Evie Gets A Date Night With Her Hubby She Will Never Forget

Everything turned in 2022, and Evie has never felt more alive.

Even in her most indulgent daydreams and long nights languishing in fantasy, Evie had never seen this coming. Success. Success everywhere. A victory that hit like a celestial explosion-Evie went Supernova, and the world was awash in her light.

First, it was the email from her literary agent. Not the agent she’d hoped to hear from. Instead, it was that sweet little minx of a blonde. The smart one with a heart of gold and the body of a Nordic Goddess.

Evie recalled that first meeting in the Dallas office. Maggie was brilliant and kind, but it was her breasts that had Evie enchanted. Those perfectly perky C-cup chrysanthemums of loveliness. Even after Maggie sat down and stopped moving, those tits still jiggled. With every breath she took, they rose against her silk shirt and showed the shape of something truly divine. Then there were Maggie’s tiny, Tic Tac nipples that kissed her light lace bra. Even fully clothed and covered, Evie knew that Maggie had the prettiest tits she’d ever seen.

By the time Evie had left Maggie’s office, she was a hot mess. Evie had never even been with a woman before, but she knew that if Maggie told her to, Evie would crawl across her carpeted floor like a cat in heat if it meant getting a taste of Maggie’s gorgeously glorious breasts. Evie had barely given her memoir a second thought and hardly made a decent pitch as distracted as she was. That’s why Maggie’s email had hit hard enough to send Evie falling off her office chair.

Maggie-Evie! Sweetheart, it’s happening. You blew up! Every phone call and text in the last three hours is about YOU! I just got off the phone with Oprah; she’s still bawling. Oprah wants you yesterday! She wants to publish your memoir through Flatiron Books. So does “hello sunshine,” of course, you know that’s Reese Witherspoon publishing house. So does Simon & Schuster. I have the emails of four more publishers’ in front of me. My assistant has several messages from Amazon. Evie, the money they are offering as the advance is outrageous! There’s no stopping this sweetheart; you’ve done it!

Evie hadn’t barely chased down the news with her first coffee when her phone buzzed and chattered across the kitchen counter. It was her literary agent for her fiction novel.

“Evie? It’s Ginnie. It’s a home run, sweetheart. I sent “The Other Side of The Moon” out to my best 7 publishing houses. They want it, Evie! THEY ALL WANT IT!” Ginnie shrieked through the phone. “All seven houses want your book. Four of them are in a bidding war amongst themselves, and two aren’t even talking to each other!” the agent continued in her rapid-fire of uncontainable joy. “Evie, there’s more. We’ve got one editor that’s already on his way to Hollywood. He said he has MGM, Paramount, Columbia, and Sony already set for meetings.” I know it’s a lot, dear, and I know how you prefer to keep things quiet, but I’m sorry, sweetheart. YOU. ARE. IT!! The book is going to be huge, of course! But the movie is going to be even bigger! Yes. A movie, Evie! The book has to be a movie!!

Not quite a month had passed, and Evie was sitting in first class with her husband, Blake, and they were less than an hour from landing in Paris.

“I was right, sweetheart!” Blake announced to his wife. “After my dedicated Googling and history chasing, it’s confirmed.”

“What are you talking about again, you silly bear?” Evie asked as a fresh mimosa was delivered to her.

“History, Evie. I’m talking about history.” Blake continued, “You are the very first person, man or woman, who has come out with simultaneous, virgin offerings in fiction and non-fiction which both are marked as best sellers AND!” said Blake, raising his voice in pitch and tempo matching his wavering finger pointed at the ceiling, “BOTH of which have landed simultaneous movie deals with major studios!”

Evie’s smile shone across the aisle brighter than the sunlight beaming in at them above the clouds. Blake accepted a flute of champagne from the attendant, tipped the glass to his wife, and spoke with a tone of seriousness and tremendous admiration.

“Evangeline,” Evie’s smile grew even more expansive; Blake reserved her full name only for special occasions. “No one has ever done what you’ve done. You’re the first. You’ve made history, sweetheart. You are an incredible woman.”

Blake had made a declaration in the flurry of Evie’s sudden success while sitting together on the couch at home. Despite Evie’s evolved self-awareness and confidence in speaking with her authentic voice, she still had a weakness; when Blake took control-when, he commanded her, she listened. Evie belonged to Blake and made no apologies for it. He was her man, and she was his girl.

“Before you set yourself loose on the world, I get you for me. I plan to give you a weekend that you will never forget.” Evie’s husband told her. “When I’m done with you, Evie, I’ll have made sure you never forget me.”

“Forget you? What are you talking about?” Evie responded. “I could never forget you! So cryptic! What are you up to?” she asked with a hitched eyebrow and curious smile.

“You’ll see. There’s only one rule. If you are willing.” Blake asked as he ran two fingers down the back of Evie’s neck. She shivered, and her knees knocked together.

“I’m willing,” Evie answered, “Always willing.”

“Good. You only have to do exactly as I say. After that, obedience gets a reward.” Blake explained.

The limousine ride from the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris was a marvel. Evie had never been to Paris; she’d never been anywhere, not like this. Evie had felt as though she were walking through a dream from the moment she’d stepped through customs with Blake.

Handsome young men in fine suits took their baggage and escorted them through the busy airport, ushering them through parting crowds as though she were already a well-known celebrity. The young Frenchman wearing a shadow of a beard and mustache opened the limousine door and set Evie inside with the clasp of a white-gloved hand. Then, to her complete surprise, the attentive gentlemen with the smoldering eyes and pouty lips entered the car with her. Turning to the gloriously adorned bar, he asked how he could serve her. Evie blushed, and the young man smiled. His smooth Parisian accent floated across the small space in rich baritone notes. Evie blushed again-he was gorgeous, and that accent sent butterfly wings fluttering in her tummy.

“Ah Mademoiselle, this is your first time to Paree, Oui?” he said in his wine-drenched inflection.

“Yes! Oui!” Evie giggled in response.

Blake entered the limo from the other side and shuffled in next to his wife.

“Garcon, please spoil my wife,” Blake instructed.

“But of course, monsieur,” the young man answered. “Mademoiselle can have anything she desires.”

Evie’s hand shot to her husband’s knee and squeezed. Then, looking at Blake with a touch of alarm, Evie raised her eyebrows at him. Blake subtly shook his head.

Blake touched the console, and a moment later, the window between the cab and driver lowered.

“Oui, Monsieur?” the driver asked.

“I’d like the scenic route through Paris, please. Then you may deliver us to the Hotel Pas de Calais.” Blake ordered.

“Oui, Monsieur.” The window rose, and the car pulled away.

Over the next hour, Evie was served champagne, caviar, and other one bite delicacies known as “Amuse Bouche.” The “mouth amusers” ranged from rich cheese and pearls of fruit to caviar and smoked eel. As they passed through the Arc de Triomphe, drove alongside the Louvre, and skirted by the Palace of Versailles, Evie was nothing more than an awestruck girl lost in the heart of France. The ice wine and petit fours sugared her lips and released moans of decadent surprise as they hugged the Seine River and gazed upon the Musée d’Orsay, the grand museum housed in the turn-of-century railway station. By the time they arrived at the gorgeous Hotel Pas de Calais in Saint-Germain-de-Pres, Evie had fallen in love and swore that relocating to Paris must happen at once.

Soon after checking into their suite, a room that was both quaint and luxurious with windows opening to a view of the Eiffel Tower, Blake gathered Evie in his arms and kissed her. Blake’s warm lips parted hers beneath the soft tuft of his bearded face, and his tongue teasing hers was more than a kiss; it was a promise.

“We have dinner reservations for 6:30, but you have an appointment in fifteen minutes. I’ll take you down to the bar where you will meet Elise. She will take you to the salon, then to the shops to fashion a wardrobe worthy of showing you off at Guy Savoy’s.” Blake informed Evie.

“Guy Savoy’s? We’re dining at Guy Savoy’s?” Evie asked, incredulous at the reality that she had her husband’s Shepherd’s Pie a few days ago, and now she was hours away from eating at the world-famous Chef’s Michelin-rated restaurant. Evie couldn’t have dreamt any of this, yet here it was. The world was hers, and it was waiting to serve.

Walking into the bar that glowed under natural light, Evie met Elise at a table next to a floor-to-ceiling living greenery wall. Over a stunningly refreshing aperitif of mint and cucumber, the women exchanged pleasantries, and Evie listened to names of shops, jewelers, and fashion trends of which she’d never heard. It promised to be an exciting afternoon of overwhelming indulgence.

Walking into Guy Savoy’s was surreal. Evie had never known a restaurant could be like this. It felt like she was walking into a museum lost to antiquity. Doormen bowed at her entrance, the maître d’ greeted her by name, asked about her children, the hotel, and congratulated her on her literary success.

The effects of celebrity began to sink in.

With her hair cut and coifed, her ears presenting teardrops of white gold with a single pearl that hung alluringly above her naked neck, Evie wore a baby blue dress cut deep and fit to adore her perky breasts-sans bra. At the salon, Evie was whisked from one treatment to another. Her legs shone smooth and silky, her face felt soft and radiant, and if she had known that waxing her lady parts could have been done with such finesse, she would have done so ages ago. Her feet, nude and caressed in a classy but stylishly sexy pair of Jimmy Choo heels, raised her hips and flaunted the curves of her ass. As Patrice, the maître d, escorted her to their table, men and women along the way turned their heads to take her in. Evie felt gorgeous from head to toe.

When the regal and handsome-looking Chef, Guy Savoy himself, came to their table, Evie was astonished, flattered, and slightly embarrassed at the special attention. With his robust smile and white hair, the Chef must have been in his late 60’s, if not older, but he oozed a zest for life and communicated genuine joy that they had on Evie’s first trip to Paris had chosen his restaurant at which to dine. After a few questions about any dietary restrictions, Chef Savoy bowed graciously, gave his thanks, and promised them a menu of his very best.

Blake, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, looked at his wife.

“What’s that look for, darling?” Evie asked. Gazing back at her suspicious-looking husband, Evie had to find out what was afoot. Amused but wary by the mischief held in his smile.

“It’s time to begin, Evie,” Blake told her. The look on her husband’s face said more. A hot flash swept over Evie’s body, followed by goosebumps and the telltale tingle in her nipples.

As the server cleared the plates from the previous course, Evie glanced up at him and wondered if every restaurant in Paris had male model caliber staff on hand. “Maxime” looked as though he’d just stepped out of a Bond movie, and Evie couldn’t decide if he was the villain or the hero, but he was gorgeous with his chiseled jawline and tropical ocean blue eyes. As he stepped away with a lingering look and sly smile, Evie leaned across the table linen as asked again.

“What have you got planned, Blake?”

“You’re going to flirt with Maxime. You’re going to make it very clear that you are considering having him, and he should know exactly why he should want you.” Blake told Evie. “I’ll make sure you start off,” he continued, “Then I’m going to excuse myself to the washroom. I might take a short stroll to the second floor and look at the art. I’ll give you a little time.” Then reaching across the table, Blake twined his fingers through his wife’s, “When I get back, I had better see poor Maxime trying to hide a stiff cock beneath his apron.”

After his brief excursion to the washroom, Blake turned left in the corridor leading away from the dining room. Blake ascended the art gallery’s opulent staircase to the floor above, unrushed but anxious. When he made the turn to the terrace overlooking the dining room, Blake saw his lovely wife at the table. With his palms spread wide on the table, Maxime was leaning in close to Evie. Blake watched as his perfectly proper wife tilted her head up towards Maxime, her left hand perched beneath her delicate chin, a finger touching her bottom lip. Although Blake could not make out his wife’s words to the waiter, the effectiveness of the delivery was apparent.

Smiling with satisfaction, Blake felt the flames of sinful fantasy skate across his mind as Evie briefly slipped her hand over Maxime’s, who lowered his chin to Evie’s ear. Blake narrowed his focus on his wife. Her eyes darted in her fashion when titillated, her cheeks rose with color with Evie’s hand giving Maxime’s fingers an almost imperceptible squeeze.

Now it was time for the toy. Blake returned to his wife’s side without delay.

Evie watched as Blake walked back to the table, but she realized “walking” wasn’t quite right. Instead, he was strutting across the floor, his gaze on her, a devilish smile worn across his face. Before taking his seat, he kissed her cheek and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“How did that go?” he asked.

“Do you think there’s a man that could resist me, sweetheart?” Evie said, returning his question with her own.

“Not a heterosexual man. You can never be too sure with the Frenchmen, though.” Blake countered.

“Umm…well rest assured, Maxime is very straight and very interested.” Evie purred.

Pulling his chair into the table, Blake reached into his suit jacket and removed a small velvet bag. Setting the bag in front of his wife, Blake delivered his following instructions.

“Maxime is going to escort you to the ladies’ room. I’ll ask him for the kindness. You’re going to go in and open this bag. You’ll know what to do when you see it. Then, once you return and Maxime sets down our next course, you will put that little cloth sack in his hand.” Raising his finger, Blake paused the words on Evie’s tongue.

“I’m not finished.” Blake continued on. “You’re going to tell Maxime that you want him to have what’s in the pouch.”

Evie hitched an eyebrow at her conniving husband.

“What am I putting into the bag?” Evie asked.

“Why, your panties, of course, sweetheart,” Blake answered.

Evie blushed again, then lowered her eyes and wondered.

“Darling, you realize I’m going to be a public figure soon, a celebrity. Do you think it’s wise to behave like this?” Evie asked.

“First of all, Evie,” Blake answered, “Are you going to do what you’re told, or will you disappoint me? Secondly, you live your voice. You embrace the complexity, wholeness, and authenticity of being the woman you are. These actions only validate that. Don’t take a tiny bite of your life. Devour it.”

“Maxime was wonderfully gracious but explained that he’d be here long after we are finished dining. He expressed his regret that he wouldn’t be able to accommodate my wishes in a timely fashion.” Evie explained to her husband.

“Do you think I wouldn’t know this? You haven’t a clue about the size of this place, Evie. There are rooms to get lost in and spaces to discover. I hadn’t planned on walking out of here with him on your arm.” Turning his head, Blake saw Maxime approaching with their next course.

“I think you should freshen up, darling. Let me ask Maxime to escort you to the ladies’ room,” said Blake.

Evie took the cloth bag from the table and nestled it into her palm. The pouch had weight to it. Before she could give it more thought, Blake asked Maxime, who gave a curt nod then moved to draw Evie’s chair away from the table. Once again, Evie felt the tingles burst across her nipples like tiny explosions of electricity.

Taking Maxime’s hand, Evie rose from the table and walked with Maxime down into the dimly lit hall. Looking over her shoulder at her husband, Evie bit her lip and threw her husband a wink.

to be continued…

Evie’s first adventure can be found here.

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