Frank had last watched me with another guy ages ago. That sort of activity had kind of slipped by the wayside for us. But when the chef at the newly opened restaurant came out from the kitchen to ask how our dinner was, I knew that had to change. Pronto.

Chef Matt was tall and handsome. His white teeth were just crooked enough in the front to make his smile interesting. He had dark hair and blue eyes and wore a traditional chef’s jacket and checkered pants.

We assured him the Gouda bacon sliders were to die for and the seafood nachos were just as good. And the recommended craft beer had complemented our meals perfectly.

As we spoke, Matt’s gaze lingered on my cleavage so intensely I could almost feel it, and I shifted in my seat. My pussy was growing wet with an appetite of its own.