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Finally, it looks like the clown has started to bore Storm, and my jaw relaxes some.

Storm and I do our best to avoid eye contact, but as I watch clown’s hands and eyes, I notice Storm watching my own date almost as much.

As Storm wipes her mouth halfway through her main, she excuses herself, and she heads to the bathroom.

I follow her a minute later, and we meet inside.

After I lock the door behind me, we stand in the bathroom, alone. I give zero Fs. Any problems, I’ll buy the place on the spot.

Storm crosses her arms, and they again cover her perfect breasts. I watch her closely, and I’m not happy.

“So, any pointers, even if you can’t hear us?” she asks.

I’m unsure what to say, but I have to say something. “You are doing well, but I’m sure he has something, for the woman I’m with.” It is a long shot, but I am far from my best.

“Really,” Storm asks raising a brow.

“A hundred percent,” I say as cold as ice.

“What? Did he try and get in her pants?”

“Not yet, but I think I recognize him from some herpes website too!” Storm laughs loud, and she hits me playfully. I calm some, and I lighten. I did however mean it .

“We should go home,” I say, wanting us out of here and fast.

“What, climb out the window?”

I shrug, anything will do.

“And what about your date. Miss Russia or Miss Universe?”

“We leave her for him. She’s not my type.”

We both sigh, and Storm checks her watch. “I’m not feeling anything,” she says. “But I might, you know… ”

“No!” I say. There is no way he is getting in her pants. Not now. Not ever. “Look, he won’t fuck you with those panties on.”

Storm puts her hands on her hips. “Really. So, you set me up?”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll take them off, right now.”

“No way, you keep those on. Herpes guy, whatever, is not going to fuck you!”

Storm and I stare each other out, and she steps closer.

“Why not?” My chest tightens, and I do not like where this is going. “Why not?”

I look at her, and she finally sighs before shaking her head and leaving. She wanted me to say it.

To say,she is mine!

The restof the dinner goes without drama, but I notice clown whatever, and even my date, turning the energy up. I listen closely to the prick more than the Russian model, and he is trying to convince Storm he has the perfect life.

Meanwhile, the Russian talks about catwalk shows in Milan, Rome and Paris. Also, the fact that she’s never been fucked like she was with me.

Thank God, Storm and I are not having sex. The poor girl’s body would be worked over, and she’d be corrupted for life.