He was two glasses of wine into a bottle of crisp, dry cabernet when he spotted her trying hard not to look at him. It was one of those glances that shift way immediately, only to come right back again. By then she realized she'd been caught looking. Instantly, he wondered if he’d actually caught her, or if she'd just reeled him in with her incredible eyes. It didn’t really matter. There was nothing left to do but pursue those eyes – and whatever was behind them.

His place at the bar was a regular one. He was regular too; routine always the same -- cabernet, very rare filet, baked potato, and his favorite Caesar salad. He never had to order. He just had to show up and control the pace of the meal. He was a man of routine. The eyes locked onto his were most definitely not part of this routine. There was a very good chance that a new pace was taking shape, and he was going to have very little to do with how fast things progressed. A hint of a smile joined her captivating gaze. He half motioned to her, offering a subtle salute with his wineglass before taking a long draught. His heart jumped in his chest, as she left her seat on the other side of the bar. Wine swirled across his tongue, rewarding him with a peppery finish while his mind anticipated what could be a spicy beginning.

Her eyes never left him, as she walked through the semi-crowded bar. She was tall, and the loose, flowing skirt she wore hid what had to be very nice legs. The snap of stiletto heels on the hardwood floor added punctuation to the long stride that only the longest of legs could produce.  Fuck-red fingernails adorned slender fingers that came to rest on the seatback next to him. Her voice could not be described as anything short of sultry when she asked, “Is this seat taken?”

He sat back and turned to look directly at her and smiled, saying, “No Ma’am! I’ve been saving it for you.”

“Why thank you,” she replied with an accent that told him that her sweet little peaches had to be from Georgia. She scooted up onto the high armchair and crossed her legs with unprecedented grace.

The bartender excused herself, distracting him back into the routine of the moment as she placed his meal in front of him. A reflex action of licking his lips arrived simultaneously with the aroma of grilled steak. He could sense her eyes studying him. He leaned forward slightly and closed his eyes, inhaling the steam that rose from his plate. Once more he licked his lips, and his mouth watered in anticipation of the first bite of perfectly prepared filet. He was a picture of intense concentration and a man who could not be hurried. Routine deviated slightly away from the meal as he noted a second crossing of nice legs. This time the top leg went high before settling down, no doubt with a pleasing little pinch. 

He adjusted his napkin in his lap and gathered knife and fork to cut a small piece off the filet. It was perfect, seared on the outside with a cool red center. He brought the morsel to his mouth and closed his eyes again, chewing slowly. With knife and fork laid on his plate, he reached for the wine. Another deep draught swirled in his mouth briefly before he swallowed.

“I love watching a man who enjoys his food,” she said finally, crossing her legs for the third time, again lifting the top leg very high before settling down over the other.

He looked at her and smiled. “A good steak dinner is a lot like enjoying all the attributes of a beautiful woman." He paused, observing her for a reaction. “There’s so much to enjoy. A patient man has the opportunity to involve all his senses. It’s such a shame to rush through an experience like that.
It’s like this filet; the flavor is excellent. The natural juices of rare meat taste incredible to me. And the wine…God. The flavors left on my lips and tongue are of things that create memories.”

“Oh my,” she said, blushing deeply, “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Never thought about what?”

“How fucking with a patient man could be like fucking with a steak dinner.”

He nearly recycled a mouthful of cabernet through his nose at her comment. After struggling to swallow the wine, and a painful air bubble, he burst out laughing. He turned to look her in the eyes and was staring into deep black pools of Fuck. Seldom had a woman taken him by surprise like she'd just done. A look of disbelief was plastered on his face. For punctuation, she made a big production of crossing her legs yet again and stiffened slightly in her seat, as the top leg hovered before falling into place. The tendons in her neck gave a subtle twitch, and her breathing stutter-stepped as she exhaled through her nose.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “I’m sitting here watching you make love to a piece of meat. It’s the most sensual thing I’ve seen in quite a while. To be honest, I’m not sure which one of you is getting fucked.”

A short laugh erupted from him again along with an accompanying look of dismay. Every time he started to say something to regain control, she took the wind out of his sails with another killer comment about the way that he was enjoying his meal. Of course her replies were every bit as loaded as his initial response to her. He was not prepared. His routine had been disrupted. And it was obvious that he was not controlling the pace of this meal…or this conversation.

“You know, I may be fucking this steak…or it maybe it IS fucking me, but one thing’s for sure,” he stated with conviction, adding a pregnant pause, waiting for her to step into his opening.

“And that is…”

“You girls have all the fun.”

“What ever do you mean?” she asked coyly.

“You’re the only one of the three of us that’s had an orgasm in the last five minutes,” he said with a wink and a smile. “God, how I wish I could just cross my legs and pinch one off. I wouldn’t be able to walk half the time."

“Touché!” It was her turn to laugh. “You’re very observant.”

“It’s hard for a beautiful woman to hide the exquisite attributes of a righteous orgasm – not that that’s a bad thing. It does, however, highlight one thing.”

“Yes?”

“It demonstrates which of us is more patient,” he added with a hint of a challenge.

“Mmm, I see. Finish that steak, and I’ll give you something much more tender to chew on, and we’ll see who's more patient,” she replied with a challenge of her own. The gauntlet was lying on the floor, having clearly been thrown by the lady.

“Oh my!” Was the only response he could muster. Quickly he added, “I must warn you though, I only like it rare.”

“All you’ll have to do is spank it, and it'll be ready to eat,” she said, standing up and heading toward the door. Her peaches had just become cobbler in his eyes, and they were getting away.

He threw a fifty on the counter and gulped the last swallow of wine left in his glass and strode quickly after her. The pace quickened even more. His routine was in tatters. As he closed on her, he noticed her hose had a seam running up the back of her leg. ‘Sweet Jesus,’ he thought, ‘garter, and even money says no panties.’ He licked his lips. Peach cobbler indeed.

“A patient man would not have left his steak dinner unfinished,” she taunted him, smiling and looking back over her shoulder.

“He would if dessert was about to walk away! You see a patient man never allows a decadent dessert to escape his lips.”

“Hmm, you have some very nice attributes yourself.”

“Just you wait…”