Silverware clanked against fine china as the patrons of the Sleeky Ease dined on their fancy french meals. Women wearing too much perfume smiled lazy, fake smiles at their male companions, who in return feigned interest in the lady with the hope of getting into her panties for dessert.
Delanore sat alone in a corner booth, waiting. She wasn’t proud of herself for hiding in the back of the restaurant, stalking her own boyfriend. Wes felt distant to her. Phone calls went unanswered while in her presence, text messages deleted from his phone moments after reading them. She became a regular sluth.
She flicked the vegetables of her ratatouille around the plate while keeping an eye on the front door. Being the newly professional stalker that she was, she had arrived earlier than him to be sure to get a good seat. The door opened, a cool breeze from the street blew through the bistro. Wes stood at the hostess desk. His hair combed to the right, as usual. His broad shoulders displayed beautifully through his well tailored sports coat. She noticed the warmth of his cognac brown eyes. Her shoulders drooped as she remembered the heat those eyes could cause her in mere moments. Those eyes that could change the tone of their conversation with a raise of his eyebrow, a narrowing of his lids, or a slow wink in her direction.
The door swung open again, a short blonde walked through. Wes looked behind him and smiled at the sight of her. They wrapped their arms around each other in greeting. Delanore gripped her knife as though it were the only thing keeping her from flying across the room. She watched with held breath as the host walked them to their table. A small round table set for an intimate dinner. Four tables to her right. Close enough for her to see them, but angled enough that she would not be seen. The host walked past her table and gave her a casual nod as he made his way to the kitchen.
Wes held the hand of the woman sitting across from him as she talked. Delanore looked at her own hands. That morning his hard cock had been in them. Her fingers stroked him while he stood over her kneeling figure. Her palms spread his warm juices over his head before she took him in his entirely into her mouth. She could still hear his low growl and feels his fingers buried in her hair as he soaked her mouth with his come.
Delanore pushed her plate away from her, unable to feign an appetite any longer. She watched as the water glasses were brought to their table. Their hands became untangled to allow the waiter access to the table. The woman ordered something, a glass of wine perhaps. Wes ordered his usual, a whiskey sour. He reached across the table and pulled a stowaway leaf from her long hair.
She ran her fingers through her shoulder length cropped copper red hair in disgust. He raved about her hair coloring. She kept the short hair in pig tails for him at his request when they went to bed. He loved to pull on them as he rode her from behind. She loved the feel of the strands being yanked at their core. The feeling of him slamming into her aching cunt while using her hair as reigns, drove her to the end of oblivion every time.
Wes sipped his water and grimaced. He gave the glass a quick look over and placed it on the edge of the table. His drink arrived, and he took a healthy swallow of it. Delanore smiled to herself. The blond sipped her wine, but Delanore ignored her.
The waiter stopped at their table to take down their order. Wes ordered for them both. Delanore took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. He loved to order for his woman. He found the act to be a sign of ownership. She watched him loosen the tie around his neck and gulped down a sip of her water. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple. She wanted to wipe it away for him. To kiss his forehead and feel his head resting between her breasts.
One of his favorite games in bed was to spank her breasts until she cried for mercy. The rosey blush of a well slapped tit made his dick hard and her pussy wet. They made a great pair in bed. He dished out the torment, and she ate every bite.
The blonde coughed hard. Wes looked to her with concern while she finished her coughing fit. Delanore stood from her seat.
Wes slid the tie from his shirt and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. Delanore walked around the room, away from their table but kept them in her sight.
The couple seated next to Wes and his date gathered their belongings and left the bistro, their romantic evening just beginning. The blonde coughed again, a splatter of blood hit the stark white table cloth. Wes stared at her wide eyed. Delanore took slow strides toward them. Wes began coughing, too. The couple on the other side of them watched them with worry.
“Hello, Wes.” Delanore arrived at the table, facing down her cheating boyfriend and his slut of a date. He swung his eyes to meet hers, panic flashed in them.
“Del! What are you doing here?” He coughed and tried to stand from the table. She placed a hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to keep his seat.
“Just having dinner. You?” She forced a casual smile to her lips and glanced at his date. The blonde continued to cough, but tried to keep the noise low by stuffing a napkin in front of her face.
“Delanore, I’m sure-” He broke off to clear his throat. “I’m sure this looks-” He held his hand to his chest as he began to cough again.
“Like you’re a cheating bastard? Yeah. It kinda does.” She scrunched up her nose.
“No.” He took another swig of his drink. “I’m not. This is-” He coughed into his napkin, staring at the small spots of blood that covered it. “Sister.” He waved a hand frantically at the blonde who was too busy trying to breathe properly to notice Delanore’s presence.
“Is everything alright?” The waiter rushed to their table. The other patrons were staring. It was becoming a spectacle.
“Sister? You don’t have a sister.” Delanore put her hands on her hips. “You really shouldn’t have cheated on a chemist, my dear. Not your smartest move.” She leaned over and whispered into his ear. The waiter continued to try to assist the choking blond.
“Adopted.” He strangled out. “I was-” The fit of coughing took over him again, more blood spewed onto the napkin. Realization swept over her; a new panic flooded her mind.
“Oh.” She slumped in her stature. “Sister?” She looked at the blonde. Cognac brown eyes stared back at her with raw fear. “Oh.” Delanore stepped back from the table. The sirens of an ambulance echoed throughout the room. The door flung open. Patrons flew from their tables to make way. Delanore melded into the crowd, allowing the men in uniforms to do their jobs.
“Miss?” The host tapped her shoulder as she reached the door. She spun around, tears smearing her mascara down her face.
“Sister.” She mumbled. He raised an eyebrow and put his hand out, palm up. “Sister.” She said again placing a small envelope in his hand. He inclined his head to her and left her to her escape. “Why didn’t he tell me?” She wiped her eyes. “Sister.” She said again and left through the door. The sharp cool air slapping her in the face as she made her way down the street and into a new life.