Sharing the Sheets (12 page)

If Diana did everything I told her to, Amanda would no longer be a problem for her. As I told her before, humiliation will always knock them off their high horse. It was almost eight, and the night held a lot of slick talking to put Amanda where she had to be. The bait was me so it all seemed simple enough. I pulled my phone out and dialed Diana to see where she was.

“Hey, are we on schedule?”

“Yup, she just left. She should be at the restaurant in twenty minutes,” she whispered. “Are you sure she's going to fall for this? She very well could see this coming.”

“Did you do everything I asked? If you didn't, tell me now.” I was irritated by her doubt.

“Of course I did, but why did you want me to look at this place in SoHo?”

“Just be sweet, sexy, and very interested. Okay? Make sure to put on a good show,” I reminded her.

“But I still don't understand. Who is this guy to you?”

“That will be clear as long as you do your part.”

“Don't worry about that, I can handle myself. I just hope you can.” She was concerned about Amanda denying my gift to verbally woo women of their feet.

“Did he confirm the showing? You did make sure it was during the day? And you made it clear that he had to show you the place not an assistant or some inexperienced broker only looking for commission?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. I got this. You're not worried are you?”

“Just as much as you are about me. I'll talk to you soon.” I hung up feeling confident. I took a last look at myself. “Custom-made suit, hair perfect, Rolex, money clip, and lastly business cards.” I opened a square container on my dresser and ran my fingers over the divider labels. “Export buyer and seller, maybe. Sports agent . . . Oil dispenser, perfect.”
This should pique her interest.
I grabbed my keys and phone then headed out the door.

 

 

The Uber car service pulled up in front of the restaurant. “Thanks, hopefully you'll be in the area when I'm ready.” I stepped out just as she arrived; it couldn't have been timed any better. I hurried my step to open the door for her. “Let me get that for you,” I said smiling. Her hair was wrapped into a low bun, exposing her diamond-studded earrings. The red formfitting dress hugged her every curve just right. Her ass was solid; there was no sloppy gelatin bouncing as she walked.

“Thank you,” she replied not paying me much attention.

I gestured for the hostess to seat her first, and play her role. It all determined her tip in this cameo.

“Mr. Tatum, how are you? Are you sure? Your table is ready, and the wine you've requested has been set to breathe.” She didn't bother to address Amanda at all. It was as if she wasn't even there.

Another hostess arrived nudging Amanda a bit just to shake my hand. “Mr. Tatum, so happy when you're in town. I'll let the chef know you're here.”

Amanda stared me up and down before saying, “Wow, you must be a whole hell of importance, because she hasn't even looked at me.”

“I'm sorry, did you have a reservation?” one of the hostesses asked.

“Yes, it should be under Simmons. I'm supposed to meet a client here.”

I stayed silent, waiting for my cue.

The hostess swiped at the screen in front of her. “Are you sure it was reserved under that name? I don't have any reservations by that name.”

“Can you try Ms. Sutton? I had a temporary assistant all week and she's been screwing up royally.” She was quick to throw blame to cover her embarrassment.

The other hostess turned to me. “I'm sorry, Mr. Tatum, would you like to be seated now?”

“I'm sorry, it's not here. I can offer you a table next Thursday at eight. How does that sound?” the hostess asked.

“Ms. Sutton?” I eased my way to her rescue. “I would like to offer you my table.”

“I can't . . . I mean . . . I'm supposed to be meeting a client here.” She was blindsided by my chivalry.

“It's fine, but are you sure your client will be here? If the reservation wasn't made I'm sure your client was not informed as well.”

She agreed. “I just don't want—”

“Please, I insist. It would be my pleasure to have you as my honored guest.”

“I don't have dinners with just anybody.” She was defending her obvious plotting as she eyed the hostess.

“Maybe you would feel better if you knew my full name, Daniel Tatum.” I reached into my blazer and handed her my business card.

“Oil Dispenser?” Her eyebrows raised. She quickly searched her tote and pulled out her phone. “Anybody can get business cards made.” She placed her phone on speakerphone and dialed my number in front of me.

I was prepared. I knew what I was doing; too bad she didn't know what would hit her in a few hours. I didn't make any movement. I calmly smiled and allowed her to play into the game. My voice was heard: “You've reached Daniel Tatum, please leave a message and I will get back to you shortly. Thank you.”

“Now, let's take our seats.”

“Only dinner.” She smiled as the hostess led us to our booth nestled into the back corner, isolated from the other diners.

“Do you drink red wine?”

“Sometimes, depending on the year.”

“How does 1958 Giuseppe Mascarello Barolo sound?” I didn't think she knew anything about wine.

“Italian, fruity, hmm, that's a pretty good pick.” Her pearly whites showed again.

She seemed impressed. One point on the board.

“So what do you do?”

“I'm a defense lawyer,” she answered.

“I thought so. You have a very strong presence. Maybe that's why I had to have dinner with you. By the way, thanks for not shooting me down, that would have been pretty embarrassing.”

The waitress arrived with the bottle of wine and poured a bit into my glass for tasting. I gestured her to continue and serve Amanda first.

After the waitress filled our glasses she quickly disappeared and Amanda's confused look made me have second thoughts.

“Okay, so why haven't we seen menus yet? What kind of restaurant is this?” She tasted her wine.

“I don't eat from the menu. The chef will come to the table to let us know what he'll prepare for us. Ms. Sutton, can you leave the lawyer persona at the door? Please let's just enjoy each other's company.” I tilted my glass toward hers.

“Ms. Sutton?” She raised her brows as if I shouldn't have said her name.

“Yes, Ms. Sutton, you never fully introduced yourself to me.”

Her cheeks flushed red. “Oh my God, you must think I'm so rude. My name is Amanda Sutton.” She took another sip from her glass. I looked to the waitress to keep her glass full.

“No, not at all. You're as rude as any New Yorker. I'm used to it.”

“Are you here on business or coming back from business?” She changed the subject quickly.

“I live in Dubai, Los Angeles, and New York throughout the year. Most of my business is done in Dubai.”

She snuck a quick peak at my ring finger. I laid my left hand on the table for her to examine with her glances.

“Wow that must be hard on your family.”

“Actually, no. It's just me.”

“I don't believe you.” She playfully giggled. “There's no way you're single and straight!”

I laughed. “Should I be offended? I know a well-dressed man may seem suspect, but my stylist dresses me. I can't take credit for it, although sometimes I wish I could.”

“So do you distribute oil to refineries for purchase? Or do you go around like a salesman presenting your product to accumulate buyers?” She seemed interested.

“All of the above. I own a few oil rigs around the world so I'm always selling and buying. But enough about work. Can I ask what you do for fun?”

“Hmm, let's see . . .”

“If you must think about it, I'm guessing you haven't done anything fun lately.”

“You're absolutely right.” She sipped at her glass as I barely touched mine.

As long as she keeps drinking, it will be easier than taking candy from a baby,
I thought smiling. “You're beautiful and definitely need to have fun before you forget how.”

“I could only imagine what you do for fun,” she said seductively.

Is she already putty in my hands? She can't be this easy,
I thought. I could see the chef approaching followed by a server holding a tray.

“Mr. Tatum, how are you? And you, madam? I'm Chef Myrie,” he greeted us extending his hand.

“Hello, Chef, nice to meet you,” she said returning his light handshake.

“So, Chef Myrie, what's on the menu?” I jumped in.

He allowed the server to place the small plates in front of us. “These are just a few appetizers I prepared. They include all your favorites, some shrimp, some veggies, and a little bit of seared Kobe beef. Your main course will be my new favorite, curry lobster with small slices of Wagyu beef on a bed of greens. Excuse me, I haven't asked your guest if she's allergic to anything. Usually, you dine alone.” He looked to Amanda.

Amanda was too busy focusing on the food wafting through the air to even notice his concern.

“Amanda, you're not allergic to anything are you?”

“Huh? Umm, no not at all. This smells fantastic.”

“Great enjoy. Your main courses will be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Chef Myrie, I know you'll bring us your best.” He left the table giving me a thumbs-up behind Amanda's back.

Chef Myrie and I went way back since high school days. He came from old money. The day he graduated, his father bought him this restaurant. Even when he was in his teens he traveled abroad learning how to perfect his craft. We'd always been close so when I started my career of pleasing the ladies he afforded me just the place to wine and dine my clients. Depending on who I entertained, his services were always a great touch.

“This is great, Daniel. I gather you dine here all the time with your significant other.”

“I love his dishes. Chef Myrie worked with the finest in Europe, Japan, and Spain, but his specialty is a classic with a twist. He has all his signature dishes on the menu if you're not comfortable with what he's serving.” I avoided her implication.

“Not at all, I'm fine. So, you have a place in the city?”

“No, I prefer the suburbs. I do stay in the city, but it's never more than a night. I'd rather that my neighbors be at least a mile away. Besides, New York has the craziest city life Sunday through Sunday. That's not me. I like my privacy.”

After a little question-and-answer conversation, and another bottle of wine along with dinner, she was ready for picking.

“Amanda.” I stroked the back of her hand gently.

“Daniel,” she cooed.

“Can I show you how I like to have fun?”

“Now, Daniel, I'm not that easy. You can't expect me to fold after a couple bottles of wine. Now can you?” she said slapping my hand.

“Have I been a bad boy?” I encouraged. After what Diana told me pain was my definite in.

“You like to be punished?”

I felt her feet easing up my leg. She took my hand in hers and guided it to her mouth. She licked and sucked every finger as her feet rubbed on my stiff manhood. Amanda was good, but I was better. I removed her feet and scooted closer to her.

“Can you tame me, Amanda? Can you handle me?” I whispered into her ear and pushed her hand toward my crotch.

“I like to punish naughty boys, can you handle that?” she grabbed at my hardness.

I pushed my hand between her legs and pressed on her clit making her feel some pressure. Amanda's nipples poked through her tight dress forming perfectly round bumps. Her girls were ready to play. I pressed harder at her seed almost forcing her to moan. I felt her moistness when I teased her entrance. I pushed and pulled at her lace underwear until I ripped a hole exposing her wetness. I kept teasing her as I nibbled on her ear.

“I want to punish you and make you taste every inch of me,” she moaned loudly.

I squeezed at her clit causing her to shake and spread open her legs wider. She was dripping like an open faucet. Her expressions and loudness were transparent; I could have had her right there if I chose to. I decided on heading over to the hotel room to continue my pleasure phase with her.

“I think we should leave before we get kicked out. Let's get out of here.” I removed my hand from her warm, wet spot and licked it clean.

“I think that's a good idea.” She quickly scooted out the booth waiting for me anxiously to meet her needs.

As we hurried out the restaurant, she couldn't keep her hands off of me. When we got into the cab, she unbuckled my belt and yanked my dick out. She devoured my stiffness without a word from me. She sucked and jerked on until I exploded in her mouth. After she swallowed every drop she kissed me, pushing her tongue forcefully into my mouth. It was disgusting, but I tolerated it since there was a bigger motive. When the cab pulled up in front of the hotel she was the first one out the car. On the ride in the elevator her sadomasochistic ways started to erupt.

She slapped me across the face. “You better bend me over and shove your cock deep inside me.”

If Amanda thought she was going to smack me around and squeeze on my balls for the rest of the night, I had another surprise for her. We were both going to feel the pain.