Lamorello’s Italian Eatery

After swallowing my pride with my gaff starting the car we drive in relative silence the twenty minutes to Lamorello’s. Only a couple times do my eyes wander across to my sister-in-laws thighs. Clearly she is displaying them for me as her dress slides most of the way up her toned thighs and she does nothing to correct or prevent further slippage.

As we pull into the parking lot I steal one final glance at her legs and they do not disappoint. Her dress has ridden up to the point where if I were to lean forward only slightly I would be able to describe the crotch of her panties in fine detail. Her legs are picture perfect, while the muscle tone is clearly visible, they are relaxed and the curves exude the allure of a woman looking to go home with her mate.

“Why do you call this place Lou’s? Is that the name of the owner or something. It’s called Lamorello’s not Lou’s”

I turn my gaze from the parking lot to respond to Jamie and see she has finally repositioned her dress. “Actually no. It’s a joke I have with the owner whose name is Mauricio.”

“Well that’s rather la.... interesting, why don’t we go inside.”

With a number of groups ahead of us I squeeze through to ensure our names are on the list. I engage Jamie in some idle chat while we wait for our table when a loud portly gentleman pushes his way through the crowd at the door. “Lou, how’s it going my friend? It seems business is good.”

A musical baritone underlaid with a thick Italian accent pipes up, “Yes yes yes my friend, I saw you on the cameras. You come sit at the chefs table or you will be here to long. You have game tonight no?” Quickly he looses interest in me and he turns to speak with my companion, “Oh miss Jennifer you look absolutely stunning tonight. Maybe I steal you away while this ogre beats his head on the glass tonight?” Turning away from the pair of us he looks to the hostess who gives him a small nods which he then turns back into the crowd and makes as though he wants us to follow him.

As I start to weave my way through the wake that Mauricio makes Jamie takes my hand to lead her through as well. “The chefs table is back here beside the kitchen, it was a little office, but I use it now for the staff and all the VIP’s and any couple needing some privacy during diner.” He elbows me suggestively at the last point.

“Thank you for calling me...”, I start.

“You are no VIP my friend, but this lovely specimen you somehow entrapped. She is a VIP amongst VIP’s. It is for her I let you enjoy my best table and my best food. I shall bring you some freshly hand pressed and rolled cannelloni stuffed with a blend of lamb, Gouda, and some other things we have in the kitchen. Together with some steamed asparagus layered in a yellow hollandaise sauce and a fresh loaf of my best sourdough bread.” The melodic voice cuts me off playfully flirting with the woman he undoubtedly thinks is my wife.

With Jamie and I standing now at the private table I realize that absently we held hands through the crowd and continue to hold hands now. Blindly I am caressing her hand with my own fingertips in an affectionate way which seems to have a put a smile on her. With the table being a horseshoe bench I lead Jamie to one side and usher her into her spot. She proceeds to continue sliding in and then motions for me to sit in beside her.

Playfully I reply to Mauricio before Jamie looses her mind about health food again, “Listen you smooth little smart ass, this is MY date! I don’t think you wanna mess with her. I don’t doubt for a sec that she could tune us both in without breaking a sweat. And to fuel that kind of amazing machine she wants something a little more Mediterranean and a bit less Italian. You get me?”

“Perfectly my friend.” Reaching down he takes Jamie’s hand gently and eloquently places a kiss on the back then promptly excuses himself.