Pen Meets Ink Pt. 02

Pen Meets Ink (pt.2)

By: Kieran King

After their interrupted office tryst, the redheaded lothario decided to throttle back his rapport with the smouldering Aria while at work, which proved more difficult than previously thought. He wasn't used to keeping his dialogue with her so curt, so professional when they crossed paths during the rare intervals either left their respective soul-crushing employment pit. But the quelled hunger in her eyes that lingered just beneath the surface gave him a satisfaction he couldn't put into words, even if he was foolish enough to tell anyone their "interoffice meeting" in secret. His next door corporate cellmate Bob probed Malcolm all day, every day trying to get the slightest hint of what went down that night, but to the redhead's credit he had never been so taciturn in his entire life. No way, I'm fucking THAT up, he thought with a secret smirk as Bob, now frustrated, decided to plug his wireless earphones in and get back to whatever mindless task the higher ups delegated to the soon-to-be retiree. Malcolm sat in his seat, fidgeting to get comfortable yet couldn't find a comfortable position with a map & compass.

He knew it had nothing to do with the chair and everything to do with that woman, that sultry woman who occupied his waking thoughts. Malcolm stared at his blank screen for another twenty minutes before his mind gave up trying to be productive. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head while he propped his feet onto the desk, ankle crossed over ankle. As if by thought, she seemed to conjure herself while he lounged at his desk,

"If only the higher ups could see you now..." She said, making him nearly fall out of his chair trying to straighten up in it, his cheeks reddened with embarrassment, "Just the picture of productivity, you are."

When he realized it was only her, he smiled despite the situation she caught him in (she is technically still the HR of this company and kinda my boss!), he swiveled his chair around to face her. Something he had noticed since their "after-hours encounter", Aria's clothing shifted from business professional to more clingy attire that was usually just covered by an overly large knit sweater. Today, the pixie-sized temptress went with a simplistic, concealed look: from neck to knees she wore a stylish camel-colored trench coat, her legs were covered in a pair of dark pantyhoes and on her feet were an expensive pair of black stiletto pumps with red bottoms. His eyes roved up and down her while she jokingly posed in front of him, as if in front of a camera.

"That's some getup. Big plans tonight?" Malcolm asked not because he was interested but to make sure he didn't have competition.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She gave him one more twirl, his eyes naturally stole a glance at the swell of her bubble butt that refused to be hidden under the khaki coat wrapped precariously around her contours..

He made sure she did not see this, however, nor did he allow her to see his face flash with a momentary shade of envy at her potential suitor.

"I might have somewhere to be..." she kept her answers aggravatingly ambiguous as she completed her spin, "does that make you jealous?"

It did, but he kept that to himself, choosing to lie instead,

"Not at all. You look fantastic. Whoever they are, they're lucky as hell, that's for sure." He admitted, not able to take his eyes off her.

"Whew, well that's a relief considering it's YOU who's taking me out." She casually revealed, slimming her hands down her side, smoothing the slinky dress that wrinkled at her wide hips.

Malcolm, caught off-guard, could only sit there, agape. She chuckled, peeking at top of his cubicle to make sure his cubicle neighbor wasn't doing eavesdropping as he often did, but found him with headphones on, engrossed in his work. She took hold of the chair's arms to spin him around to face her, then with one more cautious look around she straddled him.

"Ar, we're gonna get caught!" He warned with hushed excitement but did not try to stop her.

The moment she settled down into his lap, the solid press of his virility against his olive dress slacks became apparent to her. She bit her lip, rubbing herself against it while she planted her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. A soft moan escaped him, it was caught by her clapping one of her cherry blossom scented hands over his mouth while a devious smile lined her adorable visage.

"Shh... or we definitely will." She whispered before planting her pillowy lips on his, the taste of her cotton candy lip gloss dotting his tongue.

She moaned into his mouth as his hand pressed against the small of her back, urging her to grind against him with more vigour. Her breath became ragged, her movements became more aggressive as she rocked atop him while dragging her nails down the front of his shirt. Then as soon as she began, she quickly ceased her lusty dance with a clearing of her throat and a quick dismount; her hands were already at work to adjust her wrinkled coat back into place while he sat discombobulated still in the thralls of their risky fun. The front of his pants barely contained the stout spear threatening to burst out; Malcolm took hold of it outside his pants to manipulate it to look less protrusive, only to find moist little dabs of viscous excitement darkening the front of his pants amidst a slighter general dampness he was sure wasn't from his or her sweat. Fuck, I bet she's as wet as I am hard--he surmised in silence, knowing this line of thinking would not help the uncontrollable swelling of his girthy organ.

She seemed to rearrange herself to a respectable degree before saying,

"Our little game will continue after dinner, make sure you dress the part, Mal." she took to fixing her hair before peeking out the cube-shaped jail's entrance to find that only the discordant sounds of phone calls occupied the halls. After one last look back at him, she slipped out his workstation while Malcolm followed her petite form until she was out of eyeshot.

He began swiping at his pants, meandering towards his desk where some leftover paper napkins from lunch sat crumpled up on his desk; he grabbed a handful to start scrubbing his pants with discreet haste, keeping his eye on the entrance of his cell for any more unexpected visitors. The threat, however, would come from behind him, in the form of his neighbor, Bob.

"Heyah Mal... uhhh, whatcha doing over there?" The soon-to-be retiree asked, making Malcolm freeze on the spot.

Without needing to see him, he knew from Bob's angle that he looked suspicious all hunched over himself while one arm worked furiously back-and-forth. He chuckled, turning to look over his shoulder with a forced smile,

"Ha, it's not what it looks like. I promise, Bob. Just spilled a little scalding coffee on my lap." Malcolm lied, further selling it with a contorted face to look as if he were fighting imaginary pain, his hands doubled covering his partially swollen cock as he fully turned around to make it look authentic.

"Jesus, kid! You need me to help you get to the bathroom? Pretty sure they got a first aid kit in there." Bob suggested but Malcolm vehemently shook his head in refusal.

"No, no. I can handle it, this is something I ought to take care of on my own, dontcha think Bob?" The redhead co-worker reasoned with the AARP recipient.

Bob considered this and agreed with a silent nod.

"Vaya con dios, kid."

Malcolm slipped out, trying to appear casual with a hefty bulge in the front of his pants, using careful obstacles to keep it out of any onlookers' eyeline.

One quick trip home & a short shower later...

Malcolm emerged from an hourly parking lot, having paid far too much to house his so-so Toyota sedan for an hour. He huffed as he turned the corner to Walnut Street, quickly finding a swanky little restaurant called "The Carver & Bard" on the opposing corner of the block. Fall began to succumb to Winter's arctic grip, as once crisp evenings gilded in golden light gave way to short dreary grey afternoons that were quickly swallowed up by unforgiving nights. The bluster of the city's whipping winds fought against Malcolm's black weathered rawhide leather jacket with all its icy might, digging its opportunistic claws into the hardy material of his grey corduroys. He cursed himself for thinking more about fashion than function when he chose his navy blue boat shoes sans any socks. It'll all be worth it. I know she'll make it worth it, he told himself as he crossed the street and jogged towards the front door, opening it just as another couple was walking out. He nodded mutely at them as they smiled and thanked him, slipping into the thankfully warm vestibule of the restaurant. With a flick of his thumb, the top button of his coat came undone, letting his coat lapel fold over to allow some airflow. At the host's station he stopped, taking his right hand out of his pocket and placing it on the edge, saying,

"Uh de Oro, party of two?" He knew she made the reservation, but wasn't sure under what she made it.

The hostess, a bright-eyed coffee haired woman in a buttoned up black dress shirt and matching slacks stood at the ready with a beaming smile that seemed almost painted on at this point,

"Let's see... hmm," She began tapping away on the touch screen monitor, pausing to scroll through the list before hedging a bit more before telling him, "doesn't look like there's a reservation here under that name."

"Maybe try Ulliac?" He honestly was guessing now.

She looked then popped her head up with her best affirming "customer service" smile,

"There it is! Ulliac, table for two at 9 o'clock sharp. Right this way sir, we made sure to save you a nice table by the window just as your wife requested." The hostess led him to the table.

(My wife? Did they assume we're married or did she... did she tell them we were?)

Deciding to play along with the deception, he asked the hostess,

"Excellent. Is my wife already here by any chance?"

The perky hostess navigated the tables, hanging a quick left before entering a room with sheet glass from high ceiling to hardwood floor; there she stopped at a table that already had two menus across from each other as well as a wine list in between them both, replying,

"She did check in a few minutes ago, but I believe she also mentioned needing to step out to make a call." She pointed to the silver glitter encrusted clutch on the table next to the napkin. "She must still be here somewhere, I don't think she'd leave without that."

"Thank you. Um one more thing? Where are your restrooms?" He asked, wanting to wash his hands before the meal.

The hostess relayed the directions, then scurried off back to her post. He removed his coat and draped it over the chair opposite of hers before making his way through the labyrinth of fancy decor rooms until he found the tucked away corridor leading to the bathrooms, eager to do his business and return to the table before she did. When passing the lady's room to get into the men's bathroom, the door cracked ever so slightly to reveal a face he hadn't been expecting: Aria's face.

"Psst, hey you." She whispered, brown doe eyes peeking down the hall while her butter pecan face was alight with mischief, "C'mere a sec."

Trying to play it cool, Malcolm reversed back towards the doorway to not appear creepy to a passerby but it seemed she had other plans. For before he knew it, her creamy golden bronze hand reached past the ajar door's crevice to grab him by the lapel of his carmine button-down shirt to drag him inside.

"Wha-what the hell are you up to?" he asked, fully flummoxed by her impulsiveness.

She wasted no time at all, shutting and locking the door behind her; he stumbled in, finding his footing in time to avoid crashing face first into the stall. Malcolm turned to her, backpedaling as Aria walked with a swish. Her camel-colored cashmere trench danced loosely against her dainty frame, her uncinched sash hung flaccidly from her tapered waist. As his eyes traveled down her body, he noted what he thought were pantyhose were, in fact, lace-topped sheer black thigh highs. With a playful twirl, the jacket flared out enough to reveal the seams running down the back of her thighs and... that was it.

(Is she naked under there?)

(And how did she know those were my favorite kind of thigh highs?)

"Curious question: what am I up to? Well...." she replied, in a sing-songy voice, her fingers began to unclasp each button from her coat, starting from the top, until she shrugged it off to reveal that she wore what barely constituted as lingerie.

It clung to her in an intricate pattern of soft nylon straps connected by sheer lace that left very little to the imagination.

"... at little of this, and a little of that."

Malcolm's eyes practically popped out of his head at this, he didn't realize but his jaw hung wide open as she stepped past he discarded jacket pooling at her feet. Aria's hips swayed with each step, her movement became a seductive dance that mesmerized him until she was close enough to place her palm flat and firmly on his chest. The bantam beauty tilted her head to look up at him.

"... Is all that for me?" He finally articulated.

"Mhmm. It wasn't easy, either. Had to keep reminding myself to keep my coat fastened, my legs closed... keep my hands off myself." She purred, seduction rolling off her tongue while she maneuvered him backward until he pressed against the furthest stall's muted mauve door; her fingers walked a trail down the centerline of his chest, concluding their tour at his quivering abdomen muscles.

The hinges of the door groaned as it accepted their combined weight, the bearded ginger's breath caught in his throat at the feel of her scantily clad body pressed against him. It was abundantly evident to him that only a light pairing of fabrics separated their bare skin, and judging by the bullet points of her nipples putting extra strain on the fragile fabric, she was acutely aware as well.

"Hmm, you could have fooled me. I had no idea you were thinking about us so much." He replied in a facetious, yet playful manner while flicking his thumb downward along the top of her nipple.

At that she shivered, guiding her palm along the length of the awakened serpent that lay in wait within the confines of his slacks; she drew in air through clenched teeth to hiss pleasurably.

"And here you are, no effort in having a poker face at all." She animadverted, her fingers tightened around the lines of his manhood with crescendoing eagerness.

He threw his head back, causing it to thump against the very top of the door as she switched her torturous tactics to grating her royal purple painted claws along his needful flesh.

"Let's see what we're working with now, shall we?" She asked in a rhetorical manner when playful fingers found his fly and yanked it down without further ado.

Aria wasn't shy this time around, she grasped the heavy spear in both hands as she had before, working those dainty doll-like hands over its vascular girth; all the while, she wore a grin of lecherous satisfaction.

"Someone's verrrryyy excited this time. It feels even bigger than it did last time." She stated the obvious, clearly relishing in the fact that she was making him squirm so much.

"What do you plan on doing about that?" Every word out of his mouth was coupled with bated breath.

Her hand smoothed along his thick shaft, terminating each stroke at the bulbous cherry-red helmet of his rampant cock. Already, he could feel his hips bumping into her hand without any prompting. She removed her hand only to let a generous gob of spit run down from her pillowy bottom lip to her tiny outstretched palm; the lingerie-clad seductress' motions hastened now that her hand was more lubricious. Crouching there, the Lilliputian lover poised on her six-inch pumps while she steadied herself on his thigh, staring down his daunting, throbbing meat. Her gaze flickered up at him, those once-innocent cocoa browns swallowed him up as she opened her mouth to allow her deceptively long tongue; it unfurled then gave the ridged underside a quick flick with a pointed tip. He rested his left hand on the crown of her dark hair, while his right clung to the side of the stall for dear life. Still using his thigh for leverage, she pressed pursed lips to the twitching flesh, working the spit-slick spire with a hollowed fist while peppering it adoring kisses. Malcolm's legs buckled when she engulfed the engorged helmet in her mouth, accepting more of him without any signs of stopping.

"Jesus Christ, you are too good at that." He breathed out, watching slip her tongue out to caress the underside; Aria's mouth hung agape enough that the edges of her pearly white teeth barely grazed the tender flesh, eliciting a soft moan from him.

Malcolm stroked her hair with encouragement while she smiled around his cock before taking him down her throat. The redhead bit his lip to levee the flood of sounds that rushed to burst their way out of him, knowing anyone in the vicinity would hear him. But the feel of her golden throat wrapping snugly around him was almost too much to bear. The pixie-sized Puerto Rican seemed to be emboldened by his struggle, both of her elfin hands reaching out to cup each of his buttocks while she aggressively bobbed her head up and down the fiery root of him.

"Fuck. Get up here, now." he commanded, but she ignored it, hungrily pushing him down further, until his ball tapped against her chin.

(It's like she's milking me for every drop...)

Impatient or simply driven wild by his unchecked desire, the lucky office worker's hand that still rested on her head clenched a handful of her midnight hair between his fingers like a handle.

"Don't want to listen? Mmkay, we'll see about that." Malcolm whispered loud enough for her to hear, gaining her attention.

He used her hair to manipulate her mouth along his veiny virility with an unforeseen roughness that threw her off guard. He sneered down smugly as tears welled up to make her wide eyes glassy, black, mascara-tinged tears soon rolled down his lover's cheeks; the dominating gentleman closed his eyes to revel in the sound of battering ramrod punishing the back of her frothing throat. She gagged around his thickness, he yanked her head back off of his unyielding wood long enough for her to catch her breath for a few moments. Aria gasped for breath, drool caking her plump mouth in an obscene manner; her oral presentation left her eyes somewhat bloodshot as she looked up at him, still breathing heavily.

"I wasn't too rough there for you, was I?" he asked with concern etched on his face; he kindly wiped away those dark tears with gingered swipes of his thumbs.

"Not at all." she said, between labored breaths, voice still raspy with lust, "If anything, I'm gonna need you to fuck this pussy harder than that, papi."

As she said this, her hand crept down the satin-bound stretch of her taut torso to stop between her sweat dappled thighs to rub her covetous core over the scarce outfit. The cardinal rake watched, licking his lips as if he were anticipating a sweet treat; he helped her to her feet before his lumbering presence. Though crouching for so long had taken its toll on her as she stumbled somewhat when regaining her balance, the urgent sound of her heels clicking against the tiles made his manhood jump. Regaining her balance, she took three steps back from him, her hips weaved from side-to-side in almost a serpentine pattern while her hands smoothed down her side until they stopped at the swell of her hips. Malcolm didn't pursue, he took the time to loosen his black & silver paisley tie while his eyes glued themselves to her; his bulky fingers fumbled with the buttons, starting from his collar and working his way down. Her frail fingers dug underneath the strappy one-piece teddy, pulling it up her to expose plump labia that were sprinkled with fleecy black curls; to tease him more, she pulled straps up so that the chiffon veil of modesty was bunched and swallowed up by her hungry cunny. Malcolm worked his hand over the swelling lance that already looked on the verge of bursting while she taunted him with her body just out of reach. Her hands took a detour from the agonizing show & tell to the tied straps holding her naughty nightie all-together.

But before her fingers loosened the knots, Mal stopped her by saying,

"Wait, don't take that off."

Visibly confused, she did as he asked out of sheer curiosity but with a cocked eyebrow,

"What for? We're not gonna get very far if I don't."

"Leave it on." He heard himself saying, embracing this newfound dominance rising within; a sensation that both excited and terrified him, "I want it to smell like me when I'm done."

(I'm learning a lot about myself from her, it seems, he thought)

She complied, leaving one side looser so that she could slide the gauzy panties part aside to give him an unobstructed view of his prize. A small line of dew clung to the puffed up lips, dripping down the profile of her cleft lips and clinging to the inner portion of her toned thigh. Mal approached, placing a firm hand around her throat, which she calmly put her smaller hand over his bony knuckles. With hand clamped firmly over her windpipe, he guided her to the row of three sinks carved into the imitation grey & navy marble countertop situated in front of the wall-sized vanity mirror; fixtureless bulbs framed the perimeter that cast the room in a soft portraiture glow. Turning her to face the reflection, he kept himself pressed close with his hand clasping her shoulder as they both looked long and hard into the mirror.

"See how pretty you look?" he showed her by relinquishing control over her breath, and palming her jaw in his hands, turning her head from side to side to see how sloppy her face had gotten during their play; all the while he kept a lecherous grin upon that long unshaven face.

He ceased demonstrating the toll this kinky little romp took on her makeup, instead this man-reborn-a-dom tilted her head in a way to expose the line of her neck and swooped down to nuzzle it; the whiskers of her beard tickled the sensitive skin, causing her to squirm but Malcolm chased that sensation by nibbling and sucking hard enough to leave a small bruise just above her collar.

"Mmmm, not too hard, Papi, we still gotta keep this between us." she warned with a pleasant hiss, Aria reached behind her blindly for his open shirt as she melted against him.

The fledgling dominant smirked with satisfaction at the size of the mark which was already turning a shade of violet; with the hand that still rested on her shoulder, Malcolm bent her at the waist over the sink. His other hand smoothed down the procession of her spine making her arch her back and hike her butt up as high as she could manage; she waved it tantalizingly at him while she stared into the mirror, her reflection staring back at him.

"Es todo tuyo bebe. Date prisa y toma este maldito coño. ¡Lo necesito tantooo!" (It's all yours baby. Hurry up and take this fucking pussy, I need it so bad!)

She traded moaning in English for cooing in rapid Spanish, and even though he didn't understand her words per say, he understood the gist of what she was saying.

"Hope you're ready." he prefaced before spitting into his palm to lubricate his readied tool, adjusting the translucent partition further aside to enter her.

It took very little effort to push past that insatiable lust-mouth but encountered considerable resistance once the substantial battering ram breached her gates. Aria winced, reaching back to brace against his abdomen to slow his journey within.

"Sabía que iba a doler, pero joder, duele tan bien." (I knew it was gonna hurt, but fuck it hurts so good.)

She continued in Spanish but saw the clear confusion on his face and it clicked that she was the only bilingual one present so she simplified and switched back to English,

"Go slow, at first."

Not wanting to split her like dried firewood, Malcolm took her request into consideration, she exhaled slowly through puckered lips, the rest of her body began to relax little by little. Malcolm sought to aid her in this, reaching around her hip to slither between her thighs where his middle finger found her twitching node. When his toying finger motioned up and down in a steady rhythm, she cried out but kept her eye on every facial expression across his face, every maneuver he made, every action he took to orchestrate her orgasm. Already he could feel her walls relax to accommodate more of him as he arched his back to delve deeper, with his free hand he grasped one of her memory-foam firm butt cheeks and pried it open to allow him ever more clearance. A gasp escaped her as she accepted more of him within her glossy flower, but like a Venus flytrap catching its prey, it clamped back down around him to impede any further exploration at the midpoint of his subduing dong. He paused for a bit, allowing her to get used to the feel of just half of him stretching her out; Aria's breath was labored, her hand let go of his shirt and both clung to the lip of the cool countertop.

"Need a break?" he asked, knowing the answer when her ravaged/enraptured face told volumes.

Her response was a wordless groan and impatient little pushes of her hips to pack in the rest of him; something that was proving difficult, as he did his best to slow his descent into her to a snail's crawl despite wanting to rearrange her insides until she fully submitted to his cock. But for the time being, he kept a tight reign over his desire and threw his head back as he advanced inch-by-agonizing-inch.

"My God, you're so tight. It's like you don't want me to leave." he breathed, now about three-quarters down his monstrous meat monolith.

His fingers shifted their focus from the thrumming bud of her clitoris to the drenched petals that wreathed her precious flower; he nudged her legs a bit wider with his knees while spreading those lusting lips wider to cram the rest of him inside. Aria laid her cheek against the austere surface of the sink bowl, biting her thumb to stifle the room shaking moan that tried to claw its way out of her throat. He pulled back out slow enough for her to be reacquainted with every inch of him, clapping her almond skin bottom to watch it ripple before taking hold of her by the waist to pull her into his thrusting hips. At that her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, her nails were practically digging into the knock-off marble as he renewed his assault by plowing into her like an animal in heat. Each thrust was measured, precisely placing all of him inside of her without barreling into her with the entirety of his muscled weight. Her jaw went slack, an unbroken line of drool escaped from the corner of her kissable mouth collecting on her hand; each thrust made her grasp falter, causing her nails to click, almost mechanically.

"¡Paapiiiii!" Aria could bear it no longer, her cries reverberated around the inside of the bathroom.

Malcolm clapped a hand over her mouth with one hand, while the other tentatively wrapped around her throat once more.

"They'll hear us. Shhh!" he said in hushed tones, moaning softly as he felt her tighten around him as he got more aggressive, "I guess there's no denying that you like it rough."

She nodded mutely with his hand still covering her mouth, her eyes lightened to a cream-heavy coffee color but were unfocused, no longer gazing at herself. His hips crashed against without relenting; Malcolm finally got what he wanted when her body became limp against the counter save for her cambering butt which rose to meet each mind-breaking lunge of his body. His hand slipped from her mouth, as she devolved into a drone of soft whimpers, taking hold of her hips while plugging his thumb into the small divots just above the swell of her backside. Her head lolled on her shoulders loosely, her face veiled by a curtain of ebony; Malcolm gathered a handful of it, yanking her head back up to face the mirror.

"Now you're gonna watch me cum this time." He told her flat out while Aria tried to focus on anything other than his pounding rod.

Malcolm didn't ask where she wanted it, he already decided where it would go the moment she unveiled her outfit. A tension filled him, his thrusts became more desperate, each movement blended together to be seamless until that a bombshell went off in his gut.

The moment had come.

He wasted no time yanking the twitching flesh out of her, lifting her to stand and turn to face him by the makeshift handle of her hair. The redhead commanded while looking down,

"On your knees, time to receive your dessert."

She looked up at him, as he worked his hand over himself vigorously, arching his back just as he erupted his viscous seed all over her neck and down the front of her lingerie. The pungent aroma of his liquid gift radiated off the thin fabric, rolling off her in thick, lazy globs. Aria took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out to calm her hammering heartbeat; she scooped up some of his love milk on her index finger, sniffed it first then licked at it as if it were ice cream.

"Weirdly... it tastes like vanilla frosting." she confessed in a gravelly murmur from an audibly dry mouth, but she plugged her finger in her mouth fully to suck the contents clean off it. She joked, "Heh. So much for not having dessert before dinner."

Helping her off her knees, she stood before him like some splattered angel dressed down for dirty deeds, a wide grin lining her tired face.

"I guess that means you don't wanna eat here then, huh." He stuffed his deflating member back into his slacks, angling it against the pleating of his pants to make it less obvious.

When he gathered himself into being semi-presentable, he turned to retrieve her coat off the floor, dusting it off with quick swipes of his hand before bringing it to her. Malcolm helped her put it on, buttoning it back up for her while she propped herself on the counter behind her, still mesmerized it seemed. He finished, straightening her in the places it was standing on end.

"I say we grab something quick and try to catch that movie." She decided, wobbly starting on ahead of him.

He was right behind her when she unlocked the door, finding a few patrons and some of the staff waiting there cross-armed and unhappy at the clandestine lovers who monopolized the bathroom. One of those faces, a scraggly looking fellow heavily inked from the neck down, watched from a table he was bussing for he recognized the petite Puerto Rican leading an unknown white guy out of the bathroom.

"Whoops, I guess we had an audience this whole time." She whispered as she took his hand and led him through a crowd of judgmental eyes all collectively falling on the daredevil couple.

"I told you they'd hear you." He said back to her, abjectly apathetic to these onlookers; he spoke up loud enough for them all to hear as they pushed through the gauntlet, " 'Scuse us! We've got a show of our own to catch."

The busser's eyes followed them until they slipped out the restaurant, he hoisted the rubber pan of dishes in both hands past the swinging kitchen doors, leaving the pile with the dishwasher manning the sink.

"I'm takin' a fifteen, yo." The busser alerted his co-worker who merely nodded in affirmation while scrubbing a plate caked in partially drying steak sauce.

The busser walked out through the kitchen's backdoor into the night, pulling out a smartphone and dialing on the keypad hurriedly. It rang four times before someone answered with a hazy drawl,

"Yoooo."

"Yo, you're not gonna believe it. Just saw Iván's girl at my job and she wasn't alone neither..."

[END PART 2 OF 3]