Even Margaret Atwood, the consummate feminist, can appreciate the pleasure of what plays on the mouth. I'm as much a connoisseur of dining as I am of dirty talk. When it comes to the use of my tongue, I'm a sucker for the succulent, the sensual delight of whatever rolls off my lips.
In a recent review one of suitors made a quip about how we both love to eat, but then, who doesn't? I've always been an eater. Even among my waif and model-aspiring friends, I've always been the one to savor in the luscious art of tasting and consuming everything in my midst.
If you know me, you know I love food. But it's not just the food I love. It's the shared experience of temptation, tease, and release. It's the way we steal glances at each other across the table and graze each other's limbs underneath. Perhaps you walk your your fingers up my skirt to explore the inside of my thighs as the waitress takes my order. Perhaps I lick them clean of juices in a final act of satisfaction.
Throughout it all we're lubricated with the intoxicant of each other, the envious gaze of our surroundings, and an overflowing supply of the spirit of our choosing. I get naughty when I imbibe. But then, you came prepared for that, didn't you?
This is all to say, I would love to join you for a meal, amuse bouche, or cocktails. Let's make a date to tantalize each other. And, as always, dessert is on me.