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Nomi opened her eyes as he placed a tall flute of something bubbly on the table in front of her, then set down a plate.
He dropped down into the chair across from her, his own glass cupped in his palm to warm the red wine.
“No.Well, yes.Tired of thinking and worrying.”
He watched her, and as she reached for her glass, he sat forward.“Cheers.”
“Yiamas.”She touched her glass to his.
He cocked his head.“Greek?”
“I’m impressed you knew that.My great grandmother was Greek, so there’s a few random words and phrases my family keeps handing down.That and our first names.”
“Nomiki.Now that you tell me it’s Greek, it seems obvious.”
“What about you?Tareq is…” Nomi shook her head.“I don’t want to guess based on probably racist stereotypes.”
“Moroccan.North African really.I was born here, but my parents still speak Darija at home.”
“Is that the Moroccan language?”
“I don’t know if it’s technically its own language, or if it’s just a dialect of Arabic.”
“Do you understand standard Arabic?”
Tareq sat forward and nudged the plate towards her.“Starters.”
Before she could comment on that, he launched into a story about trying to translate Arabic that ended with a rather hilarious mistranslation thanks to pronunciation issues.
Nomi was grinning by the time he finished, and her glass was nearly empty.They’d both picked at the appetizers plate he’d brought, and the salty olives were a delicious counterpoint to the sweet, dry sparkling wine.
“Shall we get some food?”
Tareq rose and came around to pull out her chair.He stopped her after she stood, then took a moment to adjust her robe, making sure the edges were tucked back, her tits completely exposed.The front had fallen closed, the two layers of fabric overlapping to give her some frontal coverage.
His fingers barely brushed the edges of her breasts and Nomi shivered in reaction.
“Cold?”
She looked up into his eyes.“No, Sir.”
“Worried about showing off these lovely breasts?”
“Not really.Though I do feel rather exposed.”
He leaned in, his next word puffing against her ear.“Good.”
Tareq offered her his arm, guiding her through the maze of tables and people to the buffet.This time when Nomi felt eyes on her she was very certain it was the outfit, based on the smiles from mostly other women.
Tareq passed her a plate, and Nomi realized that she was hungry.There was a momentary flinch of discomfort at the idea of eating in front of him—she knew there would be people who would judge what she ate since everyone liked to judge the diets of larger individuals—but she pushed it aside and took what she wanted.
Tareq filled his own plate, then detoured to get them each a fresh glass.She grabbed silverware rolls, and led the way while he skillfully carried two glasses in one hand and his plate in the other.
They settled in and ate in silence.While not uncomfortable, it wasn’t an easy silence either.The tension between them was heavy with promise and anticipation.
The other diners provided plenty of entertainment, and once they were mostly done, Nomi and Tareq leaned in close so no one could overhear and spent some time trying to guess what letters people had been assigned, based on what they were doing.
Watching other subs being used—thoroughly and mercilessly—had Nomi’s already aroused body throbbing.She winced in sympathy a few times as a bare bottom was cropped or slapped.
