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'Lobster for Dessert.'



Eight months had passed since Lyla had resigned from The Palace. Petra had seen it coming and despite her concerns about revenue lost from Lyla's departure, the two had remained friends. So when Petra called to say ‘Seth’ wanted to get a hold of her, not for Dom work of course, but something of a personal nature, Lyla agreed to meet him. For the briefest moment she dared to lose herself in the 

fantasy that he wanted to be with her. But he was probably still married, and Lyla knew the old adage to be true….'If they'll do it with you, they'll do it to you.’ She had no desire to experience being the committed one waiting and wondering with suspicion about absence.


It was an exclusive restaurant called ‘The Weeping Willows’. Tucked far back from the road with gracious old willow trees draping across it’s facade ensuring a sublime discretion. The valet parking attendants were accustomed to parking their patrons distinctive cars out of sight. 


As she readied herself that Autumn afternoon, having dismissed the notion of a fling with him, she pondered on the nature of the rendezvous. She didn’t consider Seth to be the type to have an ‘open’ affair with the likes of her. She wasn't high enough calibre in social status for his needs. Neither did she once consider that he would be interested in her as ‘Lyla’, instead of 'Genevieve.' 


This didn’t let her assumption prevent her from dressing provocatively, with just the right amount of sex appeal and modesty to not appear ‘cheap’. A tailored navy jacket shaped in at the waist like a fashionable rendition of a riding jacket, no bra or shirt underneath, it’s plunging neckline and tight fit covered just enough. Her skirt length implied the proper respectability, long and tailored but with a slit that reached from her ankle to above her knee on one side so her stride would be a sensual expression of what she coveted with a proprietary aura.


“Do you miss it?” he asked. “You know, the business... and all…?” he spoke softly, slowly, his aura respectful and his composure

“You mean.. ‘the game’?….No.” She replied without looking up and with a conviction that surprised even her. Regardless there being something of a business nature, a client Seth wanted to discuss with her, he couldn’t help himself, Seth most certainly was ‘interested’ in Lyla…. Indeed he was.


Their dinner was heavily enshrouded with sexual innuendo despite the seriousness of his proposition. The atmosphere surrounding them was so thick with erotic energy their mutual attraction was obvious to everyone, even with the absence of any overt displays of affection. Lyla had not been expecting to feel such unprincipled lust. It was a stirring that somehow made her feel desire without the need to be dominating. It was like Seth having known her as ‘Genevieve’ meant she didn't need to longer needed to pretend. 


Could this foreign feeling actually be ‘trust’ or a sense of freedom to express herself sexually as ‘Lyla’? She picked at her appetizer, preferring to devour every nuance of his demeanor, every breath he took and what he wasn’t saying, what he was trying to hold back. 


By the time the waiter placed the entree in front of her she had made up her mind. When Seth reached his hand beneath the long white tablecloth, after the briefest tingle of pleasant surprise, she quivered under the warmth of his fingers resting on her thigh with a familiarity. The sensation caused thoughts of a most deliciously adulterous nature to grip her. 


She glanced down at her plate. The small, delicate, yet plumb lobster tail had been gently pried from it’s shell and was artfully displayed on the expensive bone china. As she attempted to enjoy her sensible, accompanying salad, the lobster tail was tantalizing her with the most provocative suggestions that had become unfettered in her mind. 


Lyla and Seth talked around, and around, the desire that was smoldering, rising and ebbing, in an all too familiar entanglement of personalities vying for control that resembled their ‘scenes’. Intentionally trying to avoid the salacious energy just intensified it’s seduction all the more. Lyla watched Seth sip his champagne. She watched him politely dab the corners of his generous lips with his serviette. She watched him......... until he noticed her watching him. 


“So, surely you can’t not want your lobster?” he enquired.

Lyla sighed and leaned forward. It was precisely the cue shed been anticipating, hoping for actually. Her hands folded beneath her chin. She brought her eyes up to meet his, with the mesmerizing look he had come to know and be captivated by. Unconsciously her  tone slipped lower into that alluring vibration she employed as ‘Genevieve’, as she softly spoke...


“ I thought you would prefer to have it..........and.........perhaps somewhere else.” She looked at him with only the hint of a coy smile.

“Lyla, this is hardly the establishment you ask for a ‘doggie bag’!” he quipped.

She stole a furtive glance around her, retrieved her oversized linen serviette, discretely procured the soft fleshy tail beneath it’s folds and excused herself to the powder room. 


Seth’s draw dropped, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from her as she walked with that sultry long stride remembered from the catwalk. He noticed she did not take her purse with her.


By the time Lyla returned to the table, a tiny sliver of lobster juice had begun gently tracing down her inner thigh. Seth hurriedly settled the bill, bursting with an awkward anticipation, he eagerly escorted her to the door. When she sank low 

into the Porsche she couldn’t prevent a mischievous albeit nervous giggle from escaping. Seth turned and grinned at her. 


“My God Lyla! You are...... simply....... the most......... astonishing young woman I have ever met!” 

“Sooo cliche.” she replied

“What is?” he asked as he drove along the tree lined boulevard.

“A Porsche......Seth? Really?”

“And?” he inquired.

Lyla turned to look at him. “It’s the next best thing to foreplay.” she half smiled an insipid attempt at coquetry and turned away. All he could reply was.... “Will the Winslow suffice?” as he sped towards the iconic ancient hotel.


His business ‘proposition’ was the furthest thing from their minds... They both knew they would be ‘playing’ that evening while the Autumn wind tossed 

about the fallen leaves just as they would toss about old patterns of ‘play’ and Lyla would unashamedly and effortlessly slip into disguise as Genevieve, without needing a costume.


It could be said she was like an Equinox, equal time Lyla, and ‘Genevieve.’ The ‘game' had overstepped the boundary and become 'real life'.

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