Flirt back with Rebecca while Rick is distracted by the menu, testing her reaction.

As Rick becomes engrossed in the extensive wine list, his attention momentarily diverted by the sommelier's enthusiastic descriptions of rare vintages, you seize the opportunity to lean toward Rebecca. Your enhanced breasts press against the edge of the table, sending a delicious tingle through your sensitized nipples.

"It's like, so weird but nice that we're practically sisters now," you whisper with a conspiratorial giggle. Your chestnut pigtails bounce as you tilt your head, eyes wide with innocent mischief. "I mean, we both call him 'Daddy,' right?"

Rebecca's perfectly manicured hand freezes midway to her wine glass, her pupils visibly dilating. A flush creeps up her elegant neck, spreading across her cheeks like watercolor on wet paper.

"I... I don't call him that," she whispers back, but her voice has dropped an octave, taking on a husky quality. "Not in the way you do."

You lean closer still, your perfume mingling with hers across the intimate space. "Maybe you should try it sometime," you suggest, your simplified mind finding nothing inappropriate about the suggestion. "He really likes it, especially when he's inside you."

Rebecca's breath catches audibly. Her tongue darts out to wet her suddenly dry lips.

"And oh my God," you continue, your voice a breathy whisper of excitement, "his cock is just so, like, perfect? It's super thick, you know? Like, my fingers don't even go all the way around it!" You demonstrate with your hand, making an exaggerated circle. "And when he's really turned on, it gets this little curve that hits exactly the right spot when I'm bouncing on top and—"

You catch yourself mid-sentence, a flicker of your former intellect briefly surfacing through your bimbofication. Your freckled cheeks burn bright red as you realize what you're saying.

"Oh! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" you gasp, pressing your fingertips to your mouth. "That was totally inappropriate! I promised not to share personal stuff and here I am talking about your dad's... I mean, about private things!"

But Rebecca isn't offended. Far from it. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her normally composed demeanor cracking like thin ice under pressure. Her elegant fingers have tightened around her napkin, knuckles white with tension.

"Don't apologize," she murmurs, her gaze dropping momentarily to your cleavage before returning to your face with newfound intensity. "I... I've never thought about him that way before, but the way you describe it..."

She leans closer, her voice dropping to ensure only you can hear. "Does he really make you feel that good? When he's... inside you?"

The genuinely curious, almost hungry expression on her face takes you by surprise. Before you can answer, Rick returns his attention to the table, oblivious to the charged exchange.

"Decided on the beef Wellington, princess?" he asks, his large hand settling possessively on your thigh under the table. "Or should I order for you?"

Rebecca watches his hand disappear beneath the tablecloth, her eyes darkening with something beyond simple jealousy. When she looks back up at you, there's a new understanding between you – something primal and unspoken that your simplified mind can't fully comprehend but instinctively recognizes.

"Actually, Daddy," Rebecca says, the word landing with deliberate weight as she maintains eye contact with you, "I was just telling Ashley about the chef's special tonight. Something... indulgent that isn't on the menu."

Rick beams with paternal pride, completely missing the undercurrent. "That's my girl, always in the know. What do you think, princess? Want to try Rebecca's special recommendation?"

"Yes, Daddy," you reply automatically, the words sending a visible shiver through Rebecca's body. "I'll try anything once."

20:00 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Lumière Restaurant, Mayfair, London