Dessert

by Lily Harlem

  The waiters worked in silence, their movements swift and efficient. More leaves were laid, smaller, paler, and carefully arranged on the balls of her shoulders. I shifted on my seat, an ache in my balls telling me my cock would soon be getting an extra shot of blood. It was those pretty nipples that were doing it; they were so tight and small, their dark-cocoa color exquisite. Rather than looking at the wonderful sushi and wondering what that would taste like, all I could think of was how her nipples would feel on the tip of my tongue. Flexible but also hard, they would give some resistance to 13

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  a flick I was sure, but then if I sucked them deep into my mouth they would be soft and pliant on my tongue.

  I licked my lips, tried to concentrate on the culinary artistry of the moment.

  On the new shoulder leaves, rice layered with prawns was set, the fanned tails lying perfectly horizontal and just touching one another in the center. The waiters busied themselves with yet more leaves, heart-shaped this time, setting two over her slight hipbones and one at the juncture of her thighs.

  Part of me was relieved that her bare pussy lips were now covered—it might ease the pressure in my cock—but the other part of me wished I could still see her lovely nakedness.

  Tofu wrapped in ribbons of seaweed were set on the hipbone leaves, and one enormous fluffy white flower rested over her pussy, making it appear that in place of pubic hair she had a cloud of petals.

  Rai offered forward the bottle of sake. “Would you like more?” I dragged my gaze from the slivers of sashimi being balanced on her thighs. “Er, yes, please.” I held up my glass.

  Rai filled our glasses. “Kampai, here is to a wonderful meal.”

  “Kampai,” I replied, knocking back my drink and once again relishing the burn and the fuzzy feeling it created as it slipped down my gullet.

  “Sir, please.” A waiter handed me a black linen napkin and a narrow white tray holding a finger bowl and soy sauce.

  “Thank you.” I set the tray down and laid the napkin on my lap. I was hungry. It had been a long time since lunch in my office, and I had to say, this was a little different from the cheese sandwich and apple I’d had then as I’d trawled through emails.

  The waiters disappeared, the curtain was drawn and Rai wasted no time in tucking in. “Be careful of the prawn. The chef likes to hide wasabi in the center of the rice. Fine 14

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  if you like wasabi, a bit of a shock if you don’t.” He lifted one, dipped it in his soy, then popped it onto his tongue, fish side down.

  I stared at the meal. Where to start?

  Nipples? No! Think food, John.

  I reached for smoked salmon, pinched it up between my index finger and thumb, but halfway across her breast a chunk fell. I watched in horror as the tiny pieces of rice bounced on her areola and skittered down her flesh. Some bits stayed stickily where they landed, others rolled down to the table. “Oh shit,” I said. Then frowned and glanced at her face. I hated to swear in female company. “Sorry.” But there was nothing, not even a tiny reaction of surprise to either the shower of rice or my language.

  “Don’t worry,” Rai said, “sometimes body warmth means the rice is not quite held together.”

  I was sure he was only being kind, and it was my clumsiness that had caused our beautiful girl to now have white chunks stuck to her perfect breast. I placed the remainder of my food on a side plate and wondered about using my napkin to remove the tiny pieces of food stuck to her. But I decided not to. I didn’t want that brass bell rung.

  “So tell me a little about yourself, John, while we eat. Are you married?” I held up my left hand, waggled my ring finger. “Not anymore, my wife and I were divorced a year or so ago.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “Thanks, but it was for the best. She had eyes for another man and I’m not good at sharing.” I shrugged.

  “I quite agree. Any children before the divorce?”

  “Nope, but one day, hopefully, when I meet the right woman. You?”

  “Yes, Jun and I have twin girls.”

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  “That’s lovely, how old are they?”

  “Three and into everything. They certainly keep us busy.” I smiled and gently picked up sashimi from the long leaves on our plate’s thigh.

  The thigh nearest me. She had nice knees, perfectly smooth and unscarred, small too, she was very finely boned. I wondered if she was married or if she had any children.

  My gaze was drawn to her left hand. She wore no ring.

  “So what do you do in your spare time?” Rai asked, munching on tuna sushi.

  “I like to hike, check out equipment for the business and I’ve also just enrolled on a youth volunteer scheme to help city kids get outdoors and learn survival skills.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah, should be. I hate to think of kids not being able to put up a tent, get a fire going or find food in the forest. These are skills which should be kept alive, not left to die out.”

  “I could not agree more.”

  And so the conversation led onto Rai’s experiences of outdoor expeditions not just in Japan and the UK but also in Nepal. He had a keen interest in climbing and spoke of fantastic adventures at the foothills of Everest, somewhere I’d also visited, but luckily without snowstorms or colleagues with fractured ankles.

  The sushi and sashimi gradually diminished, my stomach felt full and I have to say, so did my dick. The lovely breasts shifting before me and the absolute physical control our Geisha plate had over her dainty little body could not be ignored.

  “That was truly delicious,” I said, wiping my fingers on my napkin.

  “I am glad you approve.”

  I smiled and licked my lips. The fresh, fragrant flavors hummed gently in my mouth. I had enjoyed so many tangy essences and delicious tingles on my tongue.

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  The curtain drew back and with perfect swiftness waiters removed the now empty leaves from our lovely plate, exposing her slopes and curves in all their lusciousness once again.

  Another glass of sake was poured and enjoyed.

  “Thank you so much for accompanying me to The Geisha Plate,” Rai said. “I hope you enjoyed your meal as well as hearing all about Koni’s new products.”

  “Very much,” I said, my head a little muzzy from the strong rice wine. “I will certainly be interested in contracting stock for both national and international stores.” Rai grinned, balling his rosy cheeks into two apples. That news and the wine had made him flushed too. I was pleased—it made me feel less inept at handling my drink.

  “I hope you won’t mind,” Rai said, “if I leave you to enjoy dessert alone. Jun will be waiting up for me. Naturally Koni will be picking up the evening’s bill so have whatever you fancy.”

  “Well, I…” Dessert? Despite the small morsels of sushi, I’d eaten a whole big pile of the stuff. I wasn’t sure I could handle anything more to eat.

  “Dessert in this restaurant is highly recommended,” Rai said, standing, his expression one of firm insistence.

  I glanced at our exposed—except for the white flower over her pussy—plate. She was, as she had been throughout the entire meal, completely still, completely passive.

  Rai held out his hand. I shifted upward and took it.

  “Enjoy,” he said with a smile. “I will call you next week, with your permission of course, to organize contracts.”

  “Absolutely, looking forward to it.” I sat back on my cushion. Perhaps something sweet before I caught a cab home would be nice. I was in no rush to get back to my bed—alone. Stretching out on cool sheets and sleeping without being disturbed by another human presence had gotten old several months ago.

  Rai gave a brief bow, shifted from our booth and drew the heavy curtains up tight.

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  Chapter Three

  I poured another shot
of sake, rasped my hand over my stubbled chin and sighed.

  Fleetingly, thoughts of our business conversation popped into my mind but before I knew it my gaze was roaming the woman before me and I was appreciating the sight.

  Several grains of the rice I’d spilled were still on her flesh. There was also a seaweed-like strand of nori on her right thigh, curled like a question mark. And although the scent of cooking filled the air, I could almost believe that the subtle scent of woman was also tickling my nostrils—petals, sugar and spice.

  Suddenly she flicked her eyes open. I wouldn’t have noticed except that I was staring at her face when those long lashes fluttered upward.

  My heart flipped in surprise and a bubble of both suppressed lust and shock popped in my belly.

  She stared straight up at me with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that held such richness and such depth that I could have just jumped straight in and drowned a happy man.

  She poked out the tip of her tongue, pointed and pink, and swept over the scarlet lipstick at the center of her mouth.

  My dick responded to the action. It had settled slightly but was instantly heading back to full hardness. I tried to will it into submission but without success. That damn tip of her tongue was just too much for the dirty side of my imagination.

  She moved her arms, dainty movements, but they seemed startling after such a prolonged period of stillness. She rose, her breasts shifting from their side-sloped position to a perfect palmful of softness with heavy undersides. Her nipples stayed jutting out, like ripe cherries topping cupcakes.

  “Mr. Alan,” she said in a tinkling little voice. “Are you ready for dessert?” 18

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  “I-I, er, yes…yes.” Why was I stuttering? I never stuttered.

  The pale corners of her mouth tipped and the reflection of the candles sparkled in her eyes. She slid to the very edge of the table and the flower covering her pussy lips fell to the floor as well as the few remaining grains of rice and the clinging piece of nori.

  Instinctively I reached for the flower, clasped the short stalk and handed it to her, at the same time wondering what she would use as modesty when she left the booth to order my dessert.

  “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was almost singsong, music to my ears, a tickle to my cock.

  I struggled to keep my attention on her face. For although I’d stared at her luscious body for over an hour, now that she was moving there were a whole load of other pretty curves and seductive shapes to appreciate and study. Sexual awareness simmered inside me and the effect of her proximity vibrated in my belly so hard that I was sure she’d be able to feel it in the air.

  “Please rest back,” she said, nodding to the solid wall that held the bell and the row of candles. I couldn’t have rested on the wall directly behind me, it appeared made of paper with a crisscross of dark wooden struts.

  I twisted and shuffled backward, the stiff fullness of my dick hindering my movements.

  “I hope you enjoy your dessert as much as you have enjoyed your main course,” she said, dropping to her knees in the small gap between table and my cushion-style chair.

  Her shiny raven-black hair spread over her shoulders, several strands skimming the rise of her breast, the blunt ends twirling around her nipples.

  “Well, yes, I am sure I will. The food here is lovely.” I gulped as she placed elegant hands on my knees. Her nails were long and painted pale pink. Her gaze stayed locked on mine.

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  What is she doing?

  She smoothed her palms up my thighs. My skin was hypersensitive, I was so turned-on by her nakedness and the rubbing of the cotton on my leg. A new glut of lust shot to my cock. I glanced at the curtain, opened my mouth to speak.

  “Shh,” she soothed, her eyelids drooping as though heavy with a lust that matched my own. “No one will come in.”

  “But—”

  “Just enjoy your dessert, Mr. Alan. For you it is all part of the service at The Geisha Plate.”

  Her gaze was so intense I could hardly breathe. And when the tips of her fingers brushed the bulge at my groin I did actually stop breathing. Held my breath tight as though I was about to jump into the ocean for a deep-sea dive.

  She licked her lips, slowly, suggestively, smudging the red blob of lipstick at their center.

  Is she going to do what I think she is?

  No!

  My whole body was strumming with primal tension. My balls ached and boiled, my gut clenched. If I’d felt a little drunk before, now I was as sober as a rock. I was here in the moment, caught up in the spell she’d weaved around me.

  “Relax,” she said, cupping my dick through my pants. “Relax and let me suck your penis into my mouth.”

  Fucking hell!

  Blowing out a breath, I balled my fists. Had I heard her right? Had she really just said she was going to suck my penis into her mouth? Maybe I wasn’t as sober as I thought and I was hearing things I wanted to hear. Because right now, the thought of her sucking my cock was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.

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  She tilted her head, her hair shifting on her shoulders like a river of silk. Her super-long lashes batted against her cheeks. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Alan?” What man wouldn’t? This was a dream come true. A blowjob all part of the service.

  Hell yeah!

  “I, er, yes,” I managed in a raw, throaty voice. I glanced at the bell. The inappropriate touching rule came back to me. Fuck, she was stroking my shaft through my pants. I was sure that would class as inappropriate. Highly inappropriate.

  The tiniest of giggles escaped her lips. “Oh, you are a worrier,” she said, rising up slightly and reaching for my zipper. “But I like that, it means you don’t take women for granted.”

  “No. No definitely not. And as long as you are sure then…ah…ah…” My dick surged as she reached into my clothing and pulled my shaft free. I stared down at her skillful stroking movements.

  “Jesus, really?” I gasped.

  “Yes, really.”

  Her hands were shockingly small and pale against my swollen, dark-with-arousal member. I couldn’t help a rush of male pride at the size of myself in comparison to her.

  “You are a good man, Mr. Alan,” she said. “And now you can enjoy your dessert, but, sh.” She closed her fingers around my hard-on. “You must be quiet so as not to disturb other diners.”

  She dipped her head and I saw the almost translucent whiteness of her scalp where her hair parted.

  Oh fuck, keep quiet, John. Don’t make this end. “Yes, yes, okay,” I whispered, gritting my teeth.

  She was exploring the head of my cock now, rubbing her fragile little fingers around the ridge beneath my glans, fondling my frenulum, something that always got my balls retracting. My thighs flexed, tensing around her body that had somehow 21

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  squeezed between my legs. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from begging for more, to keep from exclaiming my desperation and pleasure.

  I wanted to feel her lips on my cock more than anything. Of course if she had changed her mind and walked away I would have accepted it, but right now, that was just not part of my thought process. No way.

  “You have a big penis,” she whispered, shooting a look up at me that thrummed with sensual promise and, dare I say it, admiration.

  Damn, as if my control isn’t precarious enough.

  In answer to her compliment, my cock bobbed within her hand and the tendons at the base tightened painfully.

  She smiled and her attention returned to my erection. She swiped her index finger over my slit then took my entire head into her hot, sweet mouth.

  Oh, shit.

  I was sure we shouldn’t be doing this. There was something wrong about it, anyone could come in, but fuck me sideways, it felt so damn good, I was going to take what I could.

  Within the heat of her mo
uth, her darting tongue swirled around my tip, drawing a long, low moan from my chest that I had to clamp in my throat. She was going to finish me off pretty damn quick if she wasn’t careful.

  I stretched out my fingers, wanting to mesh them into her poker-straight, shiny hair. But I didn’t dare touch her, didn’t dare risk anything spoiling the wonderful, heavenly moment of feeling a woman’s mouth embrace my cock. I jabbed my nails into my palms, balling my fists and pressing them into the soft seat.

  She sank low, my belly trembled and carnal bliss took over. I shut my eyes, dropped my head onto the wall behind me and allowed every wet sensation she gave to envelop my shaft—the hardness of her palate, the moist strength of her tongue, the depth of her throat.

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  The suction inside her mouth increased as she pulled back up. She stroked her fingers over my saliva-coated flesh as it eased from her lips, her fingertips skilled and teasing. The moist little noises she made were an erotic caress to my ears, gentle laps and slurps, her taking me shallow and deep.

  Everything else ceased to exist except for her warm mouth and talented tongue. I tore open my eyes and looked down at her head bobbing at my groin. I could barely contain myself—the image of her giving me such pleasure while I was not reciprocating was almost too much. I had to once again force myself still, take what was being offered and not turn it into something more. Something much more. Like pushing her to the table and fucking her hard. Burying my dick in her small, sweet body.

  She dropped low then pulled up, creating a firm and steady rhythm. Each time my head hit the molten resistance at the back of her mouth the burn in my bollocks intensified. Pressure built at the base of my cock, growing and swelling. The agony of holding it back tensed my abs and shot my heart rate to dangerous levels.

  I clenched my jaw, peeled back my lips. I was going to come. It was there boiling, getting ready to erupt.

  “Fuck, I’m going to…”