Page 63 of The Facilitator: Part 3
Lauren chuckled. “Sorry, it was something that just came to me. I’m not jealous, don’t panic, just nosy,” she said. She placed her hand on my thigh.
“Honestly, I don’t think Veronica does relationships at all. I think something awful happened to her in her youth.”
“Youthink?”
“Yes, just something Alex said to me once. I can’t remember the exact words but suggested she’d beenthrough something terrible once, and that was why she didn’t do relationships.”
“That’s a shame.”
Veronica, Lauren, and I had enjoyed an evening together one time and it was something I’d do again, if Lauren wanted. Not because I wanted to be with Veronica, we didn’t touch each other at all, but Veronica knew—without a shadow of doubt—what turned women on, and seeing her do that to my wife was explosive to me.
I started to think about what was to come that evening. Veronica had arranged what I’d required, of course.
“What are you thinking?” Lauren asked, sipping her wine.
“Just about later,” I said, smirking at her.
“You’re wiggling on your stool,” she whispered.
“Wiggling?” I laughed at her term. Sure, I was already aroused and trying to get comfortable.
“Can I take your order, or would you like some more time?” I heard. I looked up to see a server.
Lauren smirked as she studied her menu.
“Oysters, and then the fish. For us both,” Lauren said. She closed her menu and handed it to the server. I did the same.
The server left. “You don’t like oysters,” I said.
“You do, and if they’re the aphrodisiac they’re meantto be, I want you to have a double portion,” she said, laughing.
“Lauren, I don’t need anything to keep aroused where you’re concerned.”
I pulled her stool closer to mine, her legs were between mine and I placed my hands on her bare thighs. I leaned forward a little, parting her legs.
“I can smell you,” I said quietly. My mouth watered and I licked my lips.
She swallowed hard. “You make my stomach flip when you do that,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Stare at me that way. You did that the first evening and every one since.”
“Because I want you, and I won’t stop wanting you,” I replied. “Ever.”
“Even when I’m old?”
“More so when you’re old.”
I leaned back and picked up our wine. I handed her the glass and caught a wave over her shoulder.
“Our table is ready,” I said, sliding from my stool. I held out my hand to assist her.
We walked into the dining room and to one of the alcoves. I liked to sit to the side and face the door. It gave me warning if anyone was to approach for a conversation. Most people that joined the club knew I owned it, and occasionally, they wanted to talk. I didn’t, especiallywhen I was there with my wife. I pulled out Lauren’s chair and was pleased to see the table had been set so we sat side by side and not opposite each other.
“I want you to try another oyster,” I said when a frame with a dish was placed in the center of the table.
Surrounding the oysters was a small pot of chili oil, a bottle of Tabasco, and cut lemons. I squeezed lemon over one and held it. Lauren reached to take it from me and I shook my head.
