THE PICNIC - Sex Stories

THE PICNIC

... face, batted her beautiful, blue eyes at me and said, &#034Buy me a drink?&#034 &#034Buy you a DRINK?&#034 I exclaimed, as my nose detected the alluring scent of the light cologne she was wearing. &#034My God, Ellie! Looking like that, I'd buy you the whole, God damn BAR!&#034 Ellen laughed as Jim loudly cleared his throat on the other side of me. &#034Oh,&#034 I said, &#034Ellen this is Jim and Jim this is my s****r Ellen.&#034 &#034s****r?&#034 he said loudly, as he reached across me to shake her offered hand. &#034She's breathtaking! I see the resemblance.&#034 Then, in my ear, he added, &#034Too bad, my friend. For a second I thought you'd hit the jackpot.&#034 &#034What did he say?&#034 Ellen asked. &#034Oh,&#034 Jim stated, picking up his Scotch and standing, &#034here comes that man from General Motors I'm supposed to meet. Have to go. Nice meeting you both,&#034 he added as he shook my hand, gave my s****r one last look up-and-down and walked off toward a lost-looking, gray haired man in a dark suit. &#034Mr. Murtry,&#034 the bartender announced as he took my empty bottle from the coaster in front of me, &#034your table in the dining room is ready.&#034 &#034Thank you,&#034 I said, standing and offering my arm to Ellen. I e****ted her to the dining room where the maitre d' took us to a corner table covered in both a wine-red and then a white tablecloth and elegantly set with heavy flatware, gold-rimmed plates, stemmed tumblers and wine glasses and a red rose in a ...

... bud vase. Helping Ellen to be seated, the maitre d' then snapped his fingers for the tuxedoed waiter, bowed curtly at us and said, &#034Enjoy your dinner,&#034 before he walked away. &#034This is so lovely,&#034 Ellen said across from me as she looked around the resplendent room. &#034Isn't it,&#034 I agreed, as the white-uniformed busboy came, brought us hard rolls and cold butter pats and poured icy water into our goblets from a silver carafe. Then the waiter sauntered to our table and asked, in a bit of a British accent, &#034Would you enjoy a cocktail?&#034 &#034Yes,&#034 Ellen said. &#034Order me something, will you Danny?&#034 &#034Well,&#034 I said to the waiter, &#034I want a martini... made with two parts Absolut vodka and one part French vermouth. I want the bartender to shake it hard with ice and the juice of a generous wedge of lemon, until the ice is all cracked, and then pour it (ice and all) into a martini glass with a twist.&#034 &#034That sounds good,&#034 Ellen stated. &#034That's what I want too.&#034 &#034Very good,&#034 the waiter stated as he handed us oversized menus and walked staunchly away. &#034Are you sure you want a martini?&#034 I asked her. &#034Well,&#034 she said, &#034that one sounded so special.&#034 &#034Oh,&#034 I laughed, &#034an acquaintance of mine, named Henry, gave me the recipe. It's called an Emerson because he got it from this other guy, he knows, who's a kind of a hack writer on the Internet. It might be a bit much for you.&#034 ...