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7
Belle
Our server sets a steaming plate of linguine pasta in a creamy red sauce topped with shrimp and andouille sausage in front of me. Neal’s Surf and Turf with mashed potatoes and fried spinach looks so much better than my food. He shoots me a knowing look as I lick my lips and twirl my fork between my fingers with eyes only for his plate.
Our server, a bony little thing in an all black outfit and a starched apron around her waist, makes sure everything looks good and that we don’t need anything else before she practically skips away.
Neal sighs. “Go ahead,” he says with an eye roll.
I launch into his fried spinach and moan as the salty butteriness melts on my tongue, letting my eyes close to savor the flavor. As I open my eyes, I catch a look on Neal’s face that I recognize. The loving gaze, the small smile, the slight lift of his cheekbones, the softening of his sharp jaw. My face burns imagining how ridiculous I look with buttery spinach juice dripping down the side of my mouth as I race to steal another bite, and he’s looking at me like I’m the greatest thing in the world.
“What?” I ask, my voice muffled around a mouthful of his food.
He shrugs, forking mashed potatoes into his perfect mouth. His tongue slips out to lick a bit that caught on the corner of his lips. My eyes zero in on the small movement imagining that same tongue licking something else just as delicately.
“I have an idea for what we should do tonight,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows with the question I can’t ask, because I started digging into my own food, finally. His knife scrapes his plate as he cuts into a piece of his steak and forks it into a small piece of lobster. I should have ordered what he did. His jaw flexes as he chews his food, and something about that makes me want to kiss along the edges of his jawline.
He grabs his phone off the table, taps on his screen for a few seconds, and then hands it to me. I see the same app from before with the black background. Only this time instead of a timeline of posts, I see a message board. So many people responded to the post Neal made about us. I open one from BBC26473. I hate the obvious username, but the thick, long dick shown in the picture makes up for it. His negative test results are above a video preview of his body from the waist down fucking a woman who’s shown from the neck down with titties about the same size as mine, a sunken, shaking belly, pale white legs held back against her shoulders by her own hands, and a pink bald pussy cumming all over the dick from the first picture.
I click the video and loud moans scream through the phone. I almost knock my plate on the ground trying to silence it. Neal and I both look around the restaurant at the eyes that turn to us.
“Sorry,” I mouth to everyone, smiling nervously. “Your phone should’ve been on silent,” I hiss, face burning. Neal swallows his laughter.
“I didn’t think you’d click on the video. I was expecting you to just watch the preview.” He laughs again, shaking his head as I try to fan the shame from my face.
I take my time and open all of the messages from other people with similar video previews and pictures double checking to make sure the phone is really on silent before I click any more videos. When I hand Neal his phone back, I point to the three that I think would be good.
