09-09-2022, 05:39 PM
At 8 pm when we walked down to the lobby, Alan was already there.
"Wow, you look absolutely ravishing." he said, staring at her up and down. He completely ignored my presence.
Shipra did look quite ravishing. She was wearing a pleated skirt that stopped an inch above her knees. And a sleeveless top with a bold neckline tat showed about an inch of her ample cleavage. I had thought of making a sarcastic comment about how she was getting all dolled up, but had decided against it. The end result was, she looked fabulous, something that pleased me but also bothered me.
Alan's full attire further made me doubt his claims of being wealthy. His pants looked fairly worn-out and his blazer seemed like one of those cheap tawdry ones you get for 50 dollars at Walmart. He was also wearing a really horrible cologne, which he had clearly sprayed a lot of. This tawdrily dressed paunchy puny bald old geezer, was a stark contrast next to my wife who with her high heels, easily stood a head above him. But it didn't seem to bother him.
He led us to the restaurant which was on the same block. It did seem very swanky. When the waiter led us to our table, he pulled out a chair for Shipra. As soon as she sat down, Alan swooped in, taking the chair next to her, forcing me to sit across from them. We started with small talk. Well, Alan and Shipra started with small talk. I was being ignored once again.
Suddenly, the sound of music filled the air. I noticed that the band was positioned quite close to us and they had started playing. As the music started, I could barely hear anything Shipra and Alan were saying. Alan had his elbow on the table and was sitting almost facing Shipra completely. At one point of time, I noticed that he put his hand on her bare knee, and looked at Shipra with my eyebrows raised. She stared back with a slight shrug, as if saying, it was my job to stop him.
I did consider stopping him. But this old geezer was acting in such a lewd and disgusting manner, that I decided to let Shipra extricate herself from the situation. It's not like it was Jeff touching her there. Even at this stage, with all the bravado Alan had shown, I did not consider him an actual threat, but an inconvenience. So if his raspy wrinkly hands were bothering my wife, well, my wife should tell him to stop.
The drinks arrived. Shipra and I had both ordered a beer, and Alan had ordered a double scotch on the rocks. He said something to her, which obviously I couldn't catch because of the music. She nodded. Then I almost fell off my chair as Alan picked up his glass of scotch and put it to her lips. She took a small sip and coughed. Shipra hated scotch. She'd tasted it once many years back, and decided it was too potent a taste for her. As she coughed, Alan laughed and put the glass to her lips again. This time she took a sip without coughing.
Alan's hand had now come off her knee. But it was instead around her shoulder. Again, Shipra and I played the who-blinks-first game. I threw her a dirty look which she returned. The right thing to do would have been to rescue her from his leery grip by putting an end to this all. But this had now turned into an ego tussle. She was the one who should push him away, I decided.
Soon the waiter came to take our orders. I noticed that Shipra didn't say anything to the waiter, which meant the old fart had ordered for her. This bugged me even more. Shipra is very finicky about ordering food in a restaurant. Even when we go out in groups, she likes to order for herself. And here she was letting a practical stranger order food for her? I seethed in silence throughout dinner. Shipra and Alan kept talking, his hand rubbing her shoulder when it wasn't rubbing his knees or thighs. By the end of the meal, his hand had pushed her skirt a couple of inches higher, and much more of her thigh was on display then at the beginning.
I had refused to blink, but was feeling very disgusted. I fought my disgust by switching from beer to scotch as well. And downing a few of them in haste as dinner progressed. Maybe it was the booze having its effect on her, but I thought that Shipra didn't look as uncomfortable as before. She had gone from being a little squeamish of his touch and having a hesitant look of alarm on her face to now wearing a blissful smile. She was barely touching her food although Alan was wolfing his dinner down.
Finally dinner got done. I thought this was it, but instead, Alan got up and said to me,
"We're gonna dance a little."
I looked at Shipra, but she was avoiding my gaze. Instead she got up from her chair and followed Alan to the bar area of the restaurant where a handful of couples were dancing. From our table, I could only see part of the dance floor. Alan and Shipra first started dancing in that area, with a foot of distance between them.
The contrast between them was stark. Shipra - beautiful, voluptuous, elegantly dressed, and tall. Alan - half a foot shorter than her, dressed in cheap threads, bald, ugly, puny but with a paunch that stuck out from his blazer. Shipra moved gracefully, Alan plonked around like a frog. But even with this mismatch, what bothered me was that the two kept their gazes locked into each others. And Shipra, far from looking bothered, wore a happy smile as they danced.
Sonds started and finished but they kept dancing for a good twenty minutes or so. Meanwhile the waiter had come and placed the check on the table and had made a few meaningful visits to look at it. Finally I put my credit card in the check folder and the waiter took it away. I was about to get up, interrupt the dancing and take Shipra home, when the song changed to a romantic ballad. An ideal slow dancing song.
"Wow, you look absolutely ravishing." he said, staring at her up and down. He completely ignored my presence.
Shipra did look quite ravishing. She was wearing a pleated skirt that stopped an inch above her knees. And a sleeveless top with a bold neckline tat showed about an inch of her ample cleavage. I had thought of making a sarcastic comment about how she was getting all dolled up, but had decided against it. The end result was, she looked fabulous, something that pleased me but also bothered me.
Alan's full attire further made me doubt his claims of being wealthy. His pants looked fairly worn-out and his blazer seemed like one of those cheap tawdry ones you get for 50 dollars at Walmart. He was also wearing a really horrible cologne, which he had clearly sprayed a lot of. This tawdrily dressed paunchy puny bald old geezer, was a stark contrast next to my wife who with her high heels, easily stood a head above him. But it didn't seem to bother him.
He led us to the restaurant which was on the same block. It did seem very swanky. When the waiter led us to our table, he pulled out a chair for Shipra. As soon as she sat down, Alan swooped in, taking the chair next to her, forcing me to sit across from them. We started with small talk. Well, Alan and Shipra started with small talk. I was being ignored once again.
Suddenly, the sound of music filled the air. I noticed that the band was positioned quite close to us and they had started playing. As the music started, I could barely hear anything Shipra and Alan were saying. Alan had his elbow on the table and was sitting almost facing Shipra completely. At one point of time, I noticed that he put his hand on her bare knee, and looked at Shipra with my eyebrows raised. She stared back with a slight shrug, as if saying, it was my job to stop him.
I did consider stopping him. But this old geezer was acting in such a lewd and disgusting manner, that I decided to let Shipra extricate herself from the situation. It's not like it was Jeff touching her there. Even at this stage, with all the bravado Alan had shown, I did not consider him an actual threat, but an inconvenience. So if his raspy wrinkly hands were bothering my wife, well, my wife should tell him to stop.
The drinks arrived. Shipra and I had both ordered a beer, and Alan had ordered a double scotch on the rocks. He said something to her, which obviously I couldn't catch because of the music. She nodded. Then I almost fell off my chair as Alan picked up his glass of scotch and put it to her lips. She took a small sip and coughed. Shipra hated scotch. She'd tasted it once many years back, and decided it was too potent a taste for her. As she coughed, Alan laughed and put the glass to her lips again. This time she took a sip without coughing.
Alan's hand had now come off her knee. But it was instead around her shoulder. Again, Shipra and I played the who-blinks-first game. I threw her a dirty look which she returned. The right thing to do would have been to rescue her from his leery grip by putting an end to this all. But this had now turned into an ego tussle. She was the one who should push him away, I decided.
Soon the waiter came to take our orders. I noticed that Shipra didn't say anything to the waiter, which meant the old fart had ordered for her. This bugged me even more. Shipra is very finicky about ordering food in a restaurant. Even when we go out in groups, she likes to order for herself. And here she was letting a practical stranger order food for her? I seethed in silence throughout dinner. Shipra and Alan kept talking, his hand rubbing her shoulder when it wasn't rubbing his knees or thighs. By the end of the meal, his hand had pushed her skirt a couple of inches higher, and much more of her thigh was on display then at the beginning.
I had refused to blink, but was feeling very disgusted. I fought my disgust by switching from beer to scotch as well. And downing a few of them in haste as dinner progressed. Maybe it was the booze having its effect on her, but I thought that Shipra didn't look as uncomfortable as before. She had gone from being a little squeamish of his touch and having a hesitant look of alarm on her face to now wearing a blissful smile. She was barely touching her food although Alan was wolfing his dinner down.
Finally dinner got done. I thought this was it, but instead, Alan got up and said to me,
"We're gonna dance a little."
I looked at Shipra, but she was avoiding my gaze. Instead she got up from her chair and followed Alan to the bar area of the restaurant where a handful of couples were dancing. From our table, I could only see part of the dance floor. Alan and Shipra first started dancing in that area, with a foot of distance between them.
The contrast between them was stark. Shipra - beautiful, voluptuous, elegantly dressed, and tall. Alan - half a foot shorter than her, dressed in cheap threads, bald, ugly, puny but with a paunch that stuck out from his blazer. Shipra moved gracefully, Alan plonked around like a frog. But even with this mismatch, what bothered me was that the two kept their gazes locked into each others. And Shipra, far from looking bothered, wore a happy smile as they danced.
Sonds started and finished but they kept dancing for a good twenty minutes or so. Meanwhile the waiter had come and placed the check on the table and had made a few meaningful visits to look at it. Finally I put my credit card in the check folder and the waiter took it away. I was about to get up, interrupt the dancing and take Shipra home, when the song changed to a romantic ballad. An ideal slow dancing song.
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