Dinner for Two and a Ghost

Vince called me three days after I left his condo.

His name lighting up my phone made my stomach tighten, flip, and then settle into something uncertain. I stared at the screen for a second longer than I should have, then answered.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re okay. And maybe see if you’re ready to see me again.”

His voice was gentle—careful in a way that made me exhale a little.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I am. Just… give me an hour?”

He let out a slow breath. “I’ll come in two, just in case.”

“I don’t need two - I just need to shower and get dressed.”

“So, an hour and a half?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling a little. “An hour and a half.”

After we hung up, I moved with quiet purpose. I tossed two bottles of white wine and a bottle rosé wind into the freezer—figuring they’d be just right by the time we wanted them.

Then I went to shower. It was an everything shower—rose-scented shampoo and conditioner, rose body wash. I shaved my legs, underarms, and bikini line. After drying off, I moisturized with rose-scented lotion, then pulled on my favorite gray sweatpants and a semi-formfitting t-shirt. Since he was meeting me at my place, I chose not to wear a bra. Bras are so uncomfortable.

Feeling grounded again, I picked up my phone and placed an order from my favorite Indian restaurant: chicken tikka masala, saag paneer, garlic naan, chili garlic naan, basmati rice, mango lassi, and a variety of samosas. I requested everything nut-free, because the person joining me for dinner has a nut allergy. They reassured me they take food allergies seriously and said the owner—who has a nut allergy himself—would be the one to cook the order. I thanked them for their professionalism and for understanding how important it was.

After placing the order, I turned the oven on to warm mode so I could keep everything hot once it arrived.

Fifteen minutes before Vince was due, there was a knock. The delivery guy smiled when I opened the door.

“Hey. When I saw your name on the slip, I recognized it and the order right away. Told my boss before I left that I thought we should throw in some extras since you order from us like three to five times a week—and you always tip us drivers so well. He said yes.”

“Seriously?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He handed me the bags. “Yeah. We added veggie biryani, baingan bharta, and more naan. All nut-free, don’t worry.”

I laughed, touched. “Thank you. That’s really kind.”

“We appreciate your patronage and how well you take care of us,” he said, and then turned back toward his car.

I brought the food in, transferred everything into ceramic dishes, and slid them into the oven. The smell of spices filled the kitchen—warm, sharp, and comforting all at once.

Right on cue a few minutes later, Vince knocked.

When I opened the door, he stood there in jeans and a navy t-shirt, holding a small insulated wine tote.

“Hey,” he said, his voice just warm enough to settle the nervous flutter in my chest.

“Hey. Come in.”

He toed off his shoes and walked in. “I brought wine,” he said, unzipping the tote and pulling out two chilled bottles of rosé. “Figured we’d need a few options.”

I took them from him and smiled. “Good call.”

I moved my bottle from the freezer to the fridge and pulled two wine glasses from the cabinet. I poured him a glass of my rosé and opened one of his bottles for myself.

We sat across from each other at the kitchen island while the music he queued up played low from his phone—smooth, rhythmic, and mellow.

When I brought the food over and unwrapped everything, Vince blinked.

“This is insane,” he said, laughing. “How many people were you planning to feed?”

“Just us. The delivery guy recognized my name and told his boss that I deserved extras.”

“Of course he did. It’s because you’re so beautiful.”

We passed plates and dishes back and forth—dipping naan into sauce, layering bites of rice with paneer, scooping chutneys onto samosas. He drank the whole bottle of my rosé; I drank three quarters of one of the rosés he brought.

We didn’t talk about anything deep. Just pleasantries. We'd already seen each other most of the week and didn’t need to fill the space with anything big.

After dinner, we moved to the couch. We sat next to each other but didn’t touch. Not at first.

A minute passed in silence before Vince leaned forward slightly, glass in hand, and looked at me.

“Can I ask you something?”

I glanced at him. “Sure.”

He didn’t look away. “Why won’t you marry me?”

The question didn’t land like a bomb. It landed like truth. And I froze, just for a second, before I even processed what he’d said.

I tensed. I felt it in my shoulders and my stomach but I didn’t look away.

“It’s because already I’m married.”

His expression shifted, but not in judgment—just realization.

“I got married when I was nineteen,” I said. “I was in college and it was… impulsive. Intense. I thought it was the real thing.”

I hesitated. He waited.

“Our friends won’t tell me where he is and neither will his family. And several private investigators can’t find him.”

He leaned back slowly, nodding like he was trying to take it all in.

“You never told me,” he said.

“I didn’t know how, so I didn’t. I’m sure it feels like I was hiding something.”

“But you were.”

“I was,” I admitted. “I just didn’t want this to end because of something I can’t fix.”

He looked down, then back at me. “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I know.”

“I’m not leaving,” he said, voice soft. “I want to help—not for us to get married, but for us to be together without feeling like there’s someone between us.”

I nodded, my breath finally leaving me.

The quiet that followed wasn’t tense. It was just… open. Safe.

He leaned back against the couch, looking over at me.

“So… any thoughts on what we should do this weekend?” he asked, his tone lighter.

I smiled, grateful for the shift. “Something lowkey. But not boring.”

He grinned. “That narrows it down.”

We started tossing out ideas—dinner somewhere new, maybe a drive up the coast, checking out that small jazz place he kept mentioning. Nothing decided yet. But it was nice to talk about the future like we were allowed to.

Vince kissed me as he slowly began to slide his hands up my shirt. When his hands got to my nipples, I moaned. When his hands got to my bare breasts, he moaned. He rubbed, flicked, squeezed and pulled my sensitive nipples. 

“Want to head upstairs?” he asked. 

“Take me down here,” I said as I took off my sweatpants and soaked panties. “I hope that you’re able to keep up with me.”

Vince found my lips with his, biting my lip so he could slide his tongue in. I opened my mouth and welcomed the kiss. His hands wandered my body as I unbuttoned his pants and slid them down then he slid his boxer briefs down, kicking his pants and boxers off.

I slid my hands around his thick but long dick and started stroking him. He moaned my name like it was a life line. His breath caught then he came in my hands. 

I took my shirt off. His mouth landed on one of my breasts, sucking and biting, his one hand squeezing as his other hand was pinching my nipple on my other breast. In no time, my pussy was drenched…he slid three of his thick fingers deep inside of me to see if I was ready for him. I moaned and my hips bucked.

He picked me up as if I weighed nothing at all, pushed me against a wall, slammed his dick deep inside of me and thrust himself in and out of me like his life depended on it. We climaxed together and he shot a load of his cum in me.  

After catching his breath, he continued to fuck me hard while I against the wall. Each time we climaxed, he shot another load in me. A little while later, we took a break and he pulled out his dick from my pussy; his dick was still hard and I could see his balls were still heavy.

We needed a drink but since the wine was still there, we finished off three of the four bottles. I took one look at him and knew that he needed to drain himself in me soon or he was going to explode - there was no way he’d be able to make it upstairs.

Vince leaned me over the kitchen counter, spread my legs and mounted me. He wrapped his arms around me so he could squeeze my breasts and nipples as he plowed me. He kept unloading his cum in me and I loved it. 

He pulled out, turned me around, and put me on that counter before slamming his dick in me again. 

“My good, baby!” he grunted as he was humping me with wild abandon. “I can’t get enough of your sweet sweet pussy. FUCK!”

“Yes, baby. Take me,” I said as I guided his head to my breasts. 

His mouth found my breast and he started sucking and biting. I heals his head there and I kept screaming his name. The second he bit my nipple hard, I came all over his dick - he didn’t stop slamming into me. Seconds later, he came in me again. 

He couldn’t stop biting, sucking and squeezing my breasts and nipples. I loved it as it made my pussy wet for him. As he was biting, sucking squeezing my breasts and nipples, he continued to destroy my pussy.

“Harder, baby!” I begged him. “Harder!!”

He fucked me harder as he bit my nipples harder. The more I screamed in pleasure, the harder he fucked me. He unloaded in me many times before pulling out and lifted me off the counter. 

I knew he still had plenty of cum left so I leaned over the couch, spread my legs and waited for him. I didn’t have to wait long at all. Within seconds, he mounted my now swollen pussy and rode me hard. He grabbed onto my hips as he was slamming into me.