The starter was enticing. A tantalising treat to whet the appetite and heighten senses in the dark and intimate restaurant setting.
The main was scrumptious and flirtatious. Quelling hungers as conversation and laughter flowed among sultry, seductive glances.
And as for dessert.
Thick, gooey deliciousness. Sinful decadence to indulge and gorge upon.
A taste you crave again and again.
Trails of the splendid treat trickle from your lips as you rise from your knees and straighten down your little black number.
“Come on, I’ve got my eye on that Eaton Mess,” you purr as you reach for the restroom lock.
