1. A Polaroid of Kristina, part 6


    Date: 8/15/2015, Categories: Masturbation, Author: oceanrunner1974, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    [although a part of me wanted that, impossible though I knew it was]. I just think it would be fun to go out to eat together. We’re in New York. It’s a giant city. We could leave the building separately, go somewhere really remote, where no one would see us. I really want to take you out.” I don’t think I realized it at the time, but some of my sense of masculinity was wrapped up in taking her on a traditional “date.” It couldn’t be perfect. I couldn’t pick her up at her apartment and go through the lobby, in view of all the neighbors and doormen on the way out, but we could eat together, and I could pay. For some reason that was important to me. Prescient as always, she must have realized how important this was to me, and I hoped, she also wanted to go to dinner with me. She opened her mouth, stopped herself, opened it again, and told me, “Michael, that would be lovely. When did you have in mind?” “Friday?” It was Wednesday. Thursday we would not see each other, as we had already discovered. “Friday it is,” she agreed, looking oddly happy. “Where will you be taking me?” “Uhh…” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. It had to be remote, small, out of the way, but not a dive. Then I thought of it. I had gone out to dinner recently with a friend from school and his family. They were Ethiopian and claimed it was the only decent Ethiopian food they had found. It was far downtown, met all of the criteria, and was surprisingly private, with little curtains that were drawn around each ...
    table during the meal. It had also been a revelation to me in terms of food. I asked her “Do you like Ethiopian food?” She raised one eyebrow in surprise at me. “Very much. I’m rather impressed that you do. Michael, you continue to surprise me. Is it called the Blue Nile?” My heart sank a little. I wanted to be the one to introduce her to the place. “You know it?” She laughed, musically. “No, it was just a guess. An Ethiopian place is as likely to be called that as a Chinese restaurant to be called ‘Great Wall’ or ‘Szechuan Palace.’ I have not had Ethiopian food since I moved to this country.” I brightened at the idea of getting to take her to a place she did not know. In some little way, I could teach her something new. “So…” she looked at me appraisingly, “How will we make this happen?” The plan formed in my head quickly. On Friday night we would leave the apartment building separately. I would supposedly be going to get dinner with some friends, followed by a movie. My friends and I could supposedly be going somewhere nice enough where my wearing nicer clothes would not raise my family’s suspicions. That gave me an excuse to be out until midnight or even a bit later. We would each take a taxi to a coffee shop near the restaurant, from where I could walk her to the restaurant, to make it seem more like a real date than a clandestine meeting. She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, this should all work.” Then I had an inspiration. I had already used a friend to cover for me once this ...
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