Another Taste in the Taxi

The private cab Sir had called moved us slowly and smoothly through the city streets of London. With the privacy partition, it felt like we were very much alone, Sir and I.

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A Taste at the Table

Our table sat in a dimly lit corner of a side alcove off the main dining room in an aging Italian restaurant. We were fairly isolated from the rest of the diners, just the way Sir likes it. I pressed a glass of cool prosecco to my lips and drank in the smooth sparkling wine. As I swallowed, I felt the coolness in my throat followed by a heat rising to my cheeks. I could feel his eyes on me. I returned the glass to the table and slowly raised my eyes to meet his steel-gray stare. His gaze was amiable but intense. He was studying me. I felt my lips drying up from the drink, and ran my tongue over them to bring back some moisture. I smiled, he did not.