A Night Out

Christal talks you into going out to dinner so that she can show the world that she’s going to be married soon.

You choose the Italian restaurant the two of you frequent because you know that the owners, a sweet couple of men from northern Italy, will make a fuss over your beautiful bride-to-be.

At 8 pm that Sunday evening, you walk into your favorite restaurant with Christal.

Few people notice you in your slacks and green shirt.

All eyes are focused on the radiant Christal.

She has her curls piled on her head in a manner that screams classical beauty. She is wearing her grandmother’s pearl necklace and her best stiletto heels. She wants as little as possible to take attention away from the engagement ring that is now attached to her pretty clit, so she is otherwise naked. She makes a small happy sound whenever you give the attached leash a playful tug.

Silvio Fabbri, the tall dark-haired submissive co-owner of the restaurant, greets you at the door. He gives the mostly naked Christal an excited hug when he sees you walk your fiancé in on her leash. Silvio tells a female server to run back to the kitchen for his husband, Flavio Fabbri. The short, muscular, blond chef comes out and also gives Christal a warm congratulatory hug.

You are taken to your favorite table where a bottle of their best wine is waiting for you. You tell them that they did not have to treat you, but Flavio shakes his head.

“The wine is not from us,” he says. “It’s from her.” He points to a woman at a nearby table.

She is stunning. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she was your college roommate’s sister, but Rafael Mendoza was the second of four brothers with no sister. The last time you’d seen Rafe, the submissive man had moved back home to Arizona, where he hoped to find his dream man.

As you approach the beautiful Latina’s table with Christal in tow, she turns to look at you with a smile. She even has the same dark green eyes that often made people think Rafe was Italian, not Tejano.

“Thank you for the wine,” you say. You look at the tall curvy woman. “I apologize if I sound rude, but do I know you?”

She gives you a smile that almost makes you temporarily forget you’re holding your fiancé’s leash.

Her light alto voice comes out in a familiar Houston accent. “I hope so,” she says. “With interest, you owe me a little over $1,000 for getting your car fixed after graduation.”

Your jaw feels like it's going to hit the floor.

“Rafe!” you exclaim.