Kelly Gaffney watched with fascination as her lunch companion slowly but surely whittled away at the heaping plate of baby back ribs. Delicate fingers, long and graceful, almost completely coated in gooey, burnt-crimson sauce, maneuvered each slender rib from side to side. Perfect, straight white teeth sank into the tender flesh, ripping away chunks of succulent meat with surprising force.
Gaffney couldn't help but stare as the tip of a tongue slid out from between full lips to lick at bits of sauce captured by the mini-dimples on either side of that luscious mouth. As if the visual weren't enough, small sounds, murmurs of intense satisfaction, of hedonistic pleasure, issued forth from deep in her companion's throat.
Kelly found herself glancing sideways with embarrassed paranoia, half suspecting the other diners in the packed restaurant to be ogling her colleague as well. However, clearly, this kind of reaction was expected, as not a soul even glanced their way.
Finally sated, the last rib bone dropped onto the plate, and Gaffney gazed, mesmerized as one by one those slender, sauce covered fingers disappeared between those delicately formed lips. She shifted uncomfortably against the hard plastic seat, vitally aware of the growing warmth between her legs.
Not at all what she had expected from lunch with a colleague she barely knew. Usually, lunch was just lunch. And sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Apparently not today, however.
Vivid blue eyes, sparkling mischievously met her own.
"What's the matter? I thought you said that you liked ribs?" A decidedly amused voice asked.
"Nothing," Kelly muttered, vainly attempting to hide the blush stealing up her cheekbones, "I do like ribs. I guess I was just surprised. I was expecting a more hand in the lap, use all the right forks, sort of woman."
"Oh. Well, usually I am. In fact, there are only two things that I'll get my hands sticky for. Ribs are one of the two," Serena stated matter-of-factly, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes as she watched the blood suffuse Gaffney's face and her breathing quicken at the obvious implications of the words. "Have dinner with me on Saturday and I might be convinced to tell you what the other one is."