After a short ride down to the lower part of Manhattan, we drew up in front of a really lovely restaurant set in the street floor of a manufacturing and warehouse building.After a short ride down to the lower part of Manhattan, we drew up in front of a really lovely restaurant set in the street floor of a manufacturing and warehouse building. Out front were a number of tables. One, it turned out, had been reserved for us - a table for four with two chairs on adjoining sides, just to the left of the front door. I sat down in the chair closest to the street. The platform the tables were on was elevated about four feet above street level, so we had a great view of the passing parade of pedestrians. Richard sat on my left. He ordered champagne for himself and seltzer water for me (since I don't drink) and settled back, getting comfortable. It was obvious that all the waiters and waitresses knew him and deferred to him as one would to a favored customer. As we reviewed the menu, Richard told me to relax and talk "normally" to him. He would not, at this stage in our relationship, force me to call him "Master" in public, he said. Although it was nice to relax and enjoy the evening, there was a certain "edge" that I had already begun to enjoy in our roles of master/slave that I sort of missed. Dinner was delicious. After salad and the main course, we both elected only coffee for desert. I was full - and some of the excitement, which had subsided while we ate our meal and talked quietly, was coming back. I had butterflies in my stomach, remembering the purpose of the weekend, and assuming that we would get back to that purpose when we got back to the apartment. |