We were seated at my favorite table at Chloe’s, half way through the bottle of wine, when I noticed a man a few tables over stealing glances at little lady.

Little lady had been chatty all night really, about Cathy the co-worker and some sort of drama and lots of questions about the upcoming trip. The wine was giving me sort of a warm, relaxed feeling, and the little lady was looking awfully good tonight, wearing a very sexy but modestly tasteful black dress and short heels. Her hair was done up so you could see the curve of her shoulder and the back of her neck. I swear I was trying to pay attention to the story of Cathy the co-worker but my eyes just kept being drawn to that curve between her shoulder and her head; so pale and soft. It took a lot of self control not to leave teethmarks sometimes, but her skin was flawless at this moment.

I interrupted her. “Did you see that?” I couldn’t keep a smirk off my face but I maintained a serious tone of voice. Little lady stopped mid-sentence, her eyes darting up to mine, her face flashing that “deer in the headlights” look she got whenever I used this tone of voice. I suspect she knew what was coming next.

“Look over there, two tables to the right. Go ahead, turn and look. That man over there. He was checking you out. You little minx! You just can’t help yourself can you?” Now the smirk was more a smile. Little lady looked down, batting her eyelashes and having a hard time deciding whether to smile or pout.

“Oh, you are so going to get it when we get home.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” she wailed softly, “I didn’t even see him!” Now she was pouting.

“Excuses, excuses. You’ve been awfully bad lately.” I was grinning ear to ear now. “Just hope I wait until we get home. Unless maybe I should just take you out to the car now?”

That was it, like a trigger. Her cheeks turned red – and hot – which just got her more flustered, as her skin was so pale that even the slightest blush was noticeable to everyone, and she knew it. She stuck her bottom lip out and made a little moan. She furrowed her brow, looked up at me and in a stage whisper, exclaimed “you wouldn’t dare!”


I sort of made a half-laugh, half-snort, and said, “Was that a please? I’ll go tell the waiter to hold the table. When I’m finished we’ll come back and finish the wine.” Her playfully panicked look started to get a bit more earnest. She widened her eyes, put her hand over her mouth and gave a little gasp. I put a very serious look on my face and said, “oh, yes. I’m going to get the waiter.”

I waved down our server. “Excuse me, sir? I have to make an emergency call. Please hold the table for a few minutes until we get back. The wine is wonderful and we want to finish. Thank you.”

The little lady was bright red now, her eyes dancing around the room to see if anyone would notice – if they would know. I stood up, walked around the table and pulled her seat out. “Leave your purse, the waiter will watch it. We will be back soon enough.” She was beet red now, the flush reaching from her forehead to her neck. She stood up, I grabbed her hand and led her quickly towards the exit.

7 thoughts on “Blush

    1. Do we really want women to be “revolutionary?” Isn’t that more of a commie thing, like Emma Goldstein? Do we want them to be screaming through bullhorns about “white rights” or something? I figure, get them knocked up, and they can stay busy taking care of their own “race” of little whites.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s