed?” you ask.

Her lips quirk upwards as she stares at you.

“A very nice young man walked up to me at the mall and looked after me during my daily trance. He’s spent a lot of time with me since then, even spending a night at my house,” she bites her lip. “If he were to do something like that again, I wouldn’t say no.”

Your manhood throbs in your pants.

“Sharon, are you asking me to spend the night with you?”

She shakes her head.

“No, I’m telling you you’re welcome to spend the night with me whenever you want.”

You stare at her. Of all the things you’d expected her to say, you’d never once thought she’d give you an open invitation to drop by her house whenever you pleased.

“I can do that?”

You must have had a particularly dumbstruck look on your face. Sharon gives you an exasperated smile.

“God, I need to spell it out for you, don’t I? That’s fine. I keep forgetting how young you are,” she says. “Yes, you can come over to my house whenever you want. Treat it as your home away from home. If you want, you can have one of my dressers to put your clothes in. Or better yet, just use Jared’s dressers since I doubt he’ll be staying there anytime soon. When we get back to my house, I’ll give you my spare key. You can just let yourself in whenever you want. Maybe one night you’ll surprise me.”

Her face flushes bright red. She takes a long gulp of her wine. “Mm.”

“That sounds awesome,” you say. “You’re amazing, Sharon.”

She blushes even harder somehow.

“Stop it.”

“No, I mean it,” you clasp her hand in yours. “You’re a beautiful, smart, incredible woman. I know it sounds cheesy, but legitimately feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

She stares at you for a long moment. Then she takes another sip of her wine.

“You’re sweet,” she sets the glass on the table. “I think I got lucky too, when you bumped into me in the mall.”

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, but in reality is probably less than a minute.

You’re interrupted by the return of Dayna. She’s carrying a plate and something that looks like a weird cross between a plate and a bowl. The voluptuous redheaded older woman places the salad in front of Sharon before giving you your steaming soup. The scent of the broth and chicken reaches your nostrils, making your mouth water. Her eyes meet yours, and suddenly you feel a courage you hadn’t felt before.

“Hey. Dayna, right?”

The woman nods. “Mhm.”

“I’m John. That’s my girlfriend Sharon.”

Dayna looks between the two of you. A flicker of confusion passes in her face, but she masks it immediately.

“Nice to meet you. Are you celebrating anything?”

“Yes,” Sharon says, grinning. “Our first date.”

Dayna raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh really, this is your first date?”

The server looks at you again, and you get the strange sense that she approves of you somehow.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’ve kind of been circling each other for a while and this is more of a way to make it official, if you know what I mean.”

Dayna smiles, genuinely this time, you think. It makes her look even more beautiful.

“I think I do.”

“You’ll never guess how we met,” Sharon said.

Dayna looks at Sharon.

“How’d you meet? Is it a funny story?” she crosses her arms beneath her breasts. The material of her shirt and vest strain even more to contain her breasts as she squashes them upwards.

Your girlfriend smiles. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it funny. I was… entranced at the time.”

Dayna’s eyebrows seem to go up to her hairline.

“You mean…”

“Yes, I was in one of my daily hypnotic trances. Got to love being a mother, right?” Sharon says.

“Oh, I know,” Dayna answers immediately. “I’ve got two little ones at home. When I first had them it was hard to adjust to it. You’d never think losing five minutes of your day wouldn’t be a big deal, but…”

Your cock throbs. So, Dayna’s a mother?

“It really is,” Sharon says. “Most men don’t even realize.”

“I know, right?” Dayna gets more animated, gesticulating as she speaks. “My ex complained about it a lot. Said it was creeping him out.”

Sharon’s face falls.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Dayna waves her off.

“It’s no big deal. I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it. Too late for that now,” she sighs, then looks behind her for a few seconds before glancing back at Sharon. “So, you said you two met while you were hypnotized. I’m a little curious how that happened.”

You listen as Sharon enthusiastically recounts her time at the mall. How she’d sat down on a bench to take a short break from shopping and people-watch when the next thing she knew, you were sitting right next to her making sure no one touched her stuff.

“Huh,” Dayna gives you a considering look. “You’re probably the first man I’ve met who wasn’t at least weirded out by the whole maternal trance thing.”

You smile. If she knew that the whole thing had been your idea, she’d probably be singing a different tune.

“I honestly don’t understand what the big deal is for most guys. It’s part of female biology, right? It’s not like you can help it so I might as well accept it and try to help out if I can.”

Dayna raises her eyebrows. She looks over at Sharon, who’s smiling at you fondly.

“I’d hold on to this one if I were you,” she says.

“I intend to,” Sharon replies, her voice brimming with pride.

Dayna chuckles.

“Okay, so are you two ready to…” she trails off. Her blue eyes lose all their hardness. They seem to stare past you, into nothingness. Her lips part slightly.

“Dayna?” Sharon frowns. “Are you okay?”

Dayna doesn’t reply.

“I think she’s hypnotized.”

Sharon looks at you and then stares at Dayna for a long moment.

“You’re right,” she mutters softly, all amusement gone from her voice.

You glance around the room. No one seems to be looking in your direction, but you’re still in a public place. And Sharon’s sitting across from you. Not exactly the ideal situation for brainwashing a fresh mother into your burgeoning harem.

But, as your eyes rove up and down Dayna’s voluptuous, unresponsive body, you don’t know how you’ll be able to forgive yourself if you miss an opportunity like this.

What do you do?

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/LLation