Persuasive Approval - Sex Stories

Persuasive Approval

... restaurant. “Mrs Jackson, how beautiful you look tonight,” he smiled through a well-rehearsed bow, kissing her on both cheeks, his persuasive Italian culture always gaining her approval. “Bella Donna… Bella Donna,” Bruno chimed, his voice taking on a sing-song melodic tone, casting a suspicious eye at her friend. The hesitancy to enter into any pleasantries or formal introductions was somewhat expected, although the disapproving look on Bruno’s face when he guided them to their table made him feel like he was being marched to the gallows. All conversations with the other diners fell silent when the lady in red glided across the floor swaying her Marilyn Monroe curves to perfection. Bodies shuffled in seats, heads turning in all directions, admiring the vision of beauty with natural grace, some of the women exchanging looks of despair, some men revealing a hint of jealously. They sipped their wine over a brief exchange of light-hearted humour and meaningless trivia, the speculative type of information that always seems to interest us as human beings, the conversation inevitably turning to questions and answers. He was giving Beverley a brief synopsis of his remit with his employer over the next three years and a little bit about his upbringing living in the North East when a waitress delivering food and bottle of wine to their table interrupted the conversation. After filling their glasses Beverley lit a cigarette and spoke about her life with Charles. “We’ve been together for ...

... almost ten years,” she sighed, blowing smoke above her head. “We first met when I was on holiday in Majorca. Charles was there playing golf with some friends. He bought me a drink at the hotel bar and asked me to dance. He was charming and a perfect gentleman. Later that evening he asked me to have dinner with him the following day,” she sighed, her eyes unable to hide the look of disappointment. “The rest is history,” she smiled, stubbing her cigarette into an ashtray. Echoes of guilt and betrayal rattled around inside his head, searching his subconscious for words that might help to ease her anxiety and absolve him of any misbehaviour. After a moment of deliberation he choked back a lump in his throat and forced a smile. “I do value our friendship, Beverley and I don’t want to risk losing it,” he sighed, lighting a cigarette and blowing a stream of white smoke across the table, searching her eyes, a confession forcing its way between tight lips. “If Charles knew what my intentions were I’m sure he would despise me. Or even worse....He might want to kill me.” She sighed into her glass and lowered her voice to a surreptitious whisper. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she volunteered, glancing over her shoulder, staring at faceless people with furtive hesitation. “About five years ago Charles was diagnosed with diabetes and is now dependant on insulin. There can sometimes be serious side effects from the medication doctors prescribe to balance the body’s sugar levels,” ...