AN: I will be choosing different dilf's pictures from off of my internet searches, maybe one will sing to you and that's how you'll envision Mr. M.

After work I just walked around in shock then I went home. It was around four o'clock so I took a shower, got dressed in a cute lace romper, and went to the nearest check cashing place. It's hot outside so stepping into the cool store was comforting on my nerves if only for a second.

There was a short line so I stand there and wait, while waiting I look at their fees. Hmm, they'll only charge me 5% to cash the check. That's not bad especially when I'm just happy to be getting extra money, though the means in which i got this check......

When I finally make it up to the cashier, I'm very nervous as I slide the check under the reinforced glass window.

"Is this a fake?" The lady at the window asks me point blank. "Because if this is you shouldn't waste my time."She has a venomous glint in her eye that means business.

"It's not a fake." I say calmly. I know she only asked because I'm acting suspicious. I can't help that though, half of me wants it to be fake and the other half wants it to be real. All day I've been reaching into my pocket and each time I was surprised to feel the edges of the check.

The lady scoffs at me but says nothing else. I stand there for a few minutes while she does whatever they do.
"The bank has to call him to verify the transaction." She sounds triumphant like she caught me in a lie but that calms my nerves down immediately. He wouldn't turn down the check that he wrote. I can't be sure of this but somehow I fully believe what my instincts are telling me about Marceles.

As the woman gets a call and she talks to whomever it is for a brief time then hangs up. She doesn't say anything to me as she leaves her chair and walks into some room that I can't see. My confidence in Marceles quickly diminishes and my doubts start back up. 'Do they call the cops when someone comes in with a bad check? Oh lord, what if I'm arrested? I can't go to jail! I know people go to jail for bad checks but what about if this is the first offense? WHY DID I DO THIS!? I am not the type of female who takes money from strangers. Until now.... I'm going to jail....my momma is going to KILL me.'

The lady comes back with an envelope and she slides it under the glass to me.
"The 5% has already been taken out. Sorry for the misunderstanding and any inconvenience you've experienced. Thank you for your business and I hope you choose us in the future for your check cashing needs. Have a great day." she smiles at me. It actually looks genuine.

I look down and grab the envelope that feels a bit heavy. I peek inside and see it's filled with bills. I don't want to look shocked but that's how I'm feeling. I put the envelope in my purse and smile at the lady. I also mumble a quick thank you before I leave the store.

This man actually paid me 2,000 dollars, and he doesn't want sex. What. The. Hell?
I stop dead in my tracks. I look up and see a high end boutique across the street. If I'm going to do this then I'm going to do it right. Marceles was correct when he said that I'm a honorable person.

But now I have to go to a club and have dinner with a man I don't even know.

'At least I'll have new clothes....' FUCK! I hate being materialistic, but while I'm hating myself I can't help but see that the store I'm in has a sale on its shoes.....

~~~

This isn't how I envision my character, I only chose this picture for the clothes and accessories. I'm not knocking the model, she's just not who I envision as I write.

I walk back up to the hotel and I can't help but feel weird about it. Normally I'd be going in and starting work but now I'm just standing outside. My wrist watch says that it's 7:25.

'I hope he likes my outfit. I hope he likes me.'

I'm dressed in a classic middle sleeved white shirt and high waist black shorts. Of course I arranged my accessories accordingly and I have a my trusted gold clutch with a wrist attachment.  My shoes are new as well as my clothes. I couldn't help but get these black wedged booties. Yeah it's summer but I'm wearing shorts so the heat won't really bother me-I hope. I'm not into clubbing or club clothes, plus he said we were going to dinner and I have no idea if it'll be a nice establishment or not, I figure that my outfit goes great with both of the venues.

"Great, right on time. I'll have the valet bring up the car." He surprised me, it's like he popped up out of thin air.

And he doesn't sound like he doubted my showing up at all.

True enough when I look at my watch again, 7:30. He must be a stickler for people being on time. The man stands a little behind me and whispers in my ear, since I'm wearing the heels we aren't as far apart in distance anymore, he doesn't have to lean down much.

"You look great, good enough to eat." His teeth nip my ear and I feel light headed. I turn my head to him and our faces are super close.

"Thank you. You look great as well." I wasn't lying either. The man had on a plain white button down shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, a black vest that covered it, and a thin red tie wrapped it all up nicely. His dark washed jeans were loose in the crotch but a bit tight in the thighs before they continued down straight legged. He has on polished black leather shoes on and I swear I can see my reflection in them.

A navy blue Cadillac pulls up to the curb and there's no doubt in my mind as to who's car it is. The valet steps out and throws the keys to Mr. M (Marceles). We walk towards the car and Mr. M reaches around me to open up my car door, the brief contact makes me freeze up. I need to stop feeling so jumpy around him, I made my bed now I have to lie in it. He opens up my door and looks at me expectantly.

'Ya know- in the movies, this is the time where people scream at the screen and tell the dumb girl not to go forward.' I hesitate before I get in. 'Maybe this is a bad idea- like a VERY bad idea.'

Mr. M can feel my hesitance. He looks at me and smiles reassuringly.

"There are plenty of people at the club and they expect me there by 10, with a companion. The valet has seen us together, your manager can testify that I called you to my suite this morning, and you cashed the check earlier today which will be on my bank records. The evidence is all there so I'd be an utter fool to try something."

Without further qualms I get into the car, as I sink into the leather it's so plush that I feel like I'm sitting in a warm bean bag chair. He closes the door after I'm fully inside and then makes his way to the drivers side door. I send a quick text to my best friend Ross telling him that I should be at Prism by 10. Mr. M's logic is sound but I'm not stupid.

He gets into the car and smiles at me, "Put on your seat belt, I want you securely strapped down."

I swear I hear an innuendo but I can't seem to connect the dots. After we're both safely strapped in he pulls off into traffic. I've never driven downtown but the roads simply look terrible, we can hardly drive a block without there being a pothole. Surprisingly though, the car cushions the bumps so well that we don't even feel the dips.

"So where are we going?" I ask him. I need to get a name that way I can plan what I'm going to eat. I'm familiar to most of the restaurants closest to the hotel.

"We're going to Miliani's."

I can't even speak in response. That place is out of the city AND it's super nice. I thank my intuition for giving me the guidance to wear this outfit. Yeah, it won't be as nice as what the regular patron will be wearing but it's a hellova lot better than the tight tribal mini skirt I was going to wear with the black crop top.

30 or so minutes later we pull up to Miliani's. They serve Italian cuisine so I already know that whatever pasta I get it'll have to be in white sauce and will have lots of cheese.

He keeps the car running and leaves his door open for the valet. I'm about to open my door when it pops open and Mr. M's hand is outstretched for me to take it. I do and he helps me up, the sheer strength of this man can be felt from his just exerting a bit of muscle power to pull me out. I feel delicious shivers going down my spine just thinking about his muscles.

We walk into the restaurant and we are immediately greeted by a stunned hostess. I can't help but think about myself being in that same position just a little more that 24 hours ago. The only thing that hasn't changed is that his eyes are still glued to me. When he speaks to other people it's brief and then I get his full attention again. We don't speak to each other until after we're seated and the waitress leaves to go get our drinks.

"What summer classes are you taking?" His question hits me from way off left field.

"How did you know I'm taking summer classes?" I feel a bit defensive and jumpy. 

"You mentioned homework earlier." His voice has a neutral aloofness that makes me fee like a grade A dumbass.

"Oh." To top off the humiliation, that's all i can think up to say.

"The classes?" Mr. M motions for me to continue like I didn't just embarrass myself.

"Ummm Ancient Literature, College Algebra, and a Psychology class."

"Do you like your classes?"

"I love my literature class but I've always hated math. It's not hard but I'd rather spend my time reading." I don't comment on psych because I'm neutral to it.

"Hmm well, I guess I can understand that. What would you like to eat?"

I tell him my selection and he nods his head like he approves of my choice.

"So tell me, how do you balance school and work?" He seems genuinely interested.

"Well I'm only a part time student but I take classes all year round to kind of balance out my credits. I'm full time at work and everything seems to be fitting together pretty well."

"That sounds to me like something to be proud of."

"I am proud. I started a bit late in the game but the end is still the same."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well right after I graduated I didn't go straight to college like most of my class. I stayed at home for like a year and a half just building up my funds so that I could afford the deposit on my apartment and the first three months rent. Then I had to apply for the school and find a job here. While my friends were about to finish sophomore year, I was entering as a new freshman." I stop myself there realizing that I just revealed a lot about myself to this man, this stranger. He's really good at getting the conversation going, before my silence can get awkward our waitress brings out our food. Mr. M got some crab ravioli dish and it looks amazing.

I guess that Marceles can feel me staring because he offers one to me. I reach for the fork in his hand but he moves it out of my reach.

"Open."

I feel shy because this man is about to spoon feed me like a toddler! I lean over the table and Mr. M puts the food in my mouth. As I'm chewing I can't help but moan in bliss, this crab is heavenly. His thumb rubs the extra sauce off of the corner of my mouth. And then Marceles pops his thumb into his mouth and gently sucked it until the sauce is gone.

"Delectable." He purrs. Somehow Marceles made that seem way hotter than it was supposed to be.

We eat and chat for about two hours. I find out that he's a top employee of some global company and that he's here to represent the city while they're holding a convention here. The building he works at isn't in the city. He's not married, I had to make sure and get it word for word from out of his mouth which he found amusing.

I told him a bit more about me but basically I already told him the most important parts.

"I'm 46. Will my age be a problem for you?"Marceles seems tense as he waits for my answer.

I just stare at him with my mouth open. His body doesn't look a day over mid twenties and his face could go up to maybe 35. No I most definitely don't have a problem with this man's age.

"As long as it doesn't bother you then it doesn't bother me."

He smile is a sly one.

"Let's go to the club, we don't want to keep your friends waiting."

How the hell does he know that I have people waiting for me at the club?

AN: Miliani's is a made up name, if it's an actual restaurant then it's purely coincidental.