The Dinner Party: Lesbian Erotica
The Dinner Party: Chapter 2

Awoman with a sultry Scarlett Johansson voice answered on the second ring.

“Fantasy Feast. How may we satisfy you?”

Now that was a proposal I’d never heard phrased so perfectly before.

“I…was looking at your ad,” I stammered. “I mean your website. I was wondering if I could talk with someone about your services. I’ve never tried anything like this before…”

Gawd, I thought. I sound like such a lightweight. They’ll probably disqualify me even before I get through the front door.

“Not to worry,” the Scarlett voice replied. “I completely understand. Our goal is your complete fulfillment. Was there something specific you wanted to ask about?”

She’s not going to make this easy. Maybe that’s all part of the game. I had to admit, the mystery and intrigue definitely added to the excitement.

“I was wondering about your ‘a la carte’ menu items. Can you clarify what this includes?”

“Of course,” Scarlett replied. “Do you have our website open? Click on the Menu tab and you’ll see our chef’s selections for each course.”

I clicked on the tab and scanned a mouth-watering list of dishes.

Chef’s Menu:

First course: tomato gazpacho soup

Second course: arugula salad with baby beets

Third course: Chilean sea bass or filet mignon

Fourth course: chocolate mousse or crème brûlée

It certainly looked like a Michelin Star-worthy meal. But I was more interested in the non-culinary items on the menu. Had I somehow missed their intent?

“I sensed there were some—other—items on the menu,” I probed. “Besides…food. Although the dishes do look delicious. I was looking for something more.”

There was a momentary pause on the other end of the line.

“We wish to leave some of the special menu items to your imagination,” Scarlett said. “We wouldn’t want to shape your expectations or spoil the surprise. We engage all of your senses. I guarantee you will not be disappointed. We’ve never had a client ask for a refund.”

I fully understood her reluctance to provide more specifics. This was after all a commercial enterprise that was operating on a precarious legal boundary. Promising sexual favors for money could get anyone in trouble with the law, and the woman couldn’t be sure I wasn’t the police fishing for ammunition to raid their premises.

But I was still a bit concerned about the line of consent. I wanted to be certain I’d be safe and able to say no if things got outside my comfort zone.

I paused, as I struggled to delicately express my concern.

“Will I have…control over the services at all times? I mean, will I be able to stop the activities, the menu delivery, if it’s not to my tastes?”

“At all times,” the woman assured. “Every patron will have a signaling device at their personal place setting that can be used to stop or return any menu item at any time.”

Patron. I kind of liked the sound of that word. It sounded like I’d be the focus of their attention and that I’d be getting some very special attention.

That got me thinking about the company I’d have at the dinner table, and how far exactly our mutual ‘engagement’ might go.

“How many people attend each dinner event?” I asked. “What is the typical makeup in terms of age and gender?”

“Each dinner serves eight guests plus one hostess who orchestrates the service and facilitates engagement. This keeps the gathering suitably intimate and gives everyone a chance to get to know one another in a safe and comfortable environment. We ask each member to let us know their preferences in advance, then we carefully align the patrons and services for each event to ensure a stimulating mix of guests and activities. I think you’ll replace your dinner guests suitably arouse your interests.”

I was already getting aroused just thinking of the possibilities. There was something appealing about the idea of pre-qualifying the people I’d be sharing intimate moments with and still having them be complete strangers. But I was still a little unclear with whom, and how, the erotic engagement would occur.

“What kind of engagement normally occurs between the guests?”

“During the actual dinner, it’s limited to discussion only. And watching, of course. All of your senses will be engaged entirely from the privacy of your own seat at the table. After the final course is served, if you’d like to engage one or more patrons directly, you’ll have the use of one of our private boudoirs for the remainder of the evening. This is included with our twenty-four-hour service.”

“And we keep our masks on at all times to maintain our anonymity?”

“Yes. We ask every patron to wear a mask throughout the entire event. Just enough to veil your identity, but not so much to hide your facial expressions and beauty. I think you’ll replace most of the fun is in watching the expressions of our guests as they savor every stimulating course.”

Wow. A five-star culinary experience at an intimate and upscale villa, with an exotic sampling of beautiful strangers. And complete anonymity. I’m in.

“I’m interested in attending one of your events,” I said without hesitation. “What’s the first step?”

“At the bottom of our home page you’ll see a button labeled ‘Profile,’” Scarlett said. “Just click on this to set up your personal profile, fill in your preferences, then select one of the available dates. We’ll notify you when you’ve been accepted. Then pay the required deposit and arrive at our villa with a hungry appetite at the appointed time.”

Everything about this operation screamed first-class professionalism. From the woman’s voice on the phone, to the soft music playing on their website, to the vetting process of their customers. This was no cheesy escort service or massage parlor. I couldn’t wait to get started.

“Thank you so much for your time and help,” I said to Scarlett. “I’m looking forward to attending your feast!”

I hung up the phone and immediately clicked the Profile button.