Takeout: Sushi

Dinner is Served

Food was sexy, or at least I thought it could be. It was about the setting, the ambiance, and the flavors. I had always loved trying new food experiences. I suppose you could call me a foodie. There was a joy I found when a flavor combination hit my tongue. There was comfort when I could walk into a restaurant and feel the energy. Enjoyment was powerful.

However, there was also pleasure in other things. I was ever the curious one and when I found a company that combined food with other forms for pleasure, I applied. Little did I know that my application would be accepted so quickly and that I would be presented with an experience that would fill my enjoyment cup to the brim.

I received a phone call that morning informing me that I had been requested for a private dinner. I had only been doing group settings to say the least. I had done the occasional after dinner special, but a private dinner was a much more intimate setting. Also, depending on the customer it could be one of the best meals of the week.

Nerves kick in as I am being prepared. I was to be the platter for a CEO of an up and coming company. He was head of the marketing division and know for his keen eye, quick mind, and decisiveness. There were times he was apparently cutthroat, but he had an appetite for good food. He was not just a food; he was a food connoisseur. He also had a particular taste in pleasure and visuals were very important as well as performance. My photo and my biography had caught his eye on the private newsletter that was sent out to our customers. He just had to have me right away because it had been a "bad day."

I am decorated on a long, dark wood dining table. The man had taste, everything was very sleep and modern with splashes of color here and there. He had selected me to lay in a bed of dark green foliage. The greens were so beautiful against my skin and hair. He selected pink flowers, to adorn my breast and over my stomach. He had ivy twist around me and a fig leaf to be placed over my most delicate flower between my thighs. The sushi was placed delicately and as I slow my breath, I close my eyes to give them a rest before he enters the room to dine.

The door opens. I hear the click and slowly open my eyes and keep my lips neutral, but slightly parted. I had selected a pink gloss that would give the shine and subtle color that I thought he would appreciate.

"Mmm."

My body wants to respond but I will my face to stay emotionless and fight the urge to press my thighs together. He lets out a masculine sound of a man who is not only hungry, but impressed by the spread laid out before him. The private feast he wants to consume after his bad day at work.

I feel his fingers trace over my shoulder and down my arm. He places a finger on my wrist to feel my pulse. He stands beside the table and our eyes meet. The brown color darkens slightly, and his full lips smirk.

"Beautiful."

I blink slowly in response as he lifts his hand and takes up a pair of chopsticks. He takes his time selecting pieces of sushi and sashimi. He places them on his plate and not once does he get distracted. He gazes at every inch of me and at times pinches my skin with the chopsticks, waiting for me to flinch or jump up from the table. I don't. It is his way of testing my devotion and respect for the food experience.

He chuckles and shakes his head with satisfaction as he sits down at the table. He sips his drink and I wish I could see how his lips press against the rim of the glass. I can't stop thinking about his lips. They are the type of lips that knew how to hold food and how to savor it. They are also the type of lips that could pull and push. The lips that would leave marks on your body, but it would bring pleasure and pain together into a delicious combination.

The suit he wears is a beautiful color of a dark royal blue. Normally I thought blue suits were too plain, but he wears it well. It is perfectly tailored to his body and shows off his broad shoulders. I imagine running my hands over the material while straddling him on the chair.