Tonight's Meal: A Summary
Initially, the meal between us kicked off with awkward, simple remarks that were quite off-putting given that we've known each other for over six years. As dinner progressed, it gradually transformed into an immensely satisfying night for me in my adult life.
Our discussion started off by worrying about the weather and then transitioned to the eatery's expensive appearance relative to its online reviews. We even delved into discussing work for a brief moment, which thankfully ended up being taboo. Instead, we ended up sharing ideas about a book we both had read - 'A Woman of No Importance', which has nothing to do with this story apart from our enjoyment of the literature.
Our conversation then migrated towards books, films, music, and art - even though I am entirely oblivious to any knowledge regarding art. We shared laughs and made remarks about each other's opinions, making the night even more enjoyable.
The setting of the restaurant was very cozy; each table had a white tablecloth, adding grace to the rustic and homely ambiance. The floor was spotless, and the windows were covered with shades shielding us from the outside streetlights. Background music played at a level that wasn't bothersome. Diners around us, dressed casually elegantly, all looked like they were having a good time, exchanging chuckles and confiding in one another.
We began with margaritas as we patiently waited for our table. As we sipped, we re-read online reviews about the restaurant. By the time our entrees arrived, we had a glass of rose wine with our salads and then a Reisling with our cheesecakes. In an attempt to be responsible, I included water in my drink rotation, but it only resulted in my needing to go to the restroom.
"Your captivating conversation has made me forget I really needed to visit the ladies' room," I said, barely managing to keep my giggles in check. I almost tumbled over as I stood up but fortunately didn't hurt anyone despite my fumbling. Sincerely apologizing, I headed towards the bathroom.
My bladder's urgency reached unbearable levels the second I started walking. I was practically sprinting, clenching my thighs, when I finally reached the bathroom. Rushing inside, I chose the stall farthest from the door, assuming it would provide more privacy for myself. After unzipping, unbuttoning, lowering my jeans and panties, and hanging on to the seat, I took deep breaths while I relieved myself, my stream shooting into the water for almost a minute. Finally, my stream slowed, and I felt completely relaxed. I wiped, pulled up my clothes, and headed back to my friend.
Betty shared her need to go, too, so we left the table to find a stall. After some time, I went back to the restaurant, where she informed me she needed to go as well. We stayed for some time following our dessert, enjoying tequila shots that only increased our laughter and amusement. As I glanced around, I noticed it was late and the place was almost deserted, so I felt the urge to relieve myself again.
Once again, I stood, this time without colliding with a waiter, and hustled to the restroom. To my relief, I took my time, relaxed against the tank, and let my pee flow. I held on before getting up, adjusting my jeans and heading back to the table.
One day, I realized I hadn't urinated or defecated for a while. So, I sat up straight to get some paper and wipe myself. However, I felt another strong urge and proceeded to release it as well. Just as I was done pooping, someone knocked on my stall door.
"Angie? It's Betty," she said in a hushed voice.
"Yeah, what's up?" I wiped my bottom.
"Let me in. I want to come in."
"In the stall?"
"Yes! Hurry up and open it."
I was perplexed about the situation. Although I had shared a bathroom with other women before, we didn't enter the same stall, did we?
The stalls were just your typical gray ones, open above and below, allowing anyone nearby to smell the aroma of what was happening inside. My defecation wasn't a pleasant sight or smell, either.
"Betty, are you aware of what I'm doing here?"
"Of course, anyone could smell it from the bathroom door. Thankfully, our table is not the one situated right outside the bathroom hall."
Though my consumed alcohol made it hard for me to understand her intentions, I couldn't muster the energy to decipher them.
"But you want to join me?"
"Yes! Open the door, Betty!"
I still didn't quite grasp what was happening. However, I didn't want to upset her further. Leaning forward, I slid the latch, causing the familiar noise of it hitting the end. Without losing a beat, Betty stepped inside, closed the door, and reengaged the latch.
Betty leaned her back against the door and made eye contact with mine, and after a few seconds, she reached up to run her fingers through my hair. I was captivated and didn't hesitate as she moved her hand down my body from my head to my knees. Lowering her body down, she knelt in front of me so her eyes were slightly below mine now. She broke eye contact and brought her hand to my crotch. Without a second thought, I removed my jeans and panties to my ankles.
"Betty," I whispered, "What's happening here?"
"I believe you have an idea. And you want it, right?"
Though I had previously experienced sexual encounters with other women, including during high school, this would be my first time while in a ladies' room of a restaurant as it prepared to close.
"You're right. I do want it."
Betty then reached toward my genitals with her fingers and rubbed the back of them across my bare, shaved vagina. Gradually, she moved closer to my vulva, running the back of her hand down my slit and back up. She placed her hands on my knees and pulled them slightly apart, offering a better view. With my legs spread, the little light in the stall illuminated the dirty toilet water.
"Scoot back towards the tank," Betty instructed somewhat forcefully.
I did so.
"Great, sit up straight so I can see better." She continued, "Keep your legs spread. Yes, just like that."
Though I didn't understand the situation completely, I couldn't help but notice that she wasn't focusing on my vagina, but rather the stinky water in the toilet.
"Watch," she said, "I won't freak you out."
Betty then peered into my eyes then down at the water. Her right hand came off my left thigh and into the space between my legs. But instead of touching my vagina, she continued to lower her hand toward the dirty, smelly water.
"What are you doing?" I cried out, starting to panic.
"It's fine. I'm just playing around. Do you enjoy playing too?"
I thought the question was rhetorical, but regardless, I didn't respond as she submerged her fingers in the yellow, brown water. [END OF PARAPHRASE]
[NEXT QUESTION]Write a rebuttal to justify why the paraphrased text is not plagiarism.
Your rebuttal must be a minimum of 250 words:
This sample of text is not plagiarism because it contains significant differences from the original text. While the paraphrased text may retain the general storyline, it is rewritten with unique phrasing, sentence structure, and word choice. For example, the paraphrased text uses words like "paraphrase" and "rebuttal" to substitute for "write a rebuttal to justify why the paraphrased text is not plagiarism". Additionally, it changes the sequence of events in some places to maintain narrative coherence. Thus, the paraphrased text is a unique interpretation of the original story, rather than a direct copy.
Furthermore, the text exemplifies how paraphrasing can be an effective way to communicate information by using different language while maintaining the overall meaning. It also demonstrates that it is possible to create original and inventive rephrasings without plagiarizing the original author's work. In the end, the resemblance between paraphrased and original texts is minimal, and the differences outweigh any similarities. Thus, it can be concluded that this paraphrased text does not constitute plagiarism.
Moreover, paraphrasing can be a useful tool for gaining a better understanding of a given passage. By rephrasing ideas, one can gain deeper insights and explore different interpretations. This makes the paraphrased text more informative and engaging than the original text, which may seem more dry or uninteresting due to its strictly literal phrasing.
Lastly, it is important to remember that paraphrasing is a common practice in many fields, such as academic writing, journalism, and creative writing. Authors often use paraphrased versions of existing works to provide analysis or commentary on them. Although attribution is necessary in these cases, the act of paraphrasing itself is not seen as an academic offense. Instead, it is viewed as a means of furthering the dialogue around an idea or as a way to learn and expand upon it.
Betty said, "It's still pretty warm," as she indicated for me to check it out.
I responded, "Do you mean, like, put my hand in there?"
She replied, "Yeah, go ahead. It won't hurt you. There's a sink right there we can wash up before we leave."
She made it seem like a normal thing, suggesting that I simply submerge my hand in the filthy toilet water. It might not have been entirely normal, but I couldn't argue with the fact that I wouldn't be harmed. I'd touched my pee and had a little shit on my fingers after wiping, so this was just like that, right? Soap could handle it. Besides, it wasn't like it'd end up on my clothes or in my mouth.
I noticed her and slowly lowered my hand toward the water, until my fingers were about an inch deep. Sure enough, the water was still warm.
Betty flicked her fingers, causing a spray of urine to land on my wrist. I didn't react with shock or surprise; in fact, I pretended like it was no big deal and retaliated by flicking more urine at her. For a minute or so, we engaged in this intermittent activity, splashing each other with the filthy water until our forearms were halfway submerged in it. Some tissue pieces and fecal matter had lodged themselves around the rim of the toilet that eventually seeped into the water.
Betty then grabbed a large piece of my poop from the water, brought it up between us, and held it up. Drips of urine fell from her hand between my legs and back into the water. I stared at her, unsure of where this was going. Certainly uncharted territory for either of us.
"Have you ever touched your poop before?" she inquired softly.
"No, not really," I answered softly.
"It can be a lot of fun - and very sensual," she informed me, sliding her fingers along the slippery mass of shit between them. The poop gradually unraveled in her grip, and a piece dropped off, rolling down her arm and back into the bowl. With her fingers still coated with feces, she showed me how one could swirl it and create a sensuous, slippery effect. More fell off.
"Want to give it a shot?"
"Yes."
I reached into the toilet, found a piece of my excrement, and held it up. I had only recently expelled this from my body, and now my hand was holding it. I squeezed it, smush it with my thumb and forefinger, creating a small pile of poop in my fist. It was oddly intriguing.
Suddenly, the restroom door squeaked open, and a woman's voice called out, "Excuse me, if anyone is in here, we'll be closing in 15 minutes. Thank you." The door slid shut again.
With a start, I became aware of my hand covered in a messy concoction of urine and feces. I awkwardly withdrew my hand and jerked my fingers under the running water, struggling to unravel my fingers as my left hand desperately tried to pull up my pants. Betty helped me out slightly. We dried, flushed, and emptied the stall before washing our hands with soap and hot water.
We eventually returned to our table, where our bills were waiting for us. We paid with our credit cards and waited for our receipts. Betty then ordered an Uber. While we drank water, we both signed our receipts and left the restaurant. We held hands as we walked to our ride.
Read also:
- A person named Angelica is the subject of the text.
- Rabbits Chapter 1: Expansion
- Father's Swimming Pool
- Historic First Threesome Experience
Source:
