"Remind me to thank the producers and director this evening for letting me have dinner with you all," you called to Paul as you affixed an earring. You looked in the bathroom mirror at your choice of dress and your hairstyle. If you were being honest, you did look kind of sexy. The dress came down to your knees, but it was still formal enough.
"He insisted that you come, sweetheart," Paul replied from the hall.
You stepped into the bedroom you and Paul shared and slipped on your heels.
"How does your new dress look on you?" Paul asked.
You smirked. "Why don't you come in and see?" You stood up straight in front of the door and smiled, ready to present yourself to your boyfriend.
Paul opened the bedroom door and stopped the moment he laid eyes on you. His eyebrows pitched up.
"You like it?" you asked, hands on your hips to accentuate how the dress showed off your curves.
Paul bit his lip and closed the distance between you and him. "(Y/n), you look stunning," he murmured. He kissed you softly on the lips, his warmth radiating onto your face. You kissed back, encircling your arms around his neck. As the kiss continued, he snaked his hands down your body to where your dress ended. He started to slip his hand beneath the fabric of your dress, his fingers crawling up your thigh.
You pulled away and swatted playfully at his hands. "No! We're going to be late!" you giggled.
Paul rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. "Fine," he huffed playfully. You and Paul grabbed your purse and jacket, respectively, and went to the front door. Before you left, however, Paul turned to you, a chastising finger in your face. "You owe me tonight, though."
You chuckled. "All right, then."
You and Paul arrived at the same time as the two producers and two directors of the upcoming project in which they wanted Paul. You all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before heading into the fine dining restaurant. It was incredibly upscale; it was a place that you and Paul would usually only go for birthdays or anniversaries.
"So," one of the producers began after the entrees were ordered and the wine was served. "Let's talk shop."
One of the directors cleared his throat. "We wanted to explain the project in detail this evening."
Paul smiled his professional, shy smile. "I'm fairly sure we'll work something out by the time dessert has arrived, but I'd like to hear about it anyway."
Before anyone else could say anything, you spoke up. "I just wanted to thank you for letting me come to this dinner. It was very kind of you."
The second director grinned. "Oh, it was no trouble! We're happy to have you here."
The first producer laughed. "We wouldn't dream of not including you. In fact, when I spoke with Mr. Reubens over the phone about this meeting, he was very complimentary of you. He talked all about you."
Paul placed his closest hand on your thigh underneath the booth's tablecloth. He looked over to your and smiled warmly. "(Y/n) is an important part of my life," he said, studying your features. "I love her."
You blushed as everyone at the table voiced their approval. Unseen to the rest of the table, Paul squeezed and starting caressing your thigh lightly. You tried to keep a straight face, and you frantically wondered if the directors and producers could see Paul's arm movements. As they launched into business, there were not any odd glances, so you breathed a sigh of relief. You took a few sips of your wine, as did Paul.
"The particulars of this project will be explained in much further detail than tonight as production dates get closer, obviously," the first producer started.
You nodded every now and then to be polite, but honestly, you were rather bored with this dinner.
As if Paul noticed your nonchalance, his hand began to slide up your thigh, his fingertips light on your hot skin. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what he was doing. Your ears burned, and you glanced over to Paul, who somehow had a poker face and seemed to be listening quite intently to the producers.
He must have noticed you looking, because he gently pinched your inner thigh, making you jump slightly.
The producers and directors quickly looked up to you. Paul did as well as if to find out what excuse you were going to make. He drummed his fingers on your thigh expectantly.
You cleared your throat and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "I felt a sudden draft. It's kind of chilly in here, isn't it?" you lied.
The second director nodded. "Yeah, it is kind of cold in here. Not just you," she replied.
The producer flashed a quick smile and continued his spiel.
You sighed inaudibly. You chewed on your lip, a teensy bit frustrated that Paul had put you into that situation.
For a few moments, Paul's hand stilled on your leg, his thumb sometimes brushing your skin in comfort, you supposed.
Without warning, Paul's teasing started up again. His hand snaked up to the hem of your dress where it had been earlier back home.
You had to be honest with yourself, his boldness was rather invigorating. Usually, Paul was very reserved, even shy at times, in public. Heat pooled in your stomach as Paul's feather-light touches slowly intoxicating. He shifted closer to you in the booth so that his leg was touching yours.
Your mind was racing with arousal and panic. What if the producers caught you both? How would you explain it?
Paul's fingers reached your panties, and when he touched the gusset of your underwear, you realized just how aroused you were. Your panties were soaked, and it appeared as if Paul noticed as well.
You barely heard Paul hum contentedly at finding your wetness. You glanced to him and found a ghost of a smirk on the corner of his mouth.
Suddenly, his index and middle finger moved the fabric aside and thrust into your pussy. You coughed in surprise, pleasure hitting you like a ton of bricks. You struggled to keep a straight face as Paul's fingers moved in and out of your wet heat while his thumb teased your clit. You clenched your teeth hard, choking back moans and swallowing them down so that no sound came out.
Paul's deft digits stroked your pulsating walls, pulling your climax nearer. Your juices dripped from your pussy and coated Paul's nimble hand. Your breathing became shallow, and you fought to control it. You went to make it look as though you were placing your hands on your lap normally, but as soon as your right hand was out of view, you desperately grabbed at Paul's hand. You were torn between wanting to push his hand away or keep it there. You held his wrist with a vice grip. You wanted to squirm and cry out in ecstasy, but you stuffed everything down further. Tears prickled your eyes as screams of pleasure threatened to burst from your throat.
Your salvation came as the waiter approached your table. The producers and the directors looked up to the server, and the second they did, Paul quickly took his hand away from your pussy.
Your arousal slipped away and you inaudibly growled in sexual frustration as the waiter explained that the food orders were taking a while. You looked over to Paul to give him a chastising glare, but your eyes widened in newfound arousal as Paul pointedly licked his fingers to suck your juices away.
The waiter left and the company turned back to you and Paul.
Paul dropped his napkin (deliberately as you saw, but accidentally in the eyes of the directors and producers) and as he leaned over to pick it up, he whispered to you, "Consider your debt paid off."
