Once he could see that I had control of my body again, he said in a low voice between grunts, “Put your hands back on the wall Melanie.”
While complying with his order, I felt him increase the pace. The water continued to cascade over us which caused a slapping sound as our bodies made contact on each hard, powerful thrust.
He was aggressively pounding me now which felt incredible. My knees started to go weak and I found it difficult to remain in the standing position against the wall with my hands above my head. The slapping sounds grew louder and I could hear his breathing start to change and become shallower. I knew he had to be close and I could feel myself begin to climb again as those familiar shock waves started to travel through me. His hands were on my hips and he used my body to give him increased leverage to thrust into me harder and deeper. I started to shake in orgasm as his hard thrusting abated and he grunted loudly as he came inside of me. After his orgasm subsided, he fell forward into my back, which in turn, pressed me forward into the shower wall. For several minutes we remained motionless as the water continued to wash over us. As our breathing returned to normal, I felt his cock lose its rigidity and slip out of me.
He kissed my neck and then whispered into my ear, “I think I need another shower.”
I felt amazing as we walked through the casino side by side, with James’ arm around me. I loved wearing black as it was a great contrast to my blonde hair and the short dress really showed off my long, tanned legs. I was in such a great mood from the amazing sex, that I barely noticed the nasty looks that we got from some of the people in the casino.
Before I knew it, we were on the freeway heading west to Summerlin. Being from Southern California, I always thought that Summerlin is to Las Vegas, what Beverly Hills is to Los Angeles. It’s a small, affluent community with nice homes and restaurants and apparently one of those restaurants was owned by James. If his restaurant in Summerlin wasn’t making money, then there was definitely a problem he needed to fix.
I had pinned my hair up because I didn’t want the wind tussling it and I knew James would have the top down again in the Mustang. It was a beautiful spring Saturday night and I loved the romantic vibe I felt being with him. James had his hand on my thigh as we drove which sent chills down my spine. I loved how he liked to have his hands on me. It was nothing overt or necessarily sexual, just a constant reminder from him that “I’m here.” Maybe it was something more, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, I just knew I liked it.
I was really hungry and I thought about teasing James that the food at his restaurant had better be good. However, I reconsidered my jest. If his restaurant wasn’t making money, teasing him about the quality of the food might not be wise.
Outwardly, he was in a good mood, smiling and talking to me like everything was fine. Inwardly, I was beginning to know him well enough to sense some underlying tension. This wasn’t a fun night out for him. This restaurant was costing him money and I could tell he was serious about getting to the bottom of it.
A short time later we pulled off the freeway on Town Center Drive and drove about a mile to what looked to be an exclusive part of Summerlin. We had driven through an area with multi-million dollar homes and very expensive looking shops and boutiques and arrived at a large Italian restaurant. I had remembered reading about it in the ‘best of’ section of several Las Vegas magazines, and for whatever reason, it surprised me that James owned it.
We pulled up in front of the restaurant and a young valet took the keys and another young man opened the doors for us as we walked inside. Upon entering, we were almost immediately met by a middle aged man.
“It’s good to see you again Mr. Moretti,” the man said as he shook James’ hand.
I could see the tension in the man’s eyes and felt the strain between them during their brief interaction. So much for a fun night out.
“David, this is Melanie,” James said, looking towards me.
David quickly shook my hand without even really looking at me. His hands were clammy, almost wet. I realized just how nervous he was.
“I reserved a table in the back Mr. Moretti, please follow me,” David said.
As we walked through the restaurant, I looked around and appreciated the elegantly decorated walls, appointed in a somewhat modern, but also hints of a classic Italian theme. As David led us to the table, I noticed immediately that the restaurant was full, nearly to capacity. It was an older crowd; most of the men were in suits and many of them wore ties. Most of the ladies were wearing longer, formal dresses, while a handful of the more daring ones had on shorter, sexy dresses like mine. Many of the women wore very nice jewelry. I saw what looked to be very expensive watches, bracelets and necklaces. It was definitely an upper class crowd.
David sat us at the table in the middle of the room and then took a chair close to James and they began talking quietly. I could make out a few words, but, for the most part, I tried to ignore them. There seemed to be enough tension between them and I didn’t want to make a bad situation worse by eavesdropping on their conversation. A pretty waitress approached the table and handed James and I menus. I quickly scanned the offerings and their corresponding prices and noticed how expensive everything was.
“Do you have any questions for me?” the waitress asked, smiling sweetly, looking directly at me.
She had an olive complexion with dark skin and eyes. She had beautiful brunette hair in a ponytail that reached the middle of her back. She looked to be in her early twenties, and she was truly striking.
I looked at her name tag, “Which salad would you recommend Gianna?” I said, looking into her beautiful dark eyes.
“We have a great antipasto salad that comes with your choice of either shrimp or chicken,” she said, as she touched my arm lightly.
Okay, I’m not crazy; she’s flirting with me. The way she touched my arm definitely confirmed my suspicion.
“I’ll take the antipasto salad with chicken and a glass of white wine.”
By now, the conversation was growing heated between the men. James didn’t even acknowledge Gianna at the side of our table as she attempted to take his order.
Trying to assist her, I leaned in and whispered, “Did you find what you wanted to order James?”
I looked over and saw that my question momentarily put the increasingly tense conversation between the men on hold.
“Just pick out something for me,” James said, snapping at me, before returning to his conversation with David.
I was shocked and hurt at the rude and hurtful tone in his voice. Trying to compose myself, I turned to Gianna.
“He’ll have whatever is on special tonight.”
She nodded, giving me a quick look of understanding, realizing something wasn’t right at our table between the man I was accompanying and her manager. She turned quickly and left.
I nonchalantly scooted my chair away from the men, trying to give them as much privacy as I could, without making it look too obvious to the other guests.
It was a festive atmosphere in the restaurant. The couples at the other tables were laughing, smiling, and talking while they enjoyed their meals. This was a stark juxtaposition to what was transpiring at our table; two men heatedly talking under their breaths, and at times, looking like they were seconds from coming to blows.
A few minutes later James stood up, looked at me, and angrily said, “We are going to the office to talk.”
Without further explanation, both men abruptly left.
Once they were gone, I was the only one sitting alone in the dining room. To make matters worse, it felt like every eye in the room was on me. It wasn’t enough that I was the youngest one in the restaurant, eating with a man who was more than twice my age, but now, he’d left me by myself. My mood was turning fouler by the second and I found it much more difficult to ignore the judgmental stares of some of the older people sitting around me.
A few minutes later Gianna brought our plates of food. She set them down and gave me a caring, sympathetic smile.
“Can I bring you anything else?” she said softly.
“I’ll take a better boyfriend.” I said, forcing a smile.
She looked tenderly at me and squeezed my hand.
“I’ll be back to check on you soon,” she said compassionately, before turning and walking away.
I looked down at my dinner, the salad looked delicious.
The aroma from my plate was causing my stomach to grumble, so I decided to eat. Who knows how long James will be anyway.
I had taken several bites of the salad, when James returned to the table, without David.
He sat down and looked at his plate, “Who ordered this shit?” he said, looking at me angrily.
Shocked at his statement, I looked down at his plate. I had been so upset I hadn’t even noticed what Gianna had brought. I turned, and looked at him with daggers in my eyes.
“I guess the special tonight is escargot. You could complain to the owner, but I doubt it would do much good because he’s acting like a real asshole this evening.”
James’ jaw dropped open.
I stood up, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” I said, without looking at him.
Almost in tears, I turned and walked towards the front door. I was tempted to walk out, but thought better of it. I needed to calm down. I saw the sign for the restroom and opened the door and walked in. I scanned the row of stalls and headed towards the last one, noticing it was larger, for women in wheelchairs. I opened the stall door, quickly locked it behind me, and sat down on the toilet. It took everything in my power not to cry.
I took stock of my situation. What the hell was I doing here? It was Saturday night, and I should be in a club drinking, dancing and having fun. Instead, I’m in a stuffy Italian restaurant in Summerlin, surrounded by two-hundred old people, and getting yelled at by a man I barely knew. I unzipped my purse and began digging around in the clutter looking for my cell phone to call a cab. Just as I found it and pulled it out of my purse, I heard a knock on the stall door.
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