Page 15 of Sinister Games

Once again it was as if he read my mind. What was even crazier was I believed him. Throwing my shoulders back, I added a little sass to my walk as I followed him through the dining room and up a set of stairs.

Servers were rushing past us carrying place settings and chairs while we got several strange looks from guests filing out, carrying their own wine and martini glasses. Some looked curious while others just plain annoyed or angry. When we entered the room, I could see why.

The entire long room was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the main dining room. It was obvious the restaurant had cleared it out for Richard, despite it being filled with diners.

Tugging on his hand, I waited till he leaned down to whisper, “Did they really clear out this room just for you?”

His only response was a smile and another wink.

We were seated at the far end. As I slid onto the high-backed black leather chair, I leaned over to look out the nearest window. I could just see the arms of the bartenders as they vigorously shook shiny silver cocktail shakers below. The room must jut out right over the bar. With the champagne bubble lights at eye level it felt almost as if we were floating.

A waiter wearing a crisp white shirt with a long black apron approached our table. As he handed each of us our menus, he greeted Richard warmly in Greek. “Καλησπ?ρα σας κ?ριε. Ε?ναι πολ? ευχ?ριστο να ξαπλ?σετε ξαν? μαζ? μας.”

“Καλησπ?ρα, Νικ?λας, π?ς ε?ναι ο πατ?ρας σου;” responded Richard smoothly as he opened the menu.

What? The man speaks Greek?

“Πολ? καλ?, κ?ριε, θα ε?ναι ευχαριστημ?νος που ξ?ρει ?τι ρωτ?σατε γι ‘αυτ?ν. Αυτ? το βρ?δυ, αφρ?δες ? αδι?κοπο νερ?;” responded the waiter.

“Αφρ?δης,” answered Richard.

“Very good. Would you care to hear the specials?” asked the waiter in English as he poured water in both of our glasses.

Richard turned to me. “Do you have a preference or should I just order for us both?”

Taking the cloth napkin off the table, I flipped it onto my lap in what I hoped was a sufficiently cavalier yet sophisticated manner. Shrugging, I replied, “I trust you. Order what you like.”

Richard nodded then turned to the waiter. What followed was an animated conversation in Greek discussing what I could only assume were the menu options. They could have been talking about the latest football match for all I knew.

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I picked up my water glass, took a sip and started to choke a little bit. I wasn’t expecting it to be sparkling and the bubbles tickled my nose.

Richard placed a soothing hand on my back as he sent me a questioning look. Waving him off, I cleared my throat and tried not to draw any more stupid attention to myself. The good thing was he kept his hand on my back, slowly rubbing it in small circles. I leaned into his touch a bit.

It wasn’t like I had never been to a fancy restaurant before but this was a far cry from the typical nice steakhouses I was used to in America. Strangely though, every time I felt overwhelmed or a little out of my depth, Richard would flash me a quick smile or wink or squeeze my hand and suddenly everything felt right again.

As long as he said it was okay, it must be okay.

This must be what women usually liked about dating older men. This feeling as though they were in control. It was so much more pleasant than having to be the one to decide all the time.

What do you want to do?

I don’t know, you choose.

Where do you want to eat?

I don’t care. You decide.

Not with Richard; he not only chose the restaurant, he decided what we would eat as well. At that very moment, he and the waiter were having a lively conversation over a second smaller menu which I figured was the wine list. I could get used to this whole “the man taking charge” thing. How exciting to have a man actually plan out a date, and an impromptu one at that!

Wonder what he’ll plan for our second date?

Perhaps I was getting a bit ahead of myself but I really liked him and considering he took me to the museum and now dinner, he must be at least interested in me. Let’s not forget the hard cock pressed against your back earlier, my traitorous mind interjected. My thighs clenched as I squirmed in my seat. The feel of the soft leather against the backs of my thighs certainly didn’t help matters.

“Is your chair uncomfortable? Should I have Nikolas bring you another?”

“No! No! I’m fine,” I sputtered as I grabbed my water glass and took a pretend sip to cover my embarrassment. Judging by the amused glint in his eyes, I swear he read my thoughts and knew their kinky bend.

A line of five servers all dressed in the same white shirt and black apron uniform approached our table. Four of them circled around. At an invisible signal from Nikolas, a server reached over my right side and placed a champagne flute on the table, then a second one poured. Another invisible signal from Nikolas and someone on my left placed the first course in front of me.

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