Dinner Party

Issac zoned out on the couch while Hannah bustled around in the kitchen. The apartment was boring. The white walls and white ceiling and white blinds blended together in an empty canvas devoid of life. No dust shaded the window sill, the knickknacks shined in the same places they had been since Hannah moved in. Vacuum left perfect spiked lines around the edge of the room where she cleaned earlier. He would turn on the radio to fill the space with something, but Hannah didn’t like loud music or rock music or the sound of his video games.

Turning he saw into the kitchen. She had two pans on the stove, a sink full of water so she could wash dishes as soon as she used them, and a stack of dinner plates and silverware. His heart skipped a beat. Three dishes waited next to the sink.

She expected company. The excited nerves built in his throat. He loved when they had company. Hannah refused to admit it to him, but she loved it too. Tom came over three times this week.

His foot vibrated with excess energy. His thigh already tingled with warmth. At the first dinner they hosted at their apartment, her hand rubbed along his thigh and made him jump. Afterward, when the guests left and they made love, he felt so energized he wanted to start the evening all over again.

He stared at the curve of her hip where the starched and pressed white button down lay perfectly over the top of her jeans. She hated anything out of place or unclean, most of the time.

Then guests came over.

With nothing but a table and cloth between them, she unzipped his pants while she chatted with her best friend about supermarket prices. When he blushed, she’d smile at him, but if he squirmed, she would stop. It was her game, and he liked it. It thrilled him more than any roller coaster or any drunk stunt he’d pulled with his friends. The passion after their guests left him waiting for the next dinner party.

He stood up and paced the empty floor of the apartment. His heart pounded against his chest. He’d fought back the day her parents joined them. She had worn a summer dress with yellow eyelets and a bow just under her breasts. When she’d flipped open the button on his jeans, he’d laid his hand on her leg, letting the warmth seep into her skin. When she did the same to him, the heat pulsed up his thigh into his groin, and he hoped it did the same to her. As the meal progressed, he slid his hand up her thigh. Her legs resisted so he had to wedge his hand higher. When he touched the soft cotton of her underwear, she shifted welcoming his hand.

When her parents left, she had let him lay her out on the couch, and she screamed for him for the first time. Her body tightened around his, and he resolved to make her do it again after the next dinner.

He paced into the kitchen and grabbed a chair back. His fingers whitened as he used his energy to grip himself in place. He suspected Hannah loved the threat of being caught in the act. He hadn’t told her that Tom knew exactly what they were doing. He hadn’t even blushed when Tom gave him a pat on the back. “Shit, dude! You are the man.”

Then there were two games. Tom goading him to do more and judging the reaction, and Hannah getting more bold with his body. Tom scored the reactions, one point to Hannah when he blushed, a point to him when she reacted. Tom and he argued about it when her score outpaced him by fifty. That was when Tom suggested he could pretend to be watching ESPN at the table and record the meal.

He cleared his throat. “Hannah?”

She turned to look at him. Her cheeks were red from the stove heat. “Yes?”

The pinkness in her cheeks made him grin. He wanted to keep her cheeks pink but with passion and embarrassment. Before he could tell her anything, she turned back to the stove. That was his Hannah. It wasn’t his turn yet, but he’d have her attention later. When it was the right time. When they were at the table.

“Never mind.” This dinner would be different.

He left the kitchen and pulled his box of toys from under the bed. They’d started dating his last year of college. She’d been so innocent that he’d hid his box. When they were alone together, she laid on her back and forced him to be on top, boring old missionary. If he suggested a new position or a toy, she would shake her head or tell him no. But when company came over, new rules applied.

If he was her toy, left on the couch when she didn’t need him, then she could be his toy and do what he wanted. He pocketed a small bullet shaped object and the remote for it. It flipped on with the button and vibrated in his hand, still strong after a year of neglect.

Did Hannah invite you to dinner? He texted Tom.

Yeah 😉

I got a surprise for her tonight. Be ready to record. I’m earning my points back.

Finally. Be there in 15.


  1. #1 by alibi6 on June 4, 2014 - 12:37 pm

    ah, I wanted to know how dinner went.
    good work.

  2. #2 by Sam Barnett on June 4, 2014 - 6:07 pm

    This one is my favorite.

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