The waiter, smooth as could be, walked to our table and put one desert menu in the center of the table. He looked to me and then to my date, of three months.

“We have a warm pecan brownie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that is really flying out of the kitchen tonight. The apple pie, also served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, is scrumptious,” he scanned my date and I some more while we patiently gawked at him. “I’ll give you two a moment to look over the desert’s,” he said as he tucked his pen back behind his ear.

“Thank you,” my date and I said in unison.

I grabbed my water glass and took a sip giving my date the lead to pick a desert.

He picked up the 3×6 thick paper menu and started to skim, “well if the apple pie is scrumptious….” he paused to put emphasis on the last word, “how about we split that?” he looked up at me.

I was smiling at the cute way he asked, but that he had also picked that out of the waiters messaging as well, “I like scrumptious things.” I could let him do some things to me tonight.

He chuckled, “okay, scrumptious it is.” He put his hand on mine from across the candlelit table. “You’re pretty when you say that,” He waved his other hand in the air to flag down the waiter.

I smiled and bowed my head for a moment. My cheeks had gone rosy pink. I swallowed my courage and near bat my eyes when I looked up, “I’ll try to say it more often then.”

“Not that you’re not…” my date quickly came back probably thinking he’d said something wrong.

I stopped him, “No, I know.”

Our waiter dressed in all black to somehow blend in with the moodlighting reappeared, “that was fast! And what have we decided?”

“We must try the apple pie,” my date answered.

“Perfect, I’ll get that right in for you,” the waiter politely responded before he whisked himself off to his next table or the kitchen with our order.

Adam squeezed my hand while giving me a squinting smile.

I glanced down at my empty place setting, trying to find a way to ask my next question without feeling embarrassingly forward. The words started to fall out of my mouth, “So,” I drew out the word, “What should we do after dessert?” There the question was asked, and hopefully he could take a hint. Adam had been the perfect gentleman for the last two months. He had taken me out, introduced me to people, we had plenty of innocent playground fun. We had touched, kissed, and teased until the evenings ended. I was ready to do this all bare-skinned until the evening didn’t end.

Adam’s smile disappeared. He peered at me from across the table. I assumed trying to interpret what I wanted as an answer. The skating rink outside the restaurant was not the answer I wanted. His eyes continued to focus solely on me.

The waiter returned and placed the apple pie between us. “One apple pie, and two spoons. Can I get you two anything else?” He took a step back and placed his hands on his utility apron.

“No, this will do. Thank you,” Adam offered. He blinked from his stare and his thought, but maintained his gaze on me.

I grabbed a spoon and cut into the apple pie. Before indulging in my bite I insisted, “Are you still thinking of what we could do or are you going to get in on this apple pie too?”

Adam broke for a near silent chuckle, grabbed his spoon, and squinted again at me, “well, hmmm, I know what I would like to do. I don’t know if you would like to do that too.” Adam inhaled the pie on his spoon, wanting to hear me give the okay.

“I do,” I said before sucking the scoop of ice cream off my spoon. I could feel his shocked eyes on me. I looked back at him with a smile and lick of the lips.

Adam would not stop staring at me. In fact he put his spoon down and crossed his arms on top of the table. A little smile washed across his face. I took another bite of the pie pretending he wasn’t looking at me so intensely.

I glared back at him. I wanted to think I knew everything that was going through his mind. This was two months of waiting. Two months of anticipation. Two months of feeling him through his pants and kissing each other sweetly or rough, but always so passionately. I knew he would want to have me fast and well, probably on the cold foyer floor, now that he knew I wanted this too. But oh no, not the cold foyer floor. I grabbed another spoonful of pie.

He watched me put the spoon in my mouth and slowly drag it out. I chewed and swallowed, “why are you looking at me? There’s scrumptious pie,” I tried to avert his attention.

“mmhm, mmhm, well I want to look at you,” Adam said without even a thought.

Fuck, he was going to have me slow. He was going to make sure I came a few times before he did. He was going to make me completely weak beneath him. He was going to place his hands on either side of my head and look at me moaning and crumbling from every move he made. He was going to kiss me, on my lips, on my cheeks, on my shoulders. He was going to be completely present with me. He would probably even undress me. And little did he know that orgasms from this passion were always the hardest. I was going to let him have me.

“Let’s get the check,” I demanded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to finish the pie?” He questioned.

“I’m sure.”

Adams hand shot up in the air to get our waiters attention. His eyes still glued to mine. This was going to be something else.