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"Monsieur, please, tell me," Patric insisted. "How may I be of help?"
"Very well, and thank you. That fellow at the bar, the blonde man who looks like a surfer," Duncan said discreetly, knowing the description would give Patric the image of a man in thongs, loud trunks and a disheveled appearance. "He's been staring at Brittany since we arrived. It's most disconcerting."
"Please do not concern yourself further, Mr. Rhys-Davies. This will be handled," Patric promised, and with a pronounced strut to his step, he marched across to the maitre d'.
"Duncan, that was masterful," Brittany said softly.
"Thank you. I have something in mind, and it certainly couldn't happen with that joker staring at you."
"Can you give me a hint?"
"I'll do more than give you a hint. You're going to have an orgasm."
Brittany stared at him in disbelief, but didn't speak.
"You're learning. That's the first time you haven't shot back a question or a comment. Are you wearing the thigh-highs stockings I requested?"
"Of course," she replied, then let out a small gasp. "Duncan, look!"
Turning his head, Duncan saw two waiters and the maitre d' escorting the blonde man from the restaurant.
"Good. Now we can begin. Reach between your legs, and as you rub yourself tell me one of your fantasies. I want one of your own, not something from my book."
"I can't believe I'm going to do this," she mumbled, moving her hand under the table. "I've wondered about being flogged."
"Dressed how?" he asked, lowering his voice and leaning closer.
"A black garter belt and—wait—Patric is headed over here," she said hastily, spying the wine steward from the corner of her eye.
"Don't stop what you're doing unless I say blackberry, then you can take a short break."
"Your unwanted admirer has left," Patric announced, arriving at the table with their wine.
"We're very grateful," Duncan replied.
"Yes, very," Brittany managed, her fingers continuing to agitate her clit.
"I am only sorry for any inconvenience," Patric continued, pouring a splash of wine in Duncan's glass.
Duncan swirled the deep red liquid, inhaled, then took a sip.
"Such rich blackberry. Marvelous."
Discreetly sighing, Brittany brought her hand back to the table.
"Thank you, Sir, and for mademoiselle," he continued, pouring the Meritage into Brittany's glass.
"Smooth as velvet. Wonderful. Thank you."
With a sharp, quick bow, Patric placed the bottle in the center of the table.
"Bon appétit, and if I can be of further service, please don't hesitate to call on me."
"How did you know about the white burgundy?" Duncan asked.
"My father is a wine lover. He has quite a collection."
"And here you were pretending to be a simple Southern
