The doctor raised his glass and touched it to Lark’s. “To you, my dear.”

Howard was a silver fox, with plenty of sex appeal. Age was only a number, after all. “Cheers.” Lark sipped slowly. The bubbles tickled her nose and made her giggle.

Howard watched her mouth and grinned. “Drink up, and I’ll refill your glass.” He lowered his hand to his lap, and squeezed his crotch.

Lark squirmed in her seat. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe she’d just been stifled too long, but suddenly she felt very playful and free. She looked down at Howard’s lap. “I’ve heard you can go blind doing that.”

The older man chuckled. “But I won’t go blind if you do it for me.” He pulled her hand into his lap.

Lark squeezed, and Howard’s dick grew stiffer under the attention.

“Shall we skip dessert and go upstairs?” Howard said.

Lark shook her head. Wrong doctor. She wanted Oliver, not Howard. But insulting the host was a no-no, so she kept stroking. “I’ve always loved performing in public.”

Howard let out a soft groan. “Ah … you are a tasty little party favor.”

****

Oliver spoke to the waiter, but his eyes were on Howard and Lark. He and Bishop shared the same taste in men, and he could see Howard wanted Lark. Bishop might be in his sixties, but he had a healthy libido. When the couple got touchy-feely under the table, Oliver couldn’t sit still any longer. So you want to play games, Missy. If anyone’s going to tap your sweet hole, it’s going to be me.

Oliver pushed his chair back and stood. He walked over to the trio to request a long, slow song, and then he walked toward Howard’s table. Lark’s hands were in plain view by the time Oliver stood beside him. He smiled and addressed Howard. “That was a fabulous meal.”

“I’m glad you approve. Lark deserves the credit. She picked out the menu.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Lark murmured. “You should taste the dessert.”

“I intend to.” Oliver held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”