Eye On CameraWare -- adult

"Table for two?" says the smarmy waiter.
"Yes, please" she says, then follows the greasy little man dutifully. Her dinner date is following closely behind her, and she is wondering if he is watching her walk. She can't help but smile at the prospect. She has lived for this dinner date all week, even though it is only a business meeting. She slows a bit as they approach the table, devising a way to avoid allowing the sweaty waiter to hold her chair with his dirty hands. Thankfully, her handsome co-worker senses this too, and quickly cuts in on
the waiter's action by reaching for the chair first.

"May I?" He asks sweetly.

"Of course! Thank you!" she says as she admires his strong, clean hands. She watches as his fingertips grace the back of the chair, following the curve of the smooth oak. She imagines what his fingers would feel like as they skim the small of her back, tracing the curves of her neck and shoulders. As she sits in the chair, her arms brush against his, and she can almost feel them encompassing her. He keeps his hands respectable, despite her yearnings to feel the palm of his hand against her bare skin.
She can feel his fingertips already penetrating her body, deep within her imagination. Looking up from her chair to thank him, she can see him looking down at her, smiling.

Discussions of business ensue, each holding their menu in front of them like paper fortresses, protecting their innermost fantasies. It is only when the foul waiter returns, his stench wafting by, like an abandoned sock in the summer sun, that they snap back to reality. "May I take your odor?" Did the waiter really just say that? Both she and he begin to giggle
uncontrollably. He almost drives her over the edge as he looks at the waiter's grubby hands and asks if the wait staff prepared the salad bar or if the chef did. Without missing a beat, the waiter secures two orders for the fresh salad bar and retrieves the paper chastity belt menus.

"Are you ready to get some salad?"

Through the shaped plastic of the sneeze guard, she watches him build his seductive salad. She gazes at him while he lays the lettuce for his salad, sprawling leafiness covering his plate like the silk sheets on her bed. He caresses two cherry tomatoes as he sets them on his plate. She notes that he prefers the smaller, sweeter tomatoes, and this make her nipples even rounder than the garbanzo beans he rolls onto the bed of lettuce. She stares at him as he sets two stalks of Swiss chard on his plate, then
spreads them apart to accept one finger sweeping up their lengths, gathering the droplets of water that have gathered there. Finally, he splashes tangy dressing on the middle of the salad, allowing the wetness to seep into the folds of the dish. Who knew making a salad could be so entertaining!

Back in their seats, she sits back and listens for a while as his face falls back into a serious mode. She lapses into a private study of his full mouth, engorging her imagination on every feature. His warm, pink tongue darts across his ivory white teeth as he speaks. The tip of his tongue resembles her clit in all its wetness and responsiveness. She loves having her clit nibbled on and lapped at; his tongue and teeth appear to be made for the job.

She drifts back into his eyes, sinking blissfully into fantasy as he speaks. "I really think the project could take off," she can hear him saying as she conceals her wet panties by putting the napkin in her lap. She watches his mouth as he talks, and imagines what his lips would feel like. She half closes her eyes for a moment, pretending to contemplate what he is saying. The conversation is all business, but the only thing she is envisioning is his lower lip rubbing over her skin as he talks dirty. He
pulls her body into his mouth and strokes her fiery imagination with his tongue. He searches deep within her mouth for the passion burning upon her lips. "I bet he can say the sweetest, sluttiest things to make me wet. Yeah, that's it baby, talk nasty
to me while you kiss and lick," she thinks to herself.

"Pardon me?" he says, obviously jolted.

She can feel her face flush with embarrassment. She really MUST watch these fantasies! She has a pretty good idea of what she has said and does her best to recover. "I said, I think we should make it so they can just point and click. Yeah,
that's it, point and click"
"I... see," he says, looking confused. Apparently her makeshift answer doesn't quite fit the conversation; his face wears a wry smile and his eyes are laughing at her. Well, dang, it's not her fault! He is so incredibly handsome; any girl would forgive her for slight indiscretions. She sighs as she realizes the dinner date is coming to a close. As she breathes deep, the sweet smell of seduction is replaced by the repugnant aroma of rejection. She opens her eyes to look upon his face, and she is relieved to
discover the stale stench is only the waiter delivering the check

The co-workers giggle as they say, almost in unison, "Same time next week?"

"Table for two?" says the smarmy waiter.
"Yes, please" his dinner date says. He watches her follow the greasy little man. He smiles, wondering if she knows he is watching her walk. He has lived for this dinner date all week, even though it is only a business meeting. He almost stumbles over her as she slows suddenly. He nearly falls into the sweaty waiter but catches himself by grabbing the back of the chair.

"May I?" he asks sweetly.

"Of course! Thank you!" she says, as he admires her lean body. He fantasizes as his fingertips grace the back of the chair, following the curve of the smooth oak. He imagines what the small of her back would feel like under his fingertips, tracing the curves of her neck and shoulders. As she sits in the chair, he fights the urge to hold her in his arms, encompassing her body. He keeps his hands respectable, despite his yearnings to feel her bare skin against the palm of his hand. He can feel his fingertips already penetrating her body, deep within his imagination. Looking down her blouse, he can see her peering up at him, smiling.

Discussions of business ensue, each holding their menu in front of them like paper fortresses, protecting their innermost fantasies. It is only when the foul waiter returns, his stench wafting by, like an abandoned sock in the summer sun, that they snap back to reality. "May I take your odor?" Did the waiter really just say that? Both she and he begin to giggle uncontrollably. He almost drives her over the edge as he looks at the waiter's grubby hands and asks if the wait staff prepared the salad bar or
if the chef did. Without missing a beat, the waiter secures two orders for the fresh salad bar and retrieves the paper chastity belt menus.

"Are you ready to get some salad?"

Through the glossy reflections of the plastic sneeze guard, he watches her build her sultry salad. He watches her head tilt as she makes her salad bed, spreading the leafy lettuce like silk sheets. He caresses 2 cherry tomatoes as he sets them on his plate. He wonders if her breasts are small and firm, much like the sweet little tomatoes he has chosen. He has spent so much time fantasizing what it would be like to suck on her garbanzo bean shaped nipples. He watches her grasp a large carrot assertively; he gets hard and leans against the salad bar to hide his excitement. She is so much like the peach she put on her plate: soft on the outside, sweet and juicy on the inside. He becomes light headed when she drips and squirts dressing on her salad, making it sticky and tangy. Who knew making a salad could be so entertaining!

Back in their seats, he tries impress her with savvy chat about business. He would have preferred to fill the air with sultry talk, telling her all his erotic desires. He wants only to spend an entire evening, licking every inch of her warm skin. The tip of his tongue hungers for her clit, in all its wetness and responsiveness. He wonders if she loved having her clit nibbled on and lapped at; his tongue and teeth were certainly made for the job.

He drifts back into her eyes, sinking blissfully into fantasy as he speaks. "I really think the project could take off," he can hear himself saying as he conceals his stiff cock beneath the napkin in his lap. He watches her mouth as he talks and imagines what her lips would feel like. He watches her half close her eyes and worries that he was boring her. The conversation is all business, but the only thing he is envisioning is his lower lip rubbing over her skin as she talks dirty. He pulls her body into his mouth, and she strokes his fiery imagination with her skin. He searches deep within her mouth for the passion burning upon her lips. "Yes, that's it baby, talk nasty to me while you kiss and lick," she suddenly blurts.

"Pardon me?" he says, obviously overjoyed.

He can feel his face flush with embarrassment. He really MUST watch these fantasies! He has a pretty good idea that he only imagined what he heard and does his best to recover. "I said, I think we should make it so they can just point and click. Yeah,
that's it, point and click."

"I... see," he says, feeling disappointed. Apparently he isn't doing well with this line of conversation; her face wears a wry smile and her eyes are laughing at him. Well, dang, it's not his fault! She is so incredibly beautiful; any man would crave this woman. He watches her sigh, seemingly disgusted by something. The sweet smell of her perfume is replaced by the repugnant aroma of rejection. He gazes into her eyes to look upon her face and is relieved to discover the stale stench is only the waiter delivering
the check.

The co-workers giggled as they say, almost in unison, "Same time next week?"