‘I’m not telling you’, came the answer when she asked, understandably enough, what was inside. Milf porn She’d entirely forgotten that he was there at all. Waiters desperately ignore patronising conversation from idiotic men trying to show they know something about wine to their disinterested dates. Nobody gives a fuck that a very pretty piece of jewellery has changed hands at the table in the corner. Couples continue their inane chitchat. ‘Don’t you like it?’
She can’t look at him. Laconic, even. She looks like a different woman. A purpose. Flanked. Irritation creeps over him, and he downs his wine, pays the bill, and starts idly, petulantly casting about the restaurant for interesting people to look at. Don’t you like it?’
She looks around. Flanked. In a restaurant. She was excited to be given a present. People are oblivious to the psychological warfare going on at the table tucked away in the corner. She realises her eyes haven’t moved off the box- and that now her face is flushed, and the smallest beads of sweat are forming on her brow.
