Afternoon Delights

Iris whisper-yelled through the curtain, voice tight with amusement and urgency. “Hurry up, you two!”

I giggled; breathless; as Joe slowly lowered me from the mirror, my legs still trembling, thighs slick and sticky with the thick remnants of his release. My body buzzed from head to toe, every nerve singing from the way he’d claimed me against the glass. I bent to retrieve the black mini dress from the floor, holding it loosely against my flushed skin, careful not to let the creamy evidence dripping down my inner thighs stain the fabric. Joe had always left me satisfied; more than satisfied; but moments ago there had been something different in his control. He hadn’t just been chasing my orgasm; he’d been timing his own, holding back, drawing it out until the very second I shattered around him. The restraint, the precision; it made me ache all over again just thinking about it.

He pulled up his slacks with a low chuckle, then leaned in to kiss me softly; slow, lingering, tasting of salt and possession. “I love you,” I whispered against his lips as I slipped out of the dressing room.

Iris tugged me away, smiling, cheeks flushed, catching a glimpse of Joe’s naked torso through the parting curtain before it fell closed. I wondered how much she’d heard; my muffled cries against his palm, the rhythmic thud of my head against the mirror, his low grunts into my neck as he drove into me again and again. The thought sent a fresh pulse of heat between my legs.

Back in our shared changing room, Iris handed me a small packet of tissues from her purse with an arched brow.

“Clean yourself up, you little exhibitionist,” she teased, voice low and playful.

I laughed softly, dabbing at my thighs, then gently wiping between my legs where Joe’s cum still clung in warm, sticky trails. The sensation of it; his seed slowly leaking from me; made me clench involuntarily, a delicious reminder. I cinched the straps of the cocktail dress just as the saleswomen stepped back in for final measurements, their knowing smiles and barely suppressed giggles confirming what I already suspected: we hadn’t been nearly as discreet as we thought.

We changed into our street clothes; the boutique would deliver the dresses and Joe’s new suit to our suite at The Langham on Fifth Avenue later. Joe still had no idea about the hotel. When we stepped back into the Escalade, the leather seats cool against my still-sensitive skin, I let out a dramatic sigh.

“I’m starving,” I announced.

Joe’s smile was instant... He knew exactly what I meant. Good sex; really good sex; always left me ravenous. Every time he fucked me senseless, I emerged with an appetite that bordered on primal. The driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror and smirked.

“I know a good place.”

The Escalade pulled up to Valerie’s on 45th. Joe hesitated at the sight of the trendy, upscale spot; exposed brick, velvet booths; but Iris leaned across me, resting a hand on his knee.

“Hey,” she said gently, playfully scolding. “It’s not just us telling you to let it happen. Sabrina insisted you ‘enjoy yourself’ too.”

Joe took a slow breath, then nodded. We stepped inside.

Lunch was decadent, indulgent, perfect.

We started with ahi tuna tartare; silky, cool, melting on the tongue; and charred broccolini drizzled with lemon and chili oil. Joe ordered the New York strip; perfectly medium-rare, seared crust giving way to tender pink center; served with crisp frites, peppercorn compound butter, and a bright green garlic chimichurri. Iris and I shared the king salmon; flaky, buttery, kissed with a wild onion and citrus emulsion; alongside roasted cauliflower florets golden and crisp. Iris and I sipped piña coladas, the coconut and rum sweet on my tongue, while Joe nursed a watermelon gin and tonic; cool, refreshing, barely alcoholic. He didn't drink much; he always said it dulled his creativity, but Iris and I both knew the deeper truth. He’d watched family members drink themselves into early graves, and though he rarely spoke of it, the caution was there in every measured sip.

We finished with a shared chocolate lava cake; warm, rich, molten center spilling out when we broke it open. Iris and I playfully fed Joe spoonfuls, giggling as he pretended to protest, his lips closing around the fork. Watching as he took a bite from Irie made my stomach flip as I suddenly imagined him liking chocolate syrup off her chest. Later, he tried to sneak a glance at the bill, but the waiter waved him off with a smile.

“Already taken care of.”

The Escalade waited outside. When we climbed back in and the driver headed toward Fifth Avenue, Joe finally asked, “Where to now?”

Iris grinned. “We’ve got a suite waiting at The Langham.”

Joe let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think Sabrina really likes me, guys.”

We still had a couple of hours before the concert. Sabrina’s makeup team would stop by the suite for final touches. As Iris closed the door to our private section of the suite behind us; locking out the world; I turned to Joe.

“Think we have enough time for another round?” I teased, stepping close, fingers trailing down his chest.

Joe smiled; hands unbuckling his belt slowly; and lowered his zipper with deliberate calm.

“And you said I was insatiable.” I told him as I laughed, already reaching for him.

The door was locked.

The afternoon light slanted through the curtains.

And we had time.

The concert; and whatever came after; could wait a little longer.