London's never really been given its dues as a restaurant hotspot. And while one might imagine that this idea was as outdated as other unflattering stereotypes (eg we're all unfriendly tea drinkers, barging into each other with our stiff upper lips and bad teeth) it turns out that such maligned images are not necessarily consigned to the past.
As recently as August this year, the New York Times suggested it was barely a matter of minutes since the height of our culinary sophistication consisted of boiled mutton and porridge — an idea we debunked, as it rather sounds like the New York Times, “thinks that the Victorian period came to an end around 2001, rather than 1901.”
But you know what? If London has ever been a bit behind the latest trends in what to chew, perhaps it's because we’re more focused on what’s off-menu and beneath the table. We're less about the saucepans and more about the saucepots. When we think of "ladies fingers" our minds are less on okra and more about the digits getting dirty at the party in our pants.
So without further ado, here are some Londoners who've had a fabulous — and frisky — time when eating out. Whatever they've ordered...
Her breath became ragged and I thought it would be unfair to leave her frustrated...
I'd been working on a project with a woman in another firm, and we'd been flirting throughout. Having promised each other a drink when it was done, we ended up in Quaglino's. We'd flirted heavily all evening, and after dinner we went to the bar and sat next to each other at a table that was tucked away.
A quick kiss turned into more as we were crushed into the corner. My right hand was on her thigh, and I started slipping it inside her dress. It became clear that she was wearing stockings — and as I carried on, I realised she wasn’t wearing underwear! Her breath had become ragged and I thought it would be unfair to leave her frustrated.
The table had proper table cloths, so to everybody else we were just chatting and laughing, but God knows what they thought of her gasps. She was very flushed — but it was a hot bar, so maybe people just thought we'd been drinking a bit.
We got a taxi to Victoria and the driver got an eyeful, but by that stage we were beyond caring. I'd planned to carry on home once I'd dropped her off — but it became clear that wasn't going to happen. The cab ride hadn’t been long enough for her to orgasm again, but luckily we had a train journey to repeat the trick!
We didn't get much sleep that night — and it turned out to be a one off – but it's consigned to the memory banks as a night of truly great sex. At least she could change her outfit in the morning — luckily nobody notices if a chap comes into the office in a white shirt two days in a row!
Her knickers easily slipped aside and she had that "just waxed" feel...
A favourite restaurant of mine, when I worked on Pall Mall, was Green’s on Duke Street, which has since closed down. The main restaurant was all booths, which was perfect for getting up to mischief.
My favourite table was at the front, as nobody could approach from anywhere but directly in front of you, so you knew if anyone was coming. It was perfect for anything from footsie to more, and when I was dating, I ate there four times a week at one point. The Maitre d' would raise his eyebrows as I came in...
I engaged in more than footsie on many occasions, but one of the most memorable was on a second date with a lady in marketing, who I’d met online. At that time, you couldn't be a lady in marketing without wearing the Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, which was perfect for below the table activities.
I'd worked out she was wearing knickers, but she was a fan of Victoria's Secret so there wasn't much to them and they easily slipped aside. She'd clearly thought something might be on the cards, as she had that incredibly smooth "just waxed" feel.
After all the build-up in the restaurant and the taxi, when we got to her place we didn't even make it to the bedroom. We had sex on the kitchen floor, eventually making it upstairs afterwards. She lived with her sister, and when we came down in the morning, we found her sister had tidied up our clothes! My embarrassment was compounded by having to be escorted out and having a taxi hailed for me, as I'd taken my contact lenses out, and I'm blind without them!
We got each other's tits out and fingered each other...
I was in a little restaurant on Holloway Road — my friend had taken me there to introduce me to her new boyfriend. We didn't eat much, and as we carried on drinking, my friend and I started flirting with each other. We'd flirted before, but never gone further. I'm bisexual but I'm not sure she is, although I know she'd kissed girls before. I think she was teasing her new boyfriend, imagining it would be a turn-on, and he did seem to be enjoying the situation.
When she went to the toilet, I followed, and we both became extremely horny and started pleasuring each other. We kissed, got each other's tits out, and fingered each other — it was really hot. I think we were in there for around 20 minutes, but time goes differently when you're drunk, and when we got back to the table he was gone.
He'd hidden her handbag under the chair so no one would steal it, but mine was still out, which I assumed was a demonstration of jealousy and hate. He had paid the bill though, and my friend managed to chase him down the street. I think he'd fancied the idea of us getting together, but didn't believe it would actually happen. And he was serious about her, so he got jealous — or maybe he was pissed off that he couldn't join in!
She took off her bra then handed it to me across the table...
I'd been sexting all day with a girl I'd been seeing a couple of months, and when we met that evening, she told me she was extremely wet. I asked her to prove it, and she took off her g-string under the table and held it out to me.
We were eating dinner at an Italian restaurant near Russell Square. I told her she looked hot, but not slutty enough, so she went to the toilet and took off her bra, then handed it to me across the table. The waitress saw, and raised her eyebrows, but ultimately didn't say anything.
She wasn't busty, so her boobs weren’t hanging out of her top, but you could see her big nipples poking through, and when she leaned forward her top fell open so I could see. The waitress, who had a higher vantage point from standing, would definitely have had an eyeful of boob.
We didn't touch during the meal — there was a table between us and it would have been too obvious. But the filthy messages we'd been sending all day, combined with the lingerie removal in the restaurant, meant we were more than ready when we left!
She whispered that she wasn't wearing knickers...
I was in the restaurant of the Athenaeum hotel on Piccadilly when my dinner date whispered that she wasn’t wearing knickers. We'd been seeing each other for about two months, and the week before, when we were in bed, I'd said I was a fan of stockings.
She was a lovely girl who wanted to make me happy, so this night she'd turned up in a dress with hold-ups and heels, which was a killer combination. As she was sitting next to me, I did explore — all the way and a bit further! I'm not a fan of fumbles in public, so it stopped there, but later that evening an excellent time was had by us both!
I fingered her in front of my wife...
I was at a dinner and dance in Enfield town for a football end of year event. I was with my wife of three years, and we were with a group of friends in a busy, noisy restaurant. My wife's friend — who was seeing the goalkeeper — took a bit of a shine to me. We played footsie under the table and the eye contact was electric.
Later, as more drink had gone down, she came and sat next to me. She whispered in my ear that she'd been to the loo and taken her knickers off. I didn't need asking twice to find out for myself! She had a short skirt on and I managed to finger her and make her cum at the table. It was dark, and people were flying around, so no one noticed.
She offered to "look after me" in the loo a little later, but we never got round to it — more’s the pity! I never did see her again. She split up with the goalkeeper, which was a shame as I'd have liked to get to know her better!
I've been married 25 years now. That was the first time I strayed, but I didn't feel guilty. I'd always had the urge and she let the genie out of the bottle. I suspect I'd have strayed at some point anyway, but after that, I actively looked for opportunities.
She finished me off with her foot...
I was with my long term girlfriend in the restaurant at the Savoy. She was sitting next to me in a booth when she unzipped my trousers, took my cock out, and started to play with it. Then she moved opposite and gave me a foot job finish.
She told me to unzip myself and put my hand under her bum...
It was our fifth or sixth date and we were having dinner at a restaurant in China Town. It was busy, so we agreed to share a table with three other couples. Our chairs were crammed together, and she started rubbing her leg against mine. We were jammed in so tightly, our arms were crushed together too, so I put my left arm around her to allow more space, and as I did, she put her right arm under the table, brushing my cock with her hand. Then she grabbed it through my trousers, saying, "you’re going to like this!"
She'd said it loudly enough for the other couples to hear, and I didn't want them to guess what she meant, so I said, "oh yes I will, I really like Chinese food." Then I looked at her with the expression of, "shut up, they will hear you!"
She kept rubbing me and when she started fumbling with my zip, I couldn’t stop her because one arm was behind her back, and the other was cramped into the space between me and a large American man on my other side. I couldn't take it, so I excused myself to go to the toilet, doing the slight bent walk for a few paces, as you do when you've got a stiffy.
In the toilet, I calmed down and realigned myself, and when I got back to the table, she whispered, "you didn’t, did you?" wanting to know if I'd had a wank. When I shook my head, she looked relieved and mischievous, and said, "I've got something for you, but I'm sitting on it, so you'll have to feel up my legs, then when I raise up a bit, put your hand under my bum."
She was wearing a dress which came to her knees, with a split up the thigh, and tights underneath. I reached down and started feeling my way up her legs. As I got to her bum, she raised herself a bit — and then I couldn't feel the tights anymore.
She wasn't wearing stockings, as I could feel the tights material over her hips — they were crotchless tights and she didn't have any knickers on! Her bum was naked under her dress, and after stroking her arse cheeks and her crack, I needed to calm down.
I removed my hand and started to eat, feeling uncomfortable in my trousers. Then she started rubbing me again, and said, "what do you think?" but I was too flustered to answer!
As other couples left, we had room to spread out, and she reached under the tablecloth pulling at my zip again. When she couldn't manage, she whispered, "I want you to unzip yourself and put your hand under my bum."
I pretended to look at a menu, then put it down open and standing up, as a barrier between us and the couple opposite. Then I unzipped myself and she led one of my hands up her thigh to her pussy. She'd hitched up her dress and spread her legs wide, and as she pumped my fingers inside her, she said, "did you choose anything for dessert?" With her other hand, she reached inside my trousers and took my cock out, then started rubbing it — while above the table, she pretended to look at the menu, saying, "I want more!"
At this point, the older lady opposite said, "these pastries are lovely, if you want something light?" I found that hilarious, and my girlfriend said, "is that cream or custard in those? I want something creamy, do you want something creamy Ian?" All with a straight face. The older lady took that as a green light to start a conversation and I physically removed my girlfriend's hand from my cock, zipped myself up and went to the toilet.
If I hadn't got up, I genuinely think she'd have talked to them anyway, wanking me off and pumping my fingers inside her, at the same time — but for me there was too much wrong with that situation!
The napkin captured my cum and she put it in her handbag...
I'd gone to The Ivy in Covent Garden with my girlfriend of about 18 months. She'd promised me a birthday surprise, but it turned out it wasn't the meal!
After a lot of drinks, and a fair bit of flirting, she slid her hand beneath the table and wanked me off under the tablecloth. She chatted to me about work as if nothing was happening, while other diners were completely unaware. I did have the decency to make sure my napkin captured everything, and she folded it and put it in her handbag. We had to be considerate to the staff — and looking back, I realised she'd asked the waiter to sit us by the window so no one walked behind us!
The sequel took place four months later on her birthday, in the restaurant of the Mayfair Hotel on Berkeley Street. We got tiddly on cocktails in their basement bar, then went upstairs to eat. I knew she was up to something when she asked for a table by the wall, which meant no one could walk behind us. I thought I was going to get lucky again, but she insisted on sitting to my right — which turned out to be so I could use my right hand on her!
She went to the bathroom and when she came back she whispered in my ear that she'd removed her knickers, and she wanted me to return the favour. We were sitting side by side, looking into the room, and I was given clear instructions to be slow and discreet, and to talk about the weather! It was difficult to keep a straight face and I wasn't sure of my abilities given the circumstances. Lady-bits can be a bit hidden when sitting, so she had to lean back slightly, without looking odd.
I managed to find the right spot and to her delight the waiter came over to ask if we'd decided on dessert — we had to send him away! She went bright red when she orgasmed but didn't give the game away.
She was always up for stuff like that, and it certainly thrilled us both. I'm sure no one knew on either occasion — she'd have been mortified if they had. It was the skill of doing it sufficiently discreetly that thrilled her — and me! She was very posh, and you'd never have guessed that was her thing from her looks or demeanour!
Samantha Rea can be found tweeting here.