Valentine’s Date Fright

“Laura, are you sure this new restaurant is alright?” I asked.It was February 14th, Valentine’s night, but we had failed to book early enough to get into our normal eating haunts. There was not a chance of us getting in anywhere popular, especially as this year Valentine’s Day fell on a Friday.“Greg, it was the only place that was still taking reservations. Next time; you book, as you promised to do!”Laura, my beautiful wife of ten years, was quietly reminding me that I had forgotten the one thing she had asked me to do. Book a restaurant for Valentine’s night, so I could take her out for a romantic candlelight meal.I look at the name of the restaurant again: “Poulter House, Ghostly Cuisine” which did not sound like the most enticing place to have a romantic meal for two. I was also surprised that they had a seating area, as I thought normally ghost restaurants only sold takeaway food.I frowned and then walked into our bedroom. Laura stood there naked, a towel around her freshly washed hair.My frown turned into a smile as I took in my wife’s thirty-two-year-old body. She was slim, with blonde hair, long sexy legs, and small perk breasts that were topped off by equally small pink nipples. Her blonde pubic hair was a small neatly trimmed triangle above her shaven slit. Laura was perfect, and way above what I deserved.Laura saw me watching her, and she smiled back at me. She knew I had been taking in her naked beauty as she moisturised her legs.“Greg, go and have a shower Anadolu Yakası Escort or we are going to be late!”I grunted, then moved a little and stopped, my eyes still focused on my naked Laura. She was now pulling a black stocking up her leg. It was an action that represented a night of sexual promise.“Greg…”Laura didn’t have to say anything more, even if I wanted to watch my wife get ready. I turned towards the bathroom and hurried, as I knew I could shower in just five minutes. ***** It surprised me when I pulled up in the restaurant’s car park that the other five cars were all older than mine; none were newer than ten years old, and some were considerably older. I would have called them wrecks, but Laura remarked that the restaurant was good value and attracted a certain type of customer.I shrugged. It did not entirely surprise me, as I looked across the car park towards the “restaurant” in which we were planning to eat in.  The existence of “Poulter House, Ghostly Cuisine” was for one night only, Valentine’s Night and it was located in an out-of-town, rundown gatehouse which was once part of an old stately home.It reminded me of a set from an old Ealing movie, the ancient stone now chiselled into blocks and ornate shapes to form the building. It felt like the gargoyle’s eyes were tracking our very steps as we crunched across the stone-shingle car park.Overgrown trees and bushes and even some of the upper-floor window panes Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan were missing. I wasn’t even sure we had the right place, though the address on the business card I was holding matched the one I had parked at.A swirling mist surrounded us as we strolled from the car. It brought Laura and me closer, my hand dropping from her waist to her pantyless bottom. I glanced, then smiled at my wife and in doing so noticed she was wearing a little more foundation than normal.Underneath her thick coat, Laura was wearing her sexy little black dress, black stockings and a matching undercut lace bra, pushing her breasts to a size larger than they really were. And as I had just checked, she had left her panties at home. It was definitely a night full of sexual promises.A tall man dressed in a full evening suit was waiting by the gothic door; he had a pasty look and a long, somewhat bony nose. In his hand was a scroll of paper, which he ticked as we approached.He didn’t introduce himself, but I guessed he was the restaurant’s maître d.“Good evening, sir,” he said to me in a deep voice, “We have been expecting you.” I noticed he paid no attention to Laura, which I found odd, if not rude, especially as she had booked the restaurant and our table.We dutifully followed the maître d as he slowly showed us to our private alcove table. The restaurant felt a little odd, dark, and quiet. Our table was only lit by one black Escort Anadolu Yakası chandelier with four small candles that struggled to get their light past the blood-red lampshades that matched the colour of our tablecloth.  “I will be looking after you tonight,” the maître d coldly announced, once again in his slow, deep voice.We took our seats, Laura in the corner facing the small room, me, my back to it and the corridor. I looked at Laura. It was the first time I had looked at her since we left the house. It was hard to tell in the poor light, but she looked a little different, a little pale.“Wine, sir?” The maître d announced in the same manner he had spoken before. It felt cold, almost calculating.I picked up the wine menu, wondering why the maître d was still hovering behind me. I needed a little time to make my decision.“Can we try the red bubbly?” Laura asked, her voice seeming different, a little cold, to her normal warm self. I looked at her. We had never had red fizzy wine before, though it was on the wine menu, and it surprised me that Laura even knew it existed!As per Laura’s request, I ordered a bottle and wondered if it would be drunk.The maître d nodded at my wine order, and then seemed to disappear behind me, as when I glanced around, he had already gone. I thought he must have moved a lot quicker than how he had walked in with us.“This place is a bit spooky,” I whispered to my wife.“I quite like it,” she defensively replied, in an almost robotic voice.The place was a temporary restaurant, but it was rather rundown with peeling mauve wallpaper and cobwebs in the corners. It made me wonder what the food would be like as I picked up a menu. I also noticed we seemed to be the only guests, though it felt like others were there and I assumed they must have their own private alcoves.