I excused myself from the table and walked to the back of the restaurant to hit the head.
I’m no snob, but you can always tell how well a restaurant is run by the state of its bathrooms. This one was spectacular. The white tile was gleaming. It smelled faintly of Christmas trees. Soft music was playing. It was so spotless I found it hard to believe anyone had ever used it before.
I swung by the bar on the way back to the table. I was in no hurry to rejoin the conversation. A business dinner for her company - full of her coworkers’ disingenuous babbling about leadership and strategy and key performance metrics - was losing its appeal. We were in a new city. So much to see and explore. And barring that, there was always the fancy hotel, and the certainty of her naked body against mine.
Standing at the bar nursing my drink, I found that I could see our group across the dining area. I could see her.
She was facing away from me. Her dress wrapped her tightly, accentuating her curves. She had worn her hair up, leaving her neck and her shoulders exposed. I watched her talking and listening, nodding her head on occasion. Eventually, while she was listening to the lady across the table, I saw her reach down and touch the seat of the empty chair beside her. I realized that would have been my thigh. But I wasn’t there.
As I walked over to them, I felt the vague, dull throb of impatience and impertinence and inappropriateness sharpen to a keen edge. I have evolved into 90% domesticated house pet, 10% wild beast. Some days the percentages vary.
When I got to the table and put my hand on her shoulder, she immediately looked up and smiled. I bent down until I could see the little gold flecks in her eyes… and then I kissed her.
I could taste the sweet moscato wine she had chosen. She smelled of perfume, and shampoo, and that her-ness that I fight and love and wish for. Her lips have always seemed to me to be some manifestation of her spirit. A smile. A dirty plea whispered in my ear. An endearing song from the shower. A casual 2 AM brush against the back of my neck that promises understanding, enduring affection, exclusive access to something unearned and undeserved.
I stood up, and addressed the now-quiet group. “My apologies, but I’m going to have to borrow her for a minute.” This lie I told merely for the sake of politeness. As she stood, I slipped her coat off the back of the chair and picked up her purse.
I wrapped my arm around her, and turned her toward the door.
Good night, said the CEO.
See you tomorrow, said the salesman.
Oh my, said the lady sitting across the table.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
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