The Flying Pussyfoot, Limbo City, Wednesday

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Due to owning a business, Kathy sometimes got very weird, not-at-all-related-to-her-business offers from vendors trying to establish a working relationship. Most she tossed, but occasionally something really cool would end up in her inbox. Like a pair of tickets for a Murder Mystery Dinner, taking place on a newly-renovated luxury train from the 1930s. People would sign up, choose a character from the list of possible dinner attendees, and then show up and ride the train around Limbo City for a few hours, having dinner and trying to solve the whodunnit.

Kathy had been charmed from the start and had pretty much decided to go immediately. The question of who to take was answered when she spotted that one of the characters listed was a "rich rock star."

That made it easy.

One conversation of 'You don't have to dress up and you can bring your guitar!' and 'pleeeeease, it sounds like a ton of fun!' later, and Kathy and Dante had their tickets and were waiting to board the extravagant train cars of The Flying Pussyfoot for four hours of delicious, murdery fun!

[For the poor sap who agreed to this]

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Kathy reached for his hand and squeezed it, wordlessly telling him it was all right.

And then put it back where is was.

"What about you, Mr. Redgrave?" she asked. "Are you the kind of man who'll eat just about anything put in front of him...?"

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"I don't really discriminate," Dante agreed, the smirk flicking back on. "Feels like a waste."

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"Surely you must have a favorite," Kathy said, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

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"Nah," Dante said lightly. "I just like taking my time with everything..."

His fingers - two of them, now - pressed against her.

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It took Kathy a moment to find her voice. "Really?" she asked, a little choked. "How's your spice tolerance?"

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"You askin' if I like 'em hot?" Dante asked, smirking lazily as his fingers slid up and down, between her lips.

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"Oh no," Kathy said, unable to suppress a shiver. She wasn't as wet as she'd been before, but he was making progress. "I'm asking if you can handle the heat."

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He knew how to get her back there again. He'd had enough practice. "Handling has never been my problem," he said, and his fingers pressed against her clit.

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Just fucking with her under the table, surrounded by strangers was doing it. Fortunately, the squeak she hadn't been able to hide was covered by the arrival of the first course, platters of hors d'oeuvres brought to each table.

"B-Bold to say," Kathy stammered slightly. "Of course, I'll reserve judgment until I see how you handle Korean. We tend towards very spicy." Beat. "Cuisine."

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Dante's hand slid out from her skirt just before the waiter could make it to their table. "I do love me some gochujang," he mused.

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Kathy's eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise. "You know gochujang?" she asked. "You do have experience with Korean."

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"Not exclusively," Dante said, mouth curving. "But it does give you one hell of a kick."

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"Sometimes that's exactly what you need," Kathy said, smiling up at the waiter in thanks as he set the plate down in front of her.

While her hand when creeping into Dante's lap.

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"I'm into it," Dante said, leaning in a little so he could turn that into a whisper.

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"Not yet you're not," she said, equally quietly, giving him a devilish grin.

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Dante raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"You know what," he said, "Looking at the menu, I think I could do with a taco right now."

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"Really, young man," another woman at their table sniffed. "You're at a fine dinner like this and you want tacos?"

Kathy's eyes danced. "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes you just get a craving."

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"Besides," Dante said, grinning brightly, "Never heard of artisinal tacos before? I hear there's a place that does 'em with kimchi at the other end of town."

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"You should try a kimchi sandwich sometime," Kathy deadpanned, though her eyes were full of suppressed laughed. "Kimchi on white is one of my favorites."

Her hand worked its way up his thigh, inch by inch. Sometimes sliding. Other times, finger-walking, nails sharp, even through the fabric.

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Dante bit down a laugh of his own. The distraction of her fingers helped. "So you're a white bread kinda girl," he said. "Interesting."

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"Sometimes you want something a little plain to highlight the complexity of the rest of what's on offer," she said, tone sweet for all that her face was full of sass.

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Dante chuckled softly, but he said nothing else for a moment as he turned to his plate. It was gonna get cold at this rate, and he was hungry.

He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.

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Just as Kathy got to his groin, cupping it softly...and then squeezing.

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Dante's eyes slid shut.

He was... just really enjoying the food. Yes.

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Kathy also picked up her fork, starting to pick at her appetizer, while her other hand stealthily pulled down his zipper, one tooth at a time. "So, are you on tour right now, Mr. Redgrave?" she asked.

She liked making Dante talk while she fucked with him.