The Valentine’s Day Dinner, Copyright 2001 by Victoria Manley

It started out as any other Valentine’s Day dinner at their favorite Mexican restaurant. Never in a million years would she have believed that it would have happened. Not that she was a prude or anything like that... but in a restaurant?!

The waiter had just taken their drink order and she sat quietly, thoughtfully looking over the menu and wondering if she should be bad and order the three-enchilada combination platter, or be good and order a salad.

"Oh mercy, look over there," her husband whispered, leaning over to her and softly speaking the words in her ear.

He took a lungful of air and breathed her in deeply. Her fragrance was so intoxicating, almost like the bouquet of red roses that he had sent to her work for Valentine’s Day. He could hardly believe that they had been together so many years. She looked more beautiful with each passing year.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up over her reading glasses and straining her eyes to see whatever it was he was looking at.

"At the bar," he replied, "that young couple... the man in the dark green shirt and the blonde woman in the black dress."

She spotted them.

"Oh, I see them," she said, then looked over at him, "Do you know them?"

"No," he said, still watching, "The boy's been moving his hand over her lower back for the last couple of minutes. I'll bet he tries to get his hand under her dress."

"Franklin, you're incorrigible!" she laughed.

She shifted her glasses up on her nose and returned her attention to the menu.

"I'm telling you, Helen," he grinned, "that young man is going to get lucky tonight."

He leaned in close to her again and kissed her cheek, then lingered there for a moment to whisper to her again. "Am I going to get lucky tonight?"

She cut her eyes at him and then smiled as a little pink blush rose to the apple of her cheeks.

"You dirty old man. Move over, will you? You're steaming up my glasses."

He chuckled and scooted just a few inches away from her in the booth, but he didn't want to go far. She looked so lovely tonight and he had been thinking about their dinner all day.

The waiter came to bring their drinks and take their food order, she put her glasses in her handbag, and then they both settled back to wait for their meals to come. His eyes went back to the couple at the bar. The young man's hand was resting on the young woman's lower back, and there was a spark of electricity between them as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"Remember when we used to look at each other that way?" he asked, "Eyes glued to each other and not caring if the world slipped passed us or not?"

She looked over at them again.

"Well, we were young and in love and didn't know any better."

The young man's hand moved over the young woman's hip and she slid off the barstool to stand between his legs, silently giving him permission to move his hand over her ass. When he did, Frank began to chuckle and looked at his watch.

"I'll give him another ten minutes and he'll have his hand under her dress."

"Franklin, stop staring at those young people," Helen quipped, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

He scooted closer to her and slipped his hand under the tablecloth to rest it on her thigh.

"Jealous, sweetheart?" he asked, still grinning.

"I should say not," she replied, taking his hand off her leg and placing it on the table, "there's a time and place for everything and this is not the place for that."

He chuckled softly and picked up his margarita, stealing another quick glance at the bar couple. The girl was standing between the boy's legs with her forearms resting on his shoulders, each looking deeply into the other's eyes. The girl had long, stingy hair and pale, thin lips and she was a bit too big-busted for Frank's taste, although the boy seemed to be enjoying her large knockers in his face.

Frank looked adoringly at his wife again. He loved her full sensual lips and neatly upswept brown hair. There were a few laugh lines around her hazel eyes now, but it only gave her lovely face a bit of character. She was no longer the young, inexperienced girl he had married, but now a classy and charming middle-aged woman, much more appealing and sensual in his book. She always conducted herself as a lady, the only exception being when they were behind the locked doors of their bedroom and she became his lover.

Even after having their children, she was toned and in good shape, and even though she protested that her breasts were too small and didn't have the perk that they had once had, he loved them. He had no problem making her dark pink nipples respond when he touched them with his fingers or mouth. His favorite play  times were the stolen moments in the morning when they would be getting ready for work and before waking the children to get them up for school.

Occasionally, and if they had time, he would slip into the warm water with his wife as she took her morning shower and press the front of his body against the back of hers, cradling his penis between the cheeks of her ass. Sometimes he just held her for a little while, marveling at the stunning woman in his arms and washing her gently with the soft, soapy washcloth.

Other times, he would cup her breasts in his left hand and the soft mound between her legs in his right, effortlessly fingering her to orgasm. He loved feeling her rock her pelvis against his hand and pressing the back of her head against his shoulder as the wave took her. She would try to be quiet, but a moan would usually escape her throat nonetheless. With either scenario, it was a splendid way to start out the day.

"What are they doing now?" she asked as she stirred the lime slice and ice cubes in her drink and then sipped it through the yellow umbrella straw.

"I thought you didn't care," he asked, mocking her good-humoredly.

"I don't," she returned sardonically, "Just making conversation until our food gets here."

He craned his neck to look over at the bar. The place was starting to get crowded. The boy's hand was moving slowly on the side of the girl's thigh over top of her dress.

"Oh mercy... he's touching her thigh," he told his

There were people in her way and she could no longer see the couple.

"Bare?" she asked.

"Yeah," he lied, "just like this."

He slipped his hand under the tablecloth and put it on her knee at the edge of her dress, then slid it up so that his hand was on her bare thigh, fondling it appreciatively. She grasped his hand quickly so that he didn't raise her dress too high.

"Franklin, behave," she whispered.

Even though she had told him to conduct himself appropriately, there was a slight exhilaration to her voice and he could tell that, in just a small way, she was excited. His long fingers closed over the inside of her thigh and began tracing small circles on her warm skin. As his cool fingertips moved over her bare skin, she was thankful that she wasn't wearing stockings. The waiter came over to bring them a complimentary basket of nacho chips and salsa, and she drew her legs together quickly, but his hand did not remove itself.

"Franklin, you should move your hand," she said after the waiter had gone.

"I'm trying to," he chuckled, "but you keep stopping me."

"I mean, out from under the table," she told him.

She tried to remain serene and composed, to look as if nothing was going on, but all of her senses were focused on his long fingers that stroked her, slowly advancing over the inside of her thigh, towards her pussy and then back down a few inches. His little finger wiggled dangerously close to the edge of her panties and she shifted a little in her seat.

"What is the couple doing now?" she asked, her breath a bit raspy.

He looked, not moving his hand from her thigh. The boy's hand had moved in between the girl's thighs, and, by the look on the girl's face, he was touching just the right spot.

"His hand is under her skirt and he's touching her pussy," Frank told her.

"Oh my goodness, are you serious?"

"Yeah, I can see 'em."

"Hmm… I'll bet that feels good to her," Helen remarked.

Frank took his wife's words as a hint to continue. With infinite patience, he slid his fingers higher to her panty line and then beneath the crotch of the lace and silk. Slowly moving the material to the side and out of his way, he confidently searched for the warm, damp place he knew so well. She moaned softly and he smiled. Her resistance was crumbling.

"Franklin, this isn't right," she whispered, leaning close to him so she wouldn't have to speak very loudly, "We shouldn't be doing this here. Someone could see."

He could feel the heat from her body and her arousal on his fingers.

"No, we shouldn't be doing it, but it feels so good, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

She nodded her head, unable to speak at the moment, lowering her eyes to the table. Her moist lips parted and he saw her breasts rising in quiet heaves. With her hair up, he could see the shorter hairs lying against the back of her neck becoming damp from the heat of her skin. He leaned closer, applying just a little more pressure to her hardening clit, and felt a rush of warmth and wetness trickle into the palm of his hand. The pink folds of her pussy felt like wet velvet against his fingers.

"Yes... yes," he whispered, "that's it, sweetheart... come for me... let it go."

She turned her head slightly to him, looking at him through half-closed eyes and parting her lips further, but not speaking. The wave came and she closed her eyes for a moment, gently digging her fingernails into his thigh. He smiled to himself. He didn't mind. He had felt her nails rake his skin time and time again and he hoped to feel a lot more of it tonight.

She opened her eyes and looked at him as he took his hand from under her dress. He smiled again and sucked her juices off the tips of his fingers, then raised his glass.

"A toast?" he asked.

She nodded and raised her glass.

"To many more Valentine’s Days like this one in the years to come," he said.

She clinked glasses with him and then thought of a toast of her own.

"To many more orgasms like that one tonight."

He smiled.

"Not to worry, sweetheart," he replied, still grinning, "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I took my vitamins today and I had a nap this afternoon."

"Well, maybe you should be the one to worry," she said, a sly little smile crossing her lips, "because  so did I."

He smiled and sighed deeply.

"Oh mercy."

"Victoria Manley is the author of Daddy's Girl, Sweet Tastes of Seduction, Night Sweats, Indecent Delights, and The Boy Toy, all available at "

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