I shrug. “I come here quite often when I don’t want to cook for myself. My old apartment is close by, and the food is exquisite. Gianni, well, when he found out I didn’t have any family in town, he and his wife, Maria, took me in, I suppose you could say.”
She nods slowly, and releases an appreciative sigh. “It seems lovely. Thank you for bringing me here, Alex.”
Gianni returns, pours us both a glass of wine, and convinces Savannah to let him choose her meal. He enjoys doing this for me, and I’ve never been disappointed. I’m glad to see Savannah is just as adventurous.
Our meal is perfection, and at first the conversation flows easily. I tell some stories about my time at the Olympics, avoiding the subject of my accident, although I know she’s seen the scar on my leg. I find out more about her parents, and life in Nebraska. We keep it light and superficial, and while I know if this relationship continues we’ll eventually have to talk about deeper things, this feels good. Right.
Over slices of tiramisu, Savannah smiles at me around her spoonful of dessert.
“Earlier you said that you have no one else here in New York. I assume that your parents are still in England. Do they come to visit often?”
The very mention of my parents causes something inside of me to shut down. I lean back in my chair and bring my hands down to rub my pant legs as I try to decide how best to answer. In the end, honesty wins out.
“No, they don’t. I have no relationship with my father and my mother follows his lead. I talk to her occasionally, but I haven’t seen either of them since the Olympics in Rio.”
She’s shocked. I can tell by the way her hand covers her mouth. I know I need to salvage things before my depressing family history ruins the evening, so I lean forward and take the hand on her mouth into mine, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“It’s alright. I’m not a young boy desperate for his mum and dad. I’m fine.”
Her gaze holds mine for a moment before she nods and returns to her dessert. When we leave the restaurant a little while later, my hand rests against the small of her back, and again it feels so right. Like we’ve done this a thousand times.
The drive home is quiet, but full of anticipation. I had been determined to let Savannah take the lead tonight on what happens after dinner. Sitting here in the dark car, her hand is on my thigh, drawing slow circles that move infinitesimally higher and higher. Another inch and her finger will graze my cock, which is already rock hard. The torture of being this close to her and not touching her is exquisite and I know I can thank my years of dedicated training in my sport for this ultimate level of self-discipline.
When at last the car pulls up at her building, I climb out first, then reach my hand in to help her up. As she exits the car, I tug her in close to my body, relishing her gasp. I bend down and gently take the lobe of her ear in between my teeth before whispering softly.
“I don’t mean to be so forward, love, but the driver needs to know if he should wait for me or not.”
I straighten and try to make out her expression in the evening light. I can only hope I’ve read her signals correctly and haven’t pushed too far for our first date.
“Tell him he’s done for the evening.”
