It had been a warm day. We arrived at the sidewalk cafe about 9 pm. The sun was just down and there was a purple tinge to the sky above the buildings; the air was still quite warm and humid.
The maître d’ handed me a menu as he seated us. He was followed closely by our waiter who set a basket of bread on the table and poured us each a glass of sparkling water and a glass of the house red wine.
I handed him the still-closed menu. He smiled and said, “The salmon *carpaccio* and *caprese* again, sir?” I nodded and returned his smile.
When he walked off, I returned my gaze to my companion. She looks stunning in her brightly colored floral shift. In this light the yellow and orange in the dress make her eyes a deep emerald color. Her cheek bones are high and her lips are full. But her eyes are everything. Even as she turns them down from time to time, demurely, they command attention.
She says she is 24 years old. Her build is slight; it makes her appear much younger. But in these three dates, walking and talking with her I have learned she has a much older soul. She is full of life and vitality, but she has wisdom from the long introspection of an artist.
She leaned into the table, her unparted hair hanging down over her right eye. She removed a thin cigarette from her purse. Before she could get it to her scarlet lips, I had my lighter at the ready for her. She stared into my soul as she inhaled to take the flame into the sweet tobacco.
As I put the lighter back in my pocket, she pursed her lips off to one side and lightly blew away the smoke. She reached her hand out and met mine as it rested on the table. She smiled and said, “So, there’s this little theatre near here; I know the manager. Would you like to go after we eat?”
“What’s playing?” I asked.
“It is kind of an art house. You never really know what the show will be until you get there. It is very small. I have heard the show is as different as the audience each day.”
She took another draw from her cigarette as the food arrived. She dropped the butt to the pavement and crushed out the smoldering end with her beige pump and exhaled the puff. Our waiter delivered our order and topped off our wine. He backed away showing his palms and wishing *bon appetite*.
I took some of the *carpaccio* and *caprese* and placed it on her plate. “Sounds interesting,” I said as I continued serving our light dinner, “why not?” The aroma of the balsamic vinegar dripping from the white cheese was making my mouth water even though I didn’t realize I was hungry.
She aligned a piece of cheese and tomato with her fork and knife then cut a corner and bathed it in the balsamic vinegar. I watched her lips part as she took the bite into her mouth. She closed her red lips over the tip of her fork and gave me a playful smile as she slowly drew the tines out of her mouth.
I sliced off a bit of the salmon and placed it in a crust of baguette and dipped it in the balsamic before tasting it. She kept chewing as her eyes followed my food from my plate to my mouth. She opened her mouth slightly as I opened mine then murmured, “mmm.”
As she took a bite of the salmon, I looked at my watch and said, “It’s 9:30 now. What time does the show begin?”
She wiped her lips with her napkin, smiled wryly and said, “It’s a continuous show with lots of entries and exits. We don’t have to rush our meal.” Then she took a sip of wine and touched my hand.
Her fingers were cool, but I felt a surge of energy pass through them and shoot up my arm raising the hairs as it went. I playfully slipped my next bite off my fork as she continued watching the movement of my lips.
She lightly dug her fingernails into my wrist as I chewed and I felt another jolt of energy, this time in my groin. As though nothing was out of the ordinary, she took another sip of wine and smiled while I nervously shifted in my seat.
“Please finish your dinner, you will need your energy. They won’t let us take food into the theatre, anyway. Please excuse me, I need to visit the ladies’ room,” she said.
I stood and pulled her chair out. “So gallant,” she whispered in my ear as she brushed my cheek with her lips, “don’t go away, I’ll be right back.”
I took my seat and grabbed a couple of pieces of baguette from the covered basket. I broke them open and arranged a piece of tomato and mozzarella on one side of the bread. Then I took the remaining salmon to my plate and folded the thin slices on the other side of the bread. With that the rest of the meal had been reduced to two small sandwiches.
I squeezed the first to break up the hard crust then drew it through the balsamic and took a bite. After quickly finishing the first, I was repeating the process with the second. I must have missed her exit from the restroom. Because as I was about to bite the remaining sandwich, fragrant hands covered my eyes.
She leaned down and kissed my cheek again and said, “You certainly made short work of the food; are you ready to go?”
“Just about,” I said as I swallowed the last of my wine and reached for my billfold. I took out 3 bank notes and placed them in the silver tray the waiter had left for this purpose. I led her back to her chair and pulled it to seat her and said, “Now may I have a few moments for a trip to the gents’?”
She nodded then pushed the plate with the balsamic vinegar to the center of the table, revealing the plain white placemat. She slid her spoon under the edge of the plate, tipping it, to create a pool of brown vinegar. Then she took her fork and dipped one of the tines. Once she had a nice drop, she started sketching on her fresh *canvas*.
After a few minutes, the waiter came to collect his payment. He stopped briefly and turned his head to see her signing the corner “Belle.” Sensing his hesitation by her, she looked up and smiled. When her eyes met his, he blushed at being caught and quickly returned his attention to his task. “He he he,” she chuckled to herself as she took a quick sip of water.
She set the glass to the side of her sketch just as I was arriving. At a glance, I could see she had drawn a building with what appeared to be a lighted sign *Now showing* over a wide entrance. I could make out a window on one side under the word TICKETS and a couple of people in a line to purchase.
I considered it for a moment before I touched her shoulder. “Is that where we are going?” I asked. She nodded. I pulled her chair and offered her my arm. We left the sidewalk cafe between the potted hedges that separate it from the public sidewalk. She tugged my elbow left and we were on our way to the theatre.
As we walked, she kept her right hand between my bicep and chest. She held my left hand in hers, at times our fingers interlaced, at others she tickled and playfully squeezed as her mood dictated. We crossed the square in front of the town hall then turned down a side street that got most of its illumination from the blinking marquees of the clubs that lined it.
After dark, cars were prohibited on the street. We easily moved among the chattering pedestrian traffic. To the left was a techno club that pulsed electronica out the door and through the bodies of everyone on the street. There were dozens of young people dressed to dance waiting at the ropes to be let in as others left to make room. Across the narrow street people milled about in front of the large posters describing the acts in the smaller, quieter cabaret.
Once we got beyond the clubs, we passed a few small lunch shops, a hookah bar and smaller shops featuring *novelties* (sex toys, specifically) and smoking supplies. The narrow alleys between the buildings bled the odors of stale perfumes and perspiration. Finally, we reached the theatre at end of the cul de sac. It was just as she had drawn on the place mat at the cafe.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/afbz4i/exploring_the_mysteries_of_belle_a_7part_serial
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