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Her fingers slid over the last inches of my belly and, Oh joy!, over my sex. She waited there, not invading me but with her hand covering my slit, I could feel the warmth of it, and as she waited my mind was still racing; a woman I hardly knew was taking liberties with my body that I should reject, but in fact I wanted her to, I wanted more. As long as I had kept my eyes closed I could tell myself it wasn’t happening, that it was a dream brought about by my semi-intoxicated state, but it had gone too far for that now and I opened my eyes to see her sitting there beside me, looking down at my naked breasts, her hand inside my pants. The small voice telling me this was wrong was banished. I needed it now and I didn’t mind who was doing it, in fact if she stopped I would bring myself off right there in front of her. Having got to this point of no return I reached down and threw the duvet right off the bed and then took her hand out of my pants and pushed them down my legs and off. I lay. I stood up, and pulled Megan up with me, held her in a dance pose, and we waltzed around the tables. I looked over Megan’s shoulder; a small crowd had gathered at the front of the restaurant, and people were looking at us. When the song was finished, I kissed her briefly, and we sat down, to the applause and cheers of the people looking on. Megan’s face was glowing; I could almost detect a tear or two (of happiness, I hoped) at the corner of her eyes.By now our food was ready; Maria bought a big tray to our table. The pizza had been sliced into eight sections, covered with all sorts of toppings. It tasted great, much nicer than the typical ‘Pizza Hut’ pizzas; the pastry was thin and crispy, there wasn’t too much sauce on it. It was hot; I almost burned my mouth with the first bite. It was hard to feel romantic while stuffing a slice of pizza in your mouth, but somehow I didn’t care that we were in some cheap inner-city pizza joint; Megan and I had just spent the whole afternoon.
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