The Dinner Dates

We sit across from one another at the restaurant. You’re wearing a long dark dress with a white sweater open at the front. The top of the dress isn’t too low, but it doesn’t stop me eyeing you up. I’m wearing dark pants and a blue collared short sleeve.

The restaurant is dim, and our booth is in shadow. A small dim light fixture above each table ads a little light to the surroundings. Around us, others in booths and at tables chat to each other and sip their drinks in a low murmur accompanied by the clatter of plates and the clink of glasses.

We sit on the same side of the table, occasionally commenting on something, but mostly sitting quietly enjoying a glass of wine and each other’s company.

Around us other couples are eating their meals. The people in the booth next to us are a couple of loud talkers. It’s annoying, but every so often we laugh as they say something ridiculous or gauche. They’re sitting behind us, so we don’t see what they look like besides a glance. They’re probably in their thirties. The guy keeps bringing up football, to his partner’s annoyance.

The booth next to the couple on a date is occupied by four people on a double date. They’ve been sharing a pitcher, not the first of the night. We can’t hear them talk, but there’s a periodic outburst of laughter from their corner. They all wear casual clothes.

They’re causing annoyance to a family of four, who brought their young kids to a pub in the evening.

“Well if you don’t want drunk people around, don’t go where they are at the time, they are drunk.” You comment to me, seeing the irritation in the face of the man, who keeps turning around to make angry faces toward the partying friends. Their two children are oblivious, colouring on kid’s placemats.

At the bar, a woman approaches a man, and they start to talk and order drinks.

“Check this out, these two just met up,” I say, indicating to them. The man is in a dark suit, the woman is in a short blue skirt.

“Oooh, maybe someone’s getting lucky,” you say with a laugh in your voice.

“Me hopefully.”

“You’re such a perv, eat your sandwich,” you respond, giving me a playful nudge in the ribs.

Looking around at the patrons, enjoying my sandwich, I ask “Do you look at other couples and wonder what they do in bed? Like, you see how they act in public and wonder what it means in private?”

“Mhm, I do,” you respond. “Or what they just did you too.”

“Look at these two,” I say, indicating with my head. “He’s getting lucky tonight for sure.”

“Little Black Dress and Nice Suit? Oh yeah, she can’t take her eyes off him.”

“They ordered prosecco earlier, and they’re more dressed up than this place requires. They’re celebrating something. Based on how she’s looking at him, it’s something he did.”

“Lucky boy. What about those two,” you ask, indicating with your eyes to the couple sitting in the booth across the restaurant. “The two in the booth over there? She looks bored as fuck. Or tense, I dunno.”

A young couple are sitting together looking nervous. I tilt my head in their direction, “First date?”

“No, I’d say second or third, they’re too chill,” you say, after looking at them for a minute. The man is wearing a charcoal sport coat and pants, looking a bit stiff and formal. The woman is wearing a red cocktail dress. Both are probably in their twenties.

“You’re right, they’re not relaxed enough together to have had sex, but that doesn’t look like a first date either.” I add, seeing how they never seemed to touch.

“How about those two, first date?” I indicated to a couple sitting in a both across the restaurant, adding “They seem really into it.”

They are both on their phones, sitting in silence. The woman, fortyish looking brunette with a ponytail, looked impatient or nervous, occasionally squirming in her seat. The man stared at his phone, glancing at her occasionally to say a couple words.

“Yeah totally,” you say with a smirk. Our dinner arrives, a club sandwich and a brisket sandwich respectively.

During dinner we see the man with the two children stand up and say something loudly to the people behind him, but we can’t make out what. He sits back down and mutter to each other about what that was probably about.

“I sometimes think they’re the people you think are boring and assume they are other times, but they’re actually super sexual or something. All vanilla in public ya know?”

“Then they’ll go home they get wild’n horny? Heh, yeah,” I say, looking around. The uncomfortable looking brunette doesn’t look bored anymore. Her face is flushed and she’s leaning toward her man across the table in the booth. “Or what they did before they came out,” I add.

I sip my beer and put my hand on your thigh, “doubt it’ll happen…” I whisper, and you follow my eyes to woman being subjected to football.

“No way, or if so, she’s more patient than I am,” you chuckle quietly, looking at me.

“Hopefully I’m not trying your patience too badly then m’dear,” I say, smiling. You certainly don’t say otherwise with your smile.

“So, what do you like to picture when you see someone,” you ask, looking back over as the couple by the bar walked out of the restaurant.

“I like to imagine what it looks like and think about what they look like fucking, to see someone’s face and picture what they look like when they cum, or what they look like naked and having sex,” I say. I was enjoying the conversation getting more and more sexual and I was happy to help it along.

I see the overdressed blonde chick sitting at the table in the center, sipping on her prosecco, and I picture her boyfriend lifting that skirt and cock pushing in her on the table.

“I like to think of them doing wild stuff,” you say, looking around at the other dinner guests, “like, stuff I don’t even want to do, but would watch them do it.”

“Mmm yeah, they’re doing all those fantasies that take too much effort,” I agree with a chuckle.

“Haha, exactly,” you smile, “all those crazy positions that are hard on the knees.”

“Can I get you anything else guys,” asked the waiter, clearing the plates.

“No just the bill please,” I say.

The bill arrives promptly, we pay it and rise to leave. I cast my eyes around the restaurant at our cast of characters we’ve been watching.

The young couple are holding hands at the table. The guy still looks nervous, but the girl is relaxed, smiling.

The woman sitting behind us returned from the bathroom and we roll our eyes at each other as we hear the man tell her about the game score.

The couple standing at the bar slipped out already; they were nowhere to be seen.

The couple with the two kids had just risen to leave when we did. The woman was looking at her husband with a look of desire on her face. Maybe coming to this place is going to end well after all.

The attractive couple sipping prosecco were settling their bill with the waiter. The man looked shy, or excited? He was definitely getting laid tonight.

The party showed little sign of abating. The two couples had just ordered another pitcher. With the family leaving, the atmosphere at the group table seemed more relaxed.

Across the room, the couple in the booth were finishing their dissert. The woman with the dark ponytail was flushed, she shifted in her seat, apparently uncomfortable. All is not as it seems I conclude to myself.

“What do you think they’re all going to do when they get home baby?”