I was very glad he skipped the hug and kiss when greeting me. As we were being escorted into the dining room and back to a small private room, I heard some of the dinners asking each other, "Who are they?" I must admit it felt good to be noticed.I didn't notice them, but they saw me, or I should say Judith, my ex-wife did. She was sitting with her rich husband, Mr. Jonathon Huntington Smyth and another couple. I guess I didn't notice them because they were occupying one of those very poor tables near the kitchen doors.Not exactly the place one would want to sit for a nice dinner.Angela and I had a marvelous meal with more waiters in attendance than were in the main dining area. (I swear, or so it seemed) When our meal was completed our coats were returned to us. We weren't required to stand in line at the coat check. The maître d' helped Angela on with her coat and adjusted my scarf.The Rolls was waiting at the curb for us. Our driver was ignoring the nasty looks from people trying. Well after all she did to me on the couch, she is going to pay for her actions. “What do you mean? Can’t I go pee?” she looks up longingly at me and adds, “please.” “No, I’m sorry my dear, but you are going to have to wait.” I lean over and her head tilts back and edges forward to meet my own. Our lips touch, my right hand grabs the back of her head catching a clump of her hair in the process, and my left hand gropes her breasts. Her lips are sublime. I can feel their soft texture against my own. I press my tongue forward and she lets it slip through her lips and brush up against hers. She moves her tongue forward and I suck on it. Her tongue tastes incredible. I can get a hint of salt that I know is my own, but it is overpowered by the buildup of saliva in her own mouth. I don’t care what she says, she was clearly wanting this, but I suppose playing hard-to-get pays off. As I keep rubbing her lips and hair, I slide my arm off her breasts and down her side, then her stomach.
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