Dinner Party, Part 2

Marc wasn’t sure whether he was slightly tickled at the awkwardness of the dinner, or a little annoyed. Of course, he acted the polite guest and gave Sinead her due compliments on the dinner - the steak was good, and the potatoes were nice and crisp, but the bacon around the asparagus had gone a little tough. Both of the women also seemed to relax a great deal once the wine was uncorked. Jules in particular raised her eyebrows at the first sip.

Marc sat back for the beginning of the meal, letting Sinead weave her little tale of partnering with him. He noticed that she didn’t tell any overt lies to her former partner, and apparently very good friend, but she understandably downplayed the arrangement as a whole. By the time Jules seemed mollified, Marc was helpfully offering his own insights into what they had discovered so far.

“Alright, fine,” Jules finally said, gesturing with her steak knife in a concerningly cavalier way considering how sharp it was. “I’ll make this whole thing disappear in the background, at least for as long as I can. But, I have a serious question.”

“What?” Sinead asked.

“Are you two fucking?”

Marc chuckled softly, but the look in Sinead’s eyes of momentary panic concerned him. Moreover, he was annoyed by her response.

“Are you kidding me?” Sinead asked. “This, us two? That wouldn’t ever work. Way too different, and it would be super weird. Seriously, I’d rather go on a date with your cousin again.”

Marc clenched his teeth, just once, and then smiled. “Pardon, Detective, but I can assure you that the Detective and I have not engaged in sexual intercourse.”

“I had to ask,” Jules said with a shrug.

If Marc didn’t like how Sinead had reacted in the moment, he really didn’t like her satisfied sigh at having pulled one over on Jules at the expense of Marc’s ego. She seemed to have forgotten who exactly was wielding the leverage and power between them, which meant a lesson was in order.

“Detective, I was wondering what your ancestry is?” Marc asked Jules. “Usually I am fairly astute at identifying Asian heritage, but your striking features illude me.”

“Please, drop the Detective crap,” Jules said. “I’m off duty. Just call me Jules. And my family is Japanese-Canadian.”

“日本に旅行したことがありますか?” Marc asked.

Jules’ eyes widened a little, and Sinead’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, I’m very rusty at Japanese,” Jules said. “Did you ask if I’ve travelled there?”

“I did,” Marc said. “And it was likely my accent. I’ve done business with some Japanese firms and dabbled on Rosetta Stone, but I’m certainly not conversationally fluent.”

“I should probably hop on that myself,” Jules sighed. “My parents have been bothering me to take a vacation and go back with them to see extended family. Have you been?”

Marc put on a charm offensive. He had been, twice, though hadn’t been able to explore nearly as much as he would have liked. He talked about the streets of Tokyo, and some of the interesting restaurants he’d eaten at. That led to talking about travel in general and he really took control of the conversation. And he could tell that, at first, Sinead was just happy things were going well and that she wasn’t in deep shit with Jules.

But then Sinead started to notice other things. Her eyes widened a little when Jules touched Marc’s arm. She noticed that he was paying most of his attention to Jules. Her eyes lingered when Marc took Jules’ hand and traced a map on it, describing the time that he was diving around a wreck in the Mediterranean.

The first bottle of wine disappeared, and Sinead poured herself a large glass from the second. She suggested they move to her little living area to relax, but Marc insisted that he help by cleaning up, and Jules agreed, and soon the three of them were in the kitchen together washing dishes.

That was when Sinead’s jealousy started to really rise, and Marc grinned internally as the booze shed some of her inhibitions.

Sinead became touchy and flirty. She reached around him, brushing her front against his back. She touched his lower back, and even his ass briefly. She giggled at anything that had a semblance of a punchline to it and played with her hair more. And Sinead wasn’t the only one, Jules was certainly flirting back lightly with him as well as he paid her attention, spurning Sinead.

Finally, with the kitchen clean, Marc poured the last of the second bottle of wine he had brought for them both and got them sitting down on the couch.

“Mes excuses, ladies, but unfortunately I cannot extend this lovely evening any longer,” Marc said with a real sigh. “You are both wonderful company, and I regret that I have a very busy day tomorrow. Unfortunately, I must take my leave.”

They both made the polite ‘Oh, that’s too bad’ noises, and Jules stood and shook his hand with both of hers, then pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for looking out for her,” she whispered in Marc’s ear, then kissed his cheek. As she pulled away she winked at him as well.

“I’ll walk you out,” Sinead said, then turned to Jules. “Be right back.”

Sinead lingered as Marc got his loafers on, collected his coat, and then followed him out into the hallway of the apartment building.

“What was that?” Sinead hissed quietly, not wanting to be heard by Jules or any of her neighbours.

“That was a lovely dinner, ma petite rebelle,” Marc said quietly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Not the dinner, the… the fucking flirting,” she whispered.

Marc raised one eyebrow. “Is Jules seeing someone? Should I not have flirted with her?”

Sinead worked her jaw for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, and the spark of anger in her eyes was palpable.

“Shhh, Sinead,” Marc said soothingly, taking her hand for a moment. It was the first time he had used her name all night, another little trick that had certainly been setting her on edge. “Now, show me.”

“Show you?” Sinead asked, screwing up her face in confusion.

“You know,” Marc said. “And don’t deny it. You know what I expected the next time I saw you.”

Sinead flushed a lovely pink that almost made her freckles disappear. “Not here.”

“Exactly here,” Marc said. “Unless you want to step back inside and show me in front of Jules.”

Sinead swallowed, eyes darting up and down the empty hallway. “Shit,” she muttered. Then she stepped forward, right against him, and took his hand and put it on her lower back before sliding it under the waistband of her black leggings. Marc felt his palm pass over her warm ass cheeks, directed by her hand on his, and her fingers directed his between the cheeks to feel the solid little base of the buttplug she had in.

“The necklace looks good on you,” he said with a smile as he tapped lightly on the base of the plug. “C’est bien, ma petite rebelle. I will see you again soon when I have more news for you.”

He left her there in the hallway. He wanted more, but he knew he was leaving her wanting even more than he did.

And he had another appointment for the evening. All Sinead had was awkward questions and frustration waiting for her in her apartment.

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