Sorry it’s taken me a few days to catch you up on my first date with Michael. I wasn’t intentionally neglecting you so soon after starting to confide in you again. The thing is, I’ve been walking on air for days and just came down from the clouds today with a bit of a bump. You see, my budding romance may be about to hit a potential hurdle. Let me tell you all about it…
Michael hammered on the front door at seven on the dot, just like he said he would. I didn’t answer it until three minutes past. It wasn’t because I was scared, though, or even because I wasn’t ready. It was because of Wyatt. Almost as if he’d sensed that I was about to go out and enjoy myself, he’d turned up at the door.
Erica steered him into the kitchen so I wouldn’t have to talk to him, but he’d tried his best to get up the stairs to see me. I’d stood at the top of them in my bare feet, listening to him rabbit on at my housemate about making amends. Erica called bullshit faster than I would have and I heard her making a dozen excuses as to why he had to leave through the back door. She’d known that Michael was due to be knocking on the front one, and neither of us wanted my past colliding with what could possibly turn out to be my future.
When I finally answered the door, Michael was halfway down the drive. The way he looked at me when he peered over his shoulder made me feel sick. Everything in me was screaming that I’d blown it, that he was going to walk away.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t find my keys to unlock the door. I hoped you’d have heard me yelling through the open window.”
Turning to face me, Michael cocked his head. “Tasha?”
“Uh, yes?” Did he really not know who I was or was he playing with me? I tugged the hem of my short black dress, certain that I’d been right when I’d told Erica he’d hate the red rose print.
“Wow.” Blushing, he raised his voice from a whisper. “I knew you’d be beautiful without your clown make-up, but I didn’t realise how beautiful. You know, I kinda cyber-stalked you, looking for photos in your Facebook and Insta accounts, but I quickly came to the conclusion that you’re very careful about not getting your face online.”
Laughing, I slipped my feet into my black high-heeled shoes and closed the door. Michael met me at the bottom of the stairs, hand outstretched, eyes fixed on my bare legs.
“There’s a few on there, if you know where to look. But you’re right, I don’t really like having my picture online. That’s how I met my last partner and it didn’t end well, so I deleted all of my photos rather than mess on hunting for ones with him in them.”
Slipping through the taxi door he held open for me, I shuffled along, letting him join me on the back seat. “I’ll ask you about that sometime,” he said. “But not tonight. I want to know you better before I start digging around in your past.”
His hand was on my knee as the taxi pulled into the road. By the time we reached the first set of traffic lights it was on my thigh. I shifted, intending to discourage him, but that’s not what happened. For some reason I parted my legs, biting my lip to suppress a smile when Michael huffed out an almost silent laugh.
I’d meant to put on the black lace knickers that matched my bra but just…hadn’t.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the back of the drivers’ head as Michael’s fingers lightly teased my labia, I wondered if he thought I was cheap. I’d given him sex within five minutes of meeting him, and I’d indulged him in his game of drunken phone sex. Now I was parting my legs further, letting him finger me in public. I couldn’t even blame my behaviour on being drunk because I hadn’t had a drop past my lips.
Leaning in, Michael bit my earlobe. “You get wet so fast,” he murmured. “I fucking love that about you.”
My hand was on the bulge in his black jeans. He was so hard! I considered asking the driver to turn around and take us back to my place, but if I did I’d have to introduce him to Erica, and I wasn’t fool enough to think that Wyatt had gone home, either.
So I kept quiet, finally meeting his eyes when one of his long fingers pushed through my folds, sinking inside of me to the knuckle. His blue irises were almost invisible, eclipsed by his still dilating pupils. He was moving slowly, probably hoping to avoid drawing the driver’s attention. I felt his finger curl, felt the tip pressing into my g-spot.
Shaking my head, I grabbed his wrist. I was not squirting in a frigging taxi.
Michael pouted when I pulled his hand out from between my legs. It wasn’t a disappointed pout, but more of a cute one. Good God, Diary, I nearly died when he raised his hand to his lips and drew his juice slicked middle finger into his mouth. He didn’t hold my gaze, though. His lashes fluttered for a few seconds, stopping when his lids closed. I watched his nostrils flare at the taste of me and my belly flipped as though I was halfway through a rollercoaster ride.
“You can have more of that later on, if you like.” Woah! Bold much? I never spoke to men that way, it was so out of character for me. But then, so was letting someone finger fuck me in the back of a taxi.
Michael laughed, stroking my flaming hot cheek. “I was hoping you’d say that. Nothing I eat tonight is going to be even half as delicious as you are.”
The taxi pulled up at a restaurant right in the middle of town. I wasn’t usually the type to eat in posh places, but I could see my date was. He was comfortable as we were greeted at the door and as we were led to our seats. I loved that he pulled out my chair for me, but my heart could have done without the full fisted ass grope he gave me as I was sitting down. The place was packed, what if someone had seen him do it?!
After smacking a chaste kiss on my cheek, he took the seat opposite me and winked. “I wonder if I got you wet enough to leave a damp patch on that velvet seat you’re sitting on.”
A second after he said it the waiter rocked up at our table, offering me the wine list with a flourish. The poor guy stood there for an age before Michael chuckled. “House white okay with you?” he asked.
All I could do was nod. My stomach was doing all kinds of aerobics, while my brain and heart activity shot off the charts. Something about Michael made things like food and water seem trivial. Like they’d suddenly become less vital to my continued existence than he was. It was far too soon to be thinking that way, though, so I put on my game face and chose my meal when the waiter came back.
Michael ordered his, and then as soon as the waiter left us alone he pinned me in his curious gaze. “You are so nervous tonight,” he said. He was smiling but his eyes were narrowed. “Is that anything to do with the blonde rugby type that showed up at your door a few minutes before I did?”
The sip of wine I’d intended to take turned into a gulp and I nearly choked on it. “No,” I said truthfully. “No, it’s not about…he’s not important, forget him.”
“Right. Are you jumpy because of what I did in the taxi on the way here?”
That wasn’t it either, but now that he’d got me thinking about it again I couldn’t stop. Peering around to make sure the waiter wasn’t on his way back, I placed my hands in my lap and leant forward.
“No. I’m nervous because I keep thinking about what you’re going to do in the taxi on the way home.”
Christ, if that expression got any hotter I’d melt into a bubbling pile of helplessness right at his feet. His gaze was holding mine. I couldn’t look away, or move, or breathe. Michael kept staring, not saying a thing until I dragged in a breath to stop myself passing out.
“You think I’m waiting until we’re in the taxi?” Ugh, his voice had deepened so much he barely sounded like himself. “Just so we’re clear, I am definitely fucking you on the way home, but we’re not leaving this table until I’ve watched you have an orgasm. I want to see your face this time, Tasha. You are going to make that happen for me, right?”
My jaw audibly cracked, Diary. I was stunned into silence, unable to think of a way to respond. There had to be at least twenty tables in the restaurant, and not one of them was unoccupied. The tables closest to us were taken up by a grey haired couple, a pair of fresh from college guys who had the same first date vibe about them that I was feeling, and a half dozen thirty somethings who were celebrating a divorce, if the sash around one woman’s shoulder could be believed.
All these people surrounding us and my date wanted me to masturbate for him. No amount of table cloth manoeuvring could hide that shit. Someone would see me and we would be busted. So naturally, I gave the only answer I could.
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want,” he nodded. The waiter arrived with our food but Michael kept talking like he wasn’t even there. “It isn’t all I want, far from it in fact, but it’s definitely what I want most right now. As soon as you’re ready to start, I’m ready to watch.”
Popping a piece of chicken in my mouth, I started to chew, my attention flicking from Michael to the old lady and back, then to the happy divorcee who was announcing to the table opposite hers that she had recently been ‘debrided’. Despite my ravaged nerves I laughed, wondering if she knew how accurately inaccurate the word she’d used was.
“You have a killer smile, Tasha,” Michael said, claiming my attention again. “I hope I get to see it often. I hope I get to be the one to make it happen.”
It’s funny, Diary, but I’d spent the morning thinking more or less the same thing about him. In some ways we truly were on the same level, and I wanted nothing more than to make him smile for me, right there at that table.
So, shifting my right leg out to the side, I held his gaze and slipped my hand between my legs. “Just so you know, I am wet enough to leave a stain on this chair.”
Michael stilled, a piece of steak poised between his teeth. “Really?”
“Really. My dress is soaked, my thighs are soaked, my pussy is soaked and so this seat is soaked. See?”
Not daring to look anywhere but at him, I held out my hand, moving it under the lights as if I were showing off an engagement ring. My wet fingers didn’t glitter as much as a diamond would, but they mesmerised my date all the same.
Hand back between my legs, I picked up my fork and carried on with my meal. Michael tried to do the same, but he kept pausing, leaning in as though straining to hear what I was doing. My fingers were on my clit, inside of me, back on my clit again. I shifted my hips so I could stroke my anus then, with a deep shiver, moved back to my clit.
I was so close to orgasm, watching Michael watching me, and I was so pleased it was possible for me to keep quiet when I came. And the lord knew I needed to come quietly right then. Needed the soft rattle of the glasses on top of the shaking table to be the only noise I made.
My pussy clenched and, to my horror, the fork I had in my hand clattered to my plate. Everyone turned to face us as I sat in my chair and quaked out a toe curling orgasm. The waiter hurried over with a glass of water, and the old lady wrapped her hand around her husband’s arm with worry.
Michael turned his red cheeked face to the room and told everyone I was quite alright. “I’ve already called a taxi, I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”
Then I was being ushered outside on entirely unreliable legs, and quickly bundled into the waiting taxi. Michael’s mouth was on mine, his hand beneath my dress.
“Oh my God, your cunt is still fucking twitching,” he groaned.
One finger inside me, then two, and before long I was coming again. I couldn’t believe the way he lifted me around in the back of that cab, and I couldn’t believe the guy driving it didn’t even look in his rear view mirror when I ended up sat on Michael’s knee, bracing my hands against the head rest of the front passenger seat while he drove his cock into me.
By the time the taxi rolled up outside of my house, I was coming again and this time Michael came too.
The car door opened. I was bundled out and kissed right up until my back slammed off the front door. “Will you think of me when you’re going to sleep tonight?” I whispered as he fished my keys from my bag and unlocked the door.
“I haven’t thought about anything else since the day we met. Listen, I’ve been invited to a pool party on Friday and I’d love for you to come with me. I want you to meet my friends, Tasha.”
“I’d love to.” I still couldn’t breathe properly. “Just let me know what time and I’ll be ready.”
One more mind twisting kiss and Michael was off down the path and into the street. He waited until I was inside and the door was closed before he got back in the taxi.
Oh, Diary, I can’t wait to see him again, but I’m absolutely terrified. When I woke up this morning there was a text waiting for me. Friday is still on, but Michael says he can’t wait another four days and wants to come here for dinner.
Erica invited a bunch of people around just yesterday, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Michael no, and now he’s going to have to meet my friends. I just hope none of them ask any awkward questions, because Erica will answer them all and I don’t know what would be worse; them finding out about the things I’ve done with Michael, or Michael finding out about the things I did before we met…
If you liked this story why not check out the previous installment? Dear Diary: The Midnight Phone Call