Dr. Stud

In the meantime, Bella has just continued batting her eyelashes at Rob, who seems to be enjoying the show. Slowly he turns back toward her, eventually resting his elbow on the table and then his cheek against his fist. He looks like a schoolboy in love. She blushes charmingly.

“Anyway… like I was saying…” she continues, grinning brilliantly again. “It's just been amazing. Everything. It's like something out of a fairytale! Did you try the smoked salmon? Unf, it’s so good.”

And with that brilliant little segue, Rob starts eating. Bella keeps asking me and Dillon well-placed questions while Rob stuffs his face. She's conducting the interview, and the poor guy is so overwhelmed he doesn't even know it. But the upshot is that she is curating the whole experience, while he loads up. Clever.

After about ten minutes, Rob has a whole story: how we met, how we immediately fell for each other, and how uncharacteristically selfless and supportive Dillon has been throughout the whole thing.

As if on cue, Wolfgang arrives again, this time with two servers bearing plates of pan roasted chicken with extra golden mashed potatoes, just like I like from his Miami restaurant.

“Are you ready for the second course?” Wolfgang asks, clapping his hands together eagerly as the servers display their plates with pride.

“Yes, please!” Rob answers immediately, blotting his face with his napkin.

His enthusiasm is actually infectious. Now that Bella has concluded her narrative portion of the evening, we can finally just relax and enjoy the meal. The Montrachet chardonnay is velvety on my tongue, reminding me of all the other velvety pleasures I'd like to experience tonight.

For a while, we all just bask in the visceral delight of Wolfgang’s expert cooking. The chicken is perfect, even if it’s a little humble for a magical dinner. But it’s too warm for duck anyway.

I watch Bella as she eats, the way she holds her fork so delicately, but takes substantial bites. She has a deep, throbbing hunger in her, I can tell. I saw it in her eyes when she demanded to see my cock. All remaining traces of shyness and doubt had left her as she totally gave into her passions.

I cannot wait to see that part of her again. It’s precious.

When the chef arrives again, I hold up a hand. Then I turn to Bella and stroke her cheek slowly.

“Chef, if you wouldn't mind… I think we need to be retiring early. Is that all right with you?”

Bella smiles, biting her lip delicately. Though I know it’s for Rob’s benefit, she means it, deep down.

“Certainly!” the Chef barks amiably. “It was a grand pleasure to meet you. All of you! Auf wiedersehen!”

I kiss Bella slowly, tasting the wine, the spices, and a rising desire in her breath. She sighs, then nods eagerly, like she can’t wait to be alone too.

“Oh, brother,” Dillon says.

But to his credit, he stands, taking Rob gently by the elbow. He thanks him politely for coming and ushers him back out of the tent.

When they’re safely out of earshot, Bella slumps slightly in her chair, pantomiming exhaustion.

“Oh my God, what was that?” she murmurs urgently, keeping her voice low enough that no one could hear us outside the tent.

“That was your best performance yet,” I quip. “I was totally impressed. You had him eating out of your hand!”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, yeah, Rob… he just needed some guidance.”

“No, I’m serious,” I insist. “You should get an Oscar for that level of acting.”

“Yeah, that’s funny. At least I got some chicken!”

“Oh, Wolfgang can't possibly be in love with you too,” I joke, quaffing the rest of my wine.

I really do want to get out here, right now. My body is roasting, hungrier than it was ten minutes ago. Every time she moves, I can hear her skin softly rustling against itself. I need to open her up, get her into a bed. To lay her down properly nude and have a good look at her. Drink her in.

“But, Dillon! Was he trying to sabotage the whole meeting? What is he thinking?”

“He's thinking he wants a piece of you too. Can you blame him?” I murmur, drawing her close. She melts in my arms.

Now that we're alone, the sounds of the fountain splashing fill the tent and I'm aware of the dense humidity and the blue and purple lights. It really is quite romantic. I wish we'd started out this way, alone and comfortable.

“Hey, don't start without me,” Dillon says, entering quickly and snapping the canvas closed behind him. At least he's discreet enough to do that. In a moment he's on her other side, drawing up close as well, his hands slipping around her middle. She raises her arms, allowing us both to palm her taut, round flesh strategically. His hand slips between her knees and starts to pull them open. In moments his fingers slide behind her neck and tip his face toward hers so he can kiss her long and slow, his cheeks caved in, his eyes tightly closed. For a moment, I do feel sort of bad. He has waited quite a while, while I’ve been able to enjoy my desire for her out in the open.