Max wasn't entirely sure about taking his girlfriend to his work-place for another date. After all, their first date in the prestigious House of Mouse, though certainly not unsuccessful, was marked with his father's friends desperately trying to distract Goofy from ruining Max's date, creating and executing a terrifying self-fulfilling prophecy. Roxanne, on the other hand, seemed not to mind it at all, and was more than excited to revisit this famous place, trying to explain Max that their last time here wasn't at all a fiasco he remembered. And yet, from the moment they sat, Max was keyed up, though as far as Roxanne could see, nothing granted that kind of behaviour. Even the dessert - two goblets of ice-cream, served, quite appropriately, by penguins - didn't calm him properly. And so, when the audience erupted into applause, greeting the jazz band that stepped onto the stage, Roxanne used that moment to take matters into her hands.

She moved her chair closer to his and leaned for a kiss just as the lights around them died out. The first notes of music from the band on the stage filled the air, and for a short, fleeting moment, Max was truly calm, embraced in a kiss with the woman he loved so much, hidden in the romantic, near-darkness of the hall.

Then, he felt her hand on his crotch, and things went wild.

A single, low "Hyuck" escaped Max's mouth, before he forcibly covered it with his hands to prevent them from getting heard. Roxanne giggled under her breath and took a good, long look at the nearby tables to see if anyone has noticed either him, or the slightly angled position of hers. Once she was sure that they were safe, she pushed his fly down, and dug her fingers in the layers of his underwear to let his length out. Max couldn't understand how Roxanne remained so stoic while doing it; she stared at the orchestra in front of her, pretending she was interested in their music, but every once in a while the corner of her mouth rose in a devilish smile, as she prepared the instruments for her performance.

Max expected her fingers to be at least a bit cold from touching the goblet of ice-cream, but instead, her embrace was soothingly warm, though the first contact still managed to make him shudder. Roxanne tested the waters by changing the grip slightly, wondering what would be the best speed to de-stress her boyfriend in this situation. Completely ignoring the band now, she never broke the contact with his eyes, and carefully monitored his breathing and all his tries to hide his moans. Once she was settled, she begun her embracing caresses to the rhythm of the slow, moody music.

Instead of just pumping him, Roxanne only moved her wrist and fingers to perform tiny, delicate, vertical moves of the skin around his length, adding a twist of her palm every time, which nevertheless was enough for Max to grow stiff in mere seconds. She felt the familiar throbbing veins under the touch of her fingers, and traced them slowly with her thumb, all the way from base nearly to his tip, wishing she could also caress his testicles, undoubtedly covered in goosebumps by now.

But it was the ring on her finger that made that handjob extraordinary and different from all the others Max received; short brushes of cold, sturdy metal, compared with her delicate, gentle skin created the difference that electrified Max, stimulating him far more if she just used her hand alone. Somewhere deep inside of him, Max was selfishly thanking himself for the present he gave her last month that was now repaying itself in the best and most stimulating way possible.

Though lost in his pleasure, Max's paranoia about being discovered hasn't died out completely; he still kept looking around, glancing at other tables, or trying to predict the movements of other waiters that could have spotted something odd about their behaviour. But the guests seemed to be enchanted by the music of the band playing on stage and paid little to no attention to him or his girlfriend, though at some point Roxanne cupped his jaw and turned his head towards her, leaning for another kiss, just to potentially shy any onlookers away. The kiss allowed Max to vent a fraction of the moans he's been holding up and were bubbling in his throat from Roxanne's expert touches into her mouth. Roxanne welcomed them, as well the intrusion of his tongue, and for a moment she got lost in delivering Max the best handjob possible; she leaned even further and sped up her moves, properly pumping him under his table, nearly missing the underside. For a second, Max thought she was about to dive between his legs and took him into her mouth, and only his sharp push brought Roxanne back to her senses. As she leaned back, Roxanne instinctively fixed her hair with her other hand and took a discreet look around, once again finding that probably no one has caught her in a bit more feverish state she predicted she might have been.

She turned to Max, and despite the dim light, she noticed that the little outburst of her raw, sexual energy made all the change she could have hoped for. Max was gripping the edge of the table hard, which meant that she should change her tactics; she moved her hand closer towards his head, brushing the exposed skin with her fingertips, to simultaneously prevent too much pressure, and add just enough of it, to end her delightful torture. Though she couldn't see it, Roxanne knew that his head was glistening with his pre-cum, providing a bit of much needed lubricant that only sped up the inevitable.

If judged just by sounds alone, someone could have thought that Max was just hiccuping, but for Roxanne, the several sudden splashes of warmth against her open palm was the proof that she did her job right. Max writhed in his chair uncomfortably throughout the length of his orgasm, sharing nervous look with Roxanne, who despite the equally uncomfortable feeling, was still wearing the same sexy and alluring smile throughout the whole experience. She closed her fingers around his tip, trying to contain as much of his seed as possible, without staining his trousers, or the tablecloth.

At which point Roxanne managed to sneak a bunch of bundled napkins underneath the table, Max never knew, but it was the odd, slightly rougher texture of them, wiping him clean, that marked the end of the extraordinary event. Roxanne had an impeccable timing: the same moment the music stopped, and as the audience begun clapping, Roxanne quickly pulled her hands from underneath the table, scrubbing her right one vigorously with the same piece of fabric that contained his release and tossed it into her bag, hiding any traces of their wrong-doing. But just before she did that, and the lights were fully turned on again, Roxanne discreetly put it to her mouth, pretending to wipe her lips with it, and he was sure she saw her tongue flicking against it. And when their eyes met again, her foxy smile told him he was correct.

The commotion and murmurs around the room resumed as quickly, as it died out a few minutes earlier, giving them a bit more privacy to talk, though Roxanne still leaned to whisper, as in in fear they might have been listened to.

- Feeling better?

Max wasn't sure to say; his fly was still open, though with his crotch hidden underneath the tablecloth, only two guests in the room knew about it. It took him another minute to ease his mind, and once he was done carefully fixing his problem, he was able to utter a response. It seemed that Roxanne's plan to fight fire with fire has worked; somehow the prospect of getting caught having sex in the restaurant has pushed away the fear that his father or any of his friends might embarrass them again.

- Uh. Yeah - he wheezed - Thanks, that was-

- You are welcome, Maxie.

She took his hand, and leaned again to give him a kiss on his cheek.

- And before you ask, you can repay me next week, at the movies. - she whispered - I'm gonna wear a skirt, so you'll have a bit easier job...

Without waiting for his answer, Roxanne leaned back and hungrily dug into her ice-cream dessert that has partially melted during the band's performance (though Max wouldn't be surprised if it turned out it was due to the steamy hot atmosphere of their shenanigans). But if Max thought that maybe his sundae would cool him down, Roxanne scooped a bit of cream that fell to the table, and licked it off her finger with a bit more dedication it deserved, savouring all the flavours that lingered on it.