"Should I bring some bread for the table?" This waiter looked extra smug, his nose pointed slightly up in the air like the beak of a bird that was looking toward the sky.
Peter grimaced as he responded, "Yes, please," watching the young man walk back toward the kitchen before continuing the story the waiter had interrupted. "For whatever reason, the only animals she wanted to see at the zoo were the snow monkeys. We literally stayed at the monkey exhibit for three hours. Just looking at fucking monkeys. Literally. It must have been mating season or something, because they were going at it like, well, horny monkeys. Thank god she let me close the deal, or I would have had major blue balls."
"Ugh, Peter, you're so gross," Mindy said, rolling her eyes. "Why did you ever break up with Lauren, anyway?"
Peter rolled his eyes, taking a giant gulp of his beer. "Little miss neurosurgeon had some serious gone-to-town-on nipples. I'm talking chewed up erasers. I'm never dating a woman with a baby again."
Mindy's reply was cut off when she felt Danny's hand sliding from her knee up her thigh from and under her skirt. She shot him a look, wondering if he was seriously thinking of doing this while they were in a public place with all of their coworkers, but he simply met her gaze with a smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, but then raised her eyebrows and supplied a small grin of her own... she supposed this couldn't be any worse than when she brought him to completion on the subway this morning. The sticky baby batter had crusted on the inside of his boxers before they had even gotten to the office, luckily he had a change of clothes in her office armoire.
Peter and Jeremy were still talking, but arousal was already dulling Mindy's senses, blocking out all the conversation around her, a cacophony of erotic thoughts shouting in her ears. Some kind of cell memory activated in the tissues of her vaginal cavity, tingling at the mere thought of Danny penetrating her with his surgeon's hands, the meticulously manicured fingers deftly tweaking her clitoris like the knob on a radio in a 1986 Plymouth Reliant. She couldn't get the images out of her head, and she was already slippery wet in anticipation, the sloppy waterfall between her legs seeping through her pathetic excuse for panties.
Danny started to weigh in on whatever the boys were talking about while he moved his hand higher, stopping just short of her underwear and teasing her by moving his digits back and forth along her inner thighs. The heat radiating from her mons pubis was like a forest fire, one that would have destroyed all of the lush foliage in the surrounding area, sending cute furry animals scurrying for cover.
Betsy caught Mindy's attention. "Dr. L, are you hot? You look kind of sweaty, I mean, I know you said you don't sweat, you glow, but that looks like sweat."
Peter's head popped up. He spoke over a mouth full of bread, masticating it like he was auditioning for the part of gluttony in a play about the seven deadly sins. "Yeah, that's not glowing, you're sweating like a pig."
Upon hearing this, Morgan drew his attention away from Tamra, a condescending look on his face. "Pigs don't sweat much, Peter, if at all. Why do you think they roll around in the mud? If you want to know more about the circulatory systems of porcine mammals, my grandma has a bunch of books on the subject."
Mindy drew in an unsteady breath, grateful for Morgan's distraction. She reached up to wipe away the salty mess on her forehead. Yeah, she was sweating like a whore in church, or rather, a perfectly acceptable libidinous woman at dinner with all of her colleagues, while her on the down low fuck buddy teases her mercilessly.
"I'm, uh... Yeah, I'm fine, Betsy. It's just, uh... It's a little hot in here. Right? Does anyone else think it's hot in here?"
The mirth in Danny's eyes was that of a sadistic little boy killing ants with a magnifying glass, he turned, focusing that point of heat on her. "I don't know, Min, I was thinking I might need to get my coat back, I'm actually a little chilly. Are you sure you're okay? You don't have a... fever or anything do you?" He chuckled, his fingers travelling even closer to the labial folds at her vulva, running his teeth along his bottom lip as the pads of his fingers brushed across the overgrown lawn that was her lady zone. Lush was an understatement, and that's just how he liked it.
His eyebrows shot up almost imperceptibly when he was greeted by the dripping goo soaking through her lingerie. He was momentarily transported back to childhood, sneaking a jar of marshmallow creme from the pantry, scooping it out with his fingers as he looked over his shoulder, the sticky substance getting all over his face. He silently bemoaned the fact that they were in public, and he wouldn't be able to bury his face in the cream pie between Mindy's thighs any time soon. The mere thought of her creamy goodness coating his face spurred him into further action.
He dipped beneath the unsalvageable material of her thong, swirling around the shaft of her clitoris, even going so far as to pinch the nub between his index finger and thumb. Her head fell back against the wall behind her before she could stop it, banging loudly and drawing Jeremy's attention from across the table.
"Mindy, I think you've had too much to drink. This is an office outing after all, control yourself."
She fought to keep her eyes open, attempting to pretend everything was normal, but they fluttered shut in a strange twitching manner, until she looked like a mental patient receiving excessive amounts of electroconvulsive therapy. The saliva pooled in her mouth, and she fought to keep it from escaping her lips and dribbling down her chin like she'd been lobotomized.
She swallowed, forcing her eyelids open again, unable to hide the strain in her voice when she spoke. "Yes, yeah, I'm coming... to the conclusion that... that's it. Too much to drink. Yes. God, yes, yes. Don't stop... telling me when I've had enough to drink." Her words were punctuated by little pants and grunts, much like a prehistoric cave man's (Cave woman's? Oh god, holy fuck, who cares?) mating call, as she shivered through wave after wave of mounting pleasure, digging her fingers into Danny's thigh. Mindy fought the urge to rock her pelvis against Danny's hand, knowing that would certainly give them away. She could feel the first tremulous earthquake gathering in her vagina, her engorged flesh swelling out against Danny's relentless fingers.
Contradicting her words about drinking, she snatched up her glass of wine, gulping down a huge drink to cover the dog-like yelp jumping from her vocal chords as the small earthquake finally shook her.
She felt her secretions oozing out of her, not quite squirting like she usually did, but it was only a precursor of what was to come. She could smell the distinct odor of her juices wafting up to her nose, jasmine and lavender. Danny always commented that she smelled like a flower shop, even though she tasted like the sample tray at his favorite bakery. Depending on the day of the week it was either cinnamon, brown sugar, chocolate, coffee, strawberries, vanilla, caramel, or even sometimes bananas. Danny always let her know which one. Well, unless he was in a playful mood. It was during those times that he'd take a nice long drink of her lady nectar before kissing her deeply. Then he'd make her guess the flavor. She wondered what tonight would taste like.
Danny fingered the pudendal cleft before slipping two fingers inside of her after their waiter returned with more breadsticks, and she masked her groan by double fisting the bread and stuffing it in her mouth. She knew that her sex noises and great food noises were basically the same, so it would be an acceptable cover. "Gooooood, that's so fucking good. More... I need more... fuck... uh, bread." she leaned forward, moaning into the table as she reached for the bread basket, marveling at the response of all eight thousand clitoral sensory nerve endings.
Peter looked at her in disgust. "God, Mindy, go easy on those breadsticks, maybe other people want some."
"Mmhmm, yeah." Mindy was rolling her hips into Danny's hand, grinding her clitoris against his palm, feeling his finger thump into the spongy tissue on the anterior wall of her vagina, gearing up for the second orgasm she knew was quickly approaching. He started pumping his fingers in and out faster, adding a third, stretching the tissue of her perineum with his piston-like motions. She felt so full, and it wasn't bread she was filling up on.
When she came again, her entire body shook, her kegels clenching around his fingers like the claws of a ten pound lobster, making Danny grateful that vagina dentata wasn't a real thing. She arched forward as her abdominal muscles contracted, her uterus and ovaries pulsating in pleasure as her pelvic floor contracted over and over again. This time she did squirt, gushing out over Danny's fingers in an ejaculative geyser more impressive than Old Faithful, soaking through her skirt, undoubtedly staining the seat cushion beneath her.
Danny withdrew his digits, surreptitiously lifting them to his nose when no one was looking, inhaling the hormonal perfume quickly before popping them in his mouth, lapping up the gelatinous liquid before turning back to his dinner partner. "I think you need some air, Min. Come on, let me... take you outside." Danny could barely keep the laughter out of his gravelly, gruffly aroused voice.
Still too breathless to speak, she nodded, allowing herself to be pulled up out of her chair by Danny's muscular arms. Before they'd taken two steps, Betsy let out a small exclamation. "Oh, Dr. L, your chair's all wet!"
Mindy's eyes popped open, her mouth hanging ajar, before she could answer, Danny chimed in. "Drunky brewster over here spilled her wine."
"Oh, no! And it's on your skirt, too. I hope it doesn't stain!"
Mindy found her voice again. "Uh, no, Bets, it'll be fine. My dry cleaner has had lots of practice getting this... particular fluid out of my clothing."
Betsy still looked dubious, dropping her hand to the seat she fingered the cushion's dampness, raising her hand to her nose, like the lead detective in a B noir film. "Are you sure it's wine, Dr. L? It smells like a florist's shop."
Beverly leered at them from her side of the table, shooting the retreating couple a knowing look. "Yeah, Betsy, it's wine," Beverly said as she grabbed Betsy's hand before her fingers could reach her mouth. "Although I'd wash my hands if I were you. I think this is wine from a box. The berries that they get the juice to make that wine are grown locally, and you don't want that particular residue on you all night. It might attract a group of feral cats in heat."
Mindy glared at Beverly's winking face before she gripped Danny's bicep and let him escort her out of the restaurant. Once outside, he quickly ushered her into the adjoining alley, where he almost immediately pushed her up against the rough brick wall, crushing his mouth to hers, roughly invading her oral cavity with his tongue. He moved one of his hands to her ass, lifting her thigh to his hip as he ground his bulbous erection against her vulva, and they both moaned, sounding like two rutting boars mating violently.
Mindy wasted no time reaching between them to palm Danny through his slacks, before deftly unbuttoning them and slipping her hand inside his boxers to grasp his penile shaft. Stroking him, she whispered, "God, Danny, you're already as hard as granite. I need you inside me STAT."
He simply grunted in response before taking hold of her wrist to remove her hand. Not willing to wait any longer to be inside of her, he ripped off her panties (she didn't bother complaining, they were goners anyway, since dating Danny she'd started buying them in bulk at Costco), the slippery lace disintegrating beneath his rough attention, before thrusting deeply into her slick vagina.
He pumped away, his speed increasing like a jackrabbit on a meth bender, as he got closer and closer to exploding. Mindy could feel the cold slimy brick against her bare ass where Danny had pushed her skirt up, and it served to make the encounter hotter, reminding her of the clammy moist feeling between her legs whenever she got too near Danny during the day.
Her third climax of the night was unexpected. It washed over her in a tsunami of throbbing pleasure, ripping a primal growl from her throat as she bit down on Danny's shoulder, drawing blood. She lapped up the salty hemoglobin, darkly pleased that she was finally getting to act out her favorite vampiric fantasy. She'd asked Danny to let her do it so many times, and he'd always refused, citing incidents of blood borne pathogens as an excuse, but she knew he was just a big ol' scaredy cat (It probably didn't help that she'd called out Robert Pattinson's name in the throes of an orgasm once. Just once! It had been a tense few moments until she'd Googled the actor's name, just to show Danny that he was in fact a celebrity, and not a real person).
He grunted, moaning into her neck, trying to pant out the words needed to chastise her, as she applied a gentle suction to the perforation in his epidermis. "Min, fuck, don't... this isn't... Skylight."
Despite his protests, the hint of pain was the last straw for Danny, and with one more deep thrust he reached his own orgasm, emptying in a violent ejaculation, his gluteal muscles clenching painfully. He pinned Mindy to the wall with a final thrust, his spermatozoa-filled seminal fluid shot into her in a pulsating stream, oozing out of her vaginal opening around his now quickly deflating erection.
Releasing his hold on her thigh to cradle her face in both hands, Danny kissed her again, softer this time. They kissed leisurely, their tongues caressing one another like two eels trapped in a plumbing pipe. After a few minutes of tonsil hockey, Danny pulled away from her, zipping his pants back up in a flourish, and Mindy slowly slid down the wall, her skirt now totally bunched at her waist, she struggled to straighten it.
Danny helped her, smoothing his hand over her ass one last time before pulling her back up and out of the alley. Mindy surveyed her clothing, thinking she looked like a street urchin who'd been rolling around in a greasy gutter, possibly wrestling with a racoon for leftovers in the dumpster, her nine hundred dollar skirt totally fucking ruined. "Danny, I know I've said this before, but I really mean it this time. You have got to stop doing this. My wardrobe can't really take another hit like this."
He chuckled as he hailed a cab. "Don't even pretend like you haven't initiated more than half of the incidents that result in ruined clothing. My dry cleaner will be able to retire at least ten years early just because of you."
They argued about who was more at fault all the way home, ignoring the loud sighs of the long suffering cab driver before Danny got out and threw a handful of cash at the poor man. As soon as they had the door to Danny's apartment open, all argument stopped, and in a matter of seconds he had her impaled against the wall again, this time all clothing discarded. It really was the best way to end an argument.
Mindy later noted in her diary that on Monday of that week she tasted like marshmallows.