Dinner and a dump

Chapter 8

The maître d’ at Le Jardin raised a judgmental eyebrow as Don guided the disheveled woman in the oversized jacket through the elegant dining room, but a generous tip and Don’s police badge smoothed the way to a private corner table. Candlelight flickered across white tablecloths and crystal glasses. Dick lowered himself into the chair with a heavy plop, legs spread wide in classic male fashion, the short skirt riding up his thighs. He immediately shrugged off the jacket, letting Sally’s generous cleavage strain against the half-buttoned blouse once more.

Don sat across from him, still visibly shaken. “Sally, please… just talk to me. What’s going on?”

Dick picked up the menu, scanning it with a grunt before ordering in his gravelly voice. “Steak, medium rare, large baked potato, extra butter. And a bottle of your best red wine.” He glanced at Don. “You’ll have the same, yes? None of that delicate salad nonsense tonight.”

The waiter hesitated but departed. As soon as the wine arrived, Dick poured himself a generous glass and downed half of it in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ah, that hits the spot. You know, Don, the female palate is remarkably sensitive, yet this form processes **** with surprising efficiency. Already feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through the lower abdomen.”

Don watched him with growing unease. “You’re eating like… well, not like yourself. And that voice. Sally, did something happen to your mind?”

Dick leaned back, one hand idly cupping the underside of his left breast as he adjusted its weight, studying the sensation with academic interest. “Fascinating differences, really. The center of gravity is entirely shifted forward and upward due to these mammary glands. They sway, they bounce, they demand constant micro-adjustments. And the hips—wider pelvic structure forces a natural side-to-side gait that I must say feels rather… stimulating after prolonged movement.” He took another long sip of wine, cheeks flushing. “Then there’s the internal anatomy. So much more… responsive. Nerve endings in places I never fully appreciated before. The constant awareness of emptiness, or fullness, depending on recent activity.”

He signaled for the waiter to refill his glass, already on his second. The wine loosened his tongue further. “Take this posterior region, for instance. Plump, soft, highly sensitive to pressure. Sitting here, I can feel every contour of the chair. Quite different from the more compact male arrangement. And don’t get me started on the undergarments. This thong continues its explorations at regular intervals.” He shifted in his seat and casually reached beneath the table to tug it free again, humming thoughtfully.

Don’s face grew paler with every word. Their food arrived, and Dick attacked the steak with knife and fork held like tools, chewing openly while continuing his lecture. “You see, Don, this body is a prime specimen—ample, fertile, curvaceous. Built for certain biological imperatives that a man like me simply doesn’t align with in the conventional sense. The standard romantic and physical norms… they don’t mesh well here.”

Don set his fork down, voice cracking. “Sally… what are you saying?”

Dick drained another glass, eyes glassy from the wine. He leaned forward, breasts resting heavily on the table edge. “I don’t think we should continue together, Don. Not in the usual way. A fine, ample-bodied, fertile woman like this and a straightforward fellow such as yourself—we simply don’t fit the standard normative framework anymore. The dynamics have shifted rather dramatically.”

Don looked crushed, eyes glistening with hurt and confusion. “Baby… I love you. Whatever’s happening, we can fix it. Please don’t say that.”

Dick observed Don’s reaction with tipsy detachment, then offered a lopsided, almost sympathetic smile. “There, there. No need for despair just yet.” He glanced around to ensure relative privacy, then added in a lower, conspiratorial tone, “If you wish, however… you may massage these breasts and my butt one more time. For old times’ sake. Consider it a final empirical observation between us.”

Don stared at him, torn between heartbreak and bewildered longing, the elegant restaurant suddenly feeling far too public for such an offer.

End Chapter