by Jay Manus

 

The maître d' greeted us with amusement in his eyes, but his tone was courteous.  “Welcome to the Skylight.  Dinner is not being served yet, but if you’d care for a cocktail you may wait at the bar.”  We agreed, and walked in the indicated direction.

 

The restaurant, sitting as it did at the top of a pyramid, was circular.  There were large glass windows all around, from which one could get a 360-degree view of the city.  In fact, one could sit in one place and still get the 360-degree view, since the entire restaurant was slowly rotating.  The bar occupied a wedge-shaped portion of the restaurant, the outer arc of its outline situated against the windows.  We chose a pair of easy chairs in that area.

 

It didn’t take long for a waitress to appear and ask us for our order.  I’ve never been much of an alcohol drinker, but I figured that with my current invulnerability it wouldn’t make me drunk.  I ordered a double brandy on ice.  Janey asked for a scotch.

 

“Double,” asked the waitress?

 

“Just bring the whole bottle.  I’ll pour it myself.”

 

The waitress was surprised, but to her credit, she just nodded and walked away.  A couple of minutes later she reappeared carrying a small tray with two glasses (one filled with brandy, the other empty), and a bottle of scotch.  She set them down on the cocktail table in front of us, and then began searching her apron for a bottle opener. 

 

“Don’t worry,” said Janey, “I brought one.”  The waitress shrugged and left.

 

Janey picked up her bottle, and with a wink in my direction, bit the entire neck off.  She chewed the broken glass and swallowed it, before washing it down with a swig from the bottle.  Then she gave me a big grin and proceeded to chug the entire contents.  I watched her drain the bottle, then smiled back and chugged my own glass of brandy as well.  Then Janey went ahead and ate the bottle, the sound of her chewing on broken glass making my bones cringe.

 

We were eventually shown to our table, where we ordered and consumed a delicious meal.  We also consumed quite a bit more alcohol, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on either of us.  At closing time, I paid the bill with conjured cash, and we took a taxi home.  Neither of us was in the mood to create any more trouble.  We were tired and happy.  When we arrived at my apartment (whose earthquake damaged I wearily repaired), Janey and I both stripped, climbed into bed, and slept.

 

During the night I was gradually awakened in the most wonderful way.  I was laying on my side, and Janey had snuggled up to my back, her large, soft breasts pressing against my skin.  Her arm was draped over my waist, and her fingers were gently massaging my growing and hardening penis.  “Mmmm,” I said softly.  She didn’t say anything, just continued her slow, sensual massage. 

 

When my cock had reached its full size and strength, Janey whispered something in my ear.  “Thank you,” she breathed, “for giving me life.”

 

I turned slowly around to face her.  “You bring me tremendous joy.  You and I are made for each other.  We’ll always be together.”

 

Her only response was, “Make love to me,” and I did.  We made love gently, tenderly, and with great sensuality.  It didn’t have the violence of our earlier encounters, but it was every bit as erotic, and our multiple orgasms were every bit as intense and satisfying.  Spent, we both dozed off again.