lower my voice. “And if I don’t wear this? What will you do?”
She crosses her arms. “I’ll leave.”
Pffft. She won’t leave. She’s bluffing. It’s her goddamn interview. But if wearing this brings me one step closer to her panties, I’ll willingly submit to her request. I’m not one to back down from a challenge.
I lower the blindfold over my eyes, and savor the last glimpse of Ella’s beautiful face before darkness descends.
“Fine. Have it your way, though you should know that this whole blind dining experience could backfire and prove to be a real turn-on. If that should be the case, please know that you’re in imminent danger. I hope you have adequate health insurance.”
I hear her laugh … I think . And now there’s a sound of pouring liquid. Christ, I hope it’s alcohol and not some socially inept drunk peeing on our table.
“Miss Bryant, do you insist that every bachelor you take to dinner wears a blindfold?”
“Only bachelors that need to learn restraint. Here.” I feel something cold attack my knuckles. I fumble around in front of me, and then relax. It’s only a glass. I bring it up to my nose and inhale. Merlot. Excellent. I bring it to my mouth and try to avoid spillage, but the wet sensation spreading across my crotch tells me that I’ve failed.
Slipping two fingers under the elastic of my blindfold, I try to hook it over my ears.
“Don’t you dare!”
Christ, she can’t seriously expect me to eat under these conditions. “I’ll start with a few quick-fire questions,” she announces in a measured tone. “What’s your zodiac sign?”
“My birthday is tenth of August. What does that make me?”
“Egoistic. Sexual orientation?”
Like she even has to ask. “Ella, let’s just say that if I ever found myself buck naked and frolicking in the Garden of Eden, I’d choose Eve over Steve.”
There’s silence. And then. “What do you do to unwind?”
“I play the guitar. Work out. Dine out with beautiful women …” I growl the last three words.
She sighs. “Right. So, no chess?”
“Sure, though I’ve yet to find anyone smart enough to stand up to my Sicilian defense,” I tell her in a hushed tone. “We should test that out some time.”
I can’t vouch for a heightened taste sensation yet, but I gotta admit that this temporary loss of vision is great fantasy spank fuel. Right now I’m picturing a nude Ella wearing nothing but a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. She’s taking notes and sucking seductively on the end of a pen.
Hot damn. And I’m hard .
“What do you look for in a woman?”
I smirk. “I’m a leg man. I prefer golden locks, and reserve a particular fetish for women dressed in purple. I’ve heard it’s a sign of sexual frustration, and women who wear it are subconsciously begging to be satiated by handsome bachelors with expertise in oral sex.”
How could she not like that answer?
I hear a dull thud followed by the clattering of crockery. Sounds like our food arrived. This is without doubt the least fun I’ve had on a date since Yasmine from our HR department snagged a tooth on my ball sack.
Frigging bumper cars; they should be made illegal.
“Do you have any food allergies?”
I shake my head. Who writes these crazy ass questions? The clanging of plates signals the arrival of our food. There’s more than a hint of a challenge in her voice when she tells me. “Taste this.” I fumble around in my seat, and trace my finger over the offering in front of me. It’s warm, solid, and smooth. I bring it to my mouth and bite down.
It’s soft, yet crunchy.
And then I realize the truth. I’m chewing on the exoskeleton of a king shrimp. I rip away my blindfold and covertly spit into a napkin.
“You win, Miss Bryant, but the blindfold stays off. I’ll be on my best behavior. I must say that I find your methods of interrogation very edgy. Have you considered a career with the FBI?”
She shakes her head and I continue. “In all
She crosses her arms. “I’ll leave.”
Pffft. She won’t leave. She’s bluffing. It’s her goddamn interview. But if wearing this brings me one step closer to her panties, I’ll willingly submit to her request. I’m not one to back down from a challenge.
I lower the blindfold over my eyes, and savor the last glimpse of Ella’s beautiful face before darkness descends.
“Fine. Have it your way, though you should know that this whole blind dining experience could backfire and prove to be a real turn-on. If that should be the case, please know that you’re in imminent danger. I hope you have adequate health insurance.”
I hear her laugh … I think . And now there’s a sound of pouring liquid. Christ, I hope it’s alcohol and not some socially inept drunk peeing on our table.
“Miss Bryant, do you insist that every bachelor you take to dinner wears a blindfold?”
“Only bachelors that need to learn restraint. Here.” I feel something cold attack my knuckles. I fumble around in front of me, and then relax. It’s only a glass. I bring it up to my nose and inhale. Merlot. Excellent. I bring it to my mouth and try to avoid spillage, but the wet sensation spreading across my crotch tells me that I’ve failed.
Slipping two fingers under the elastic of my blindfold, I try to hook it over my ears.
“Don’t you dare!”
Christ, she can’t seriously expect me to eat under these conditions. “I’ll start with a few quick-fire questions,” she announces in a measured tone. “What’s your zodiac sign?”
“My birthday is tenth of August. What does that make me?”
“Egoistic. Sexual orientation?”
Like she even has to ask. “Ella, let’s just say that if I ever found myself buck naked and frolicking in the Garden of Eden, I’d choose Eve over Steve.”
There’s silence. And then. “What do you do to unwind?”
“I play the guitar. Work out. Dine out with beautiful women …” I growl the last three words.
She sighs. “Right. So, no chess?”
“Sure, though I’ve yet to find anyone smart enough to stand up to my Sicilian defense,” I tell her in a hushed tone. “We should test that out some time.”
I can’t vouch for a heightened taste sensation yet, but I gotta admit that this temporary loss of vision is great fantasy spank fuel. Right now I’m picturing a nude Ella wearing nothing but a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. She’s taking notes and sucking seductively on the end of a pen.
Hot damn. And I’m hard .
“What do you look for in a woman?”
I smirk. “I’m a leg man. I prefer golden locks, and reserve a particular fetish for women dressed in purple. I’ve heard it’s a sign of sexual frustration, and women who wear it are subconsciously begging to be satiated by handsome bachelors with expertise in oral sex.”
How could she not like that answer?
I hear a dull thud followed by the clattering of crockery. Sounds like our food arrived. This is without doubt the least fun I’ve had on a date since Yasmine from our HR department snagged a tooth on my ball sack.
Frigging bumper cars; they should be made illegal.
“Do you have any food allergies?”
I shake my head. Who writes these crazy ass questions? The clanging of plates signals the arrival of our food. There’s more than a hint of a challenge in her voice when she tells me. “Taste this.” I fumble around in my seat, and trace my finger over the offering in front of me. It’s warm, solid, and smooth. I bring it to my mouth and bite down.
It’s soft, yet crunchy.
And then I realize the truth. I’m chewing on the exoskeleton of a king shrimp. I rip away my blindfold and covertly spit into a napkin.
“You win, Miss Bryant, but the blindfold stays off. I’ll be on my best behavior. I must say that I find your methods of interrogation very edgy. Have you considered a career with the FBI?”
She shakes her head and I continue. “In all
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