Chapter 3: End Of The Beginning
"I...I...I don't know where Stanley's at." What a great liar I am. Not. "He's somewhere in my suitcase, I think. He could be anywhere. It'd take DAYS to root through all this stuff and find him. I might have even forgotten him, I was so nervous packing. You know what? That's probably what happened. He's probably still in my drawer at home. As a matter of fact, I don't even remember bringing him. He's...he's..."
Someone shoot me. Why is he looking at me like that?
"kitten? How many bags did you bring for two days?"
"Uh...uh...just one but it's packed to the gills. I like to have a choice. It's just a quirk of mine. I even had to sit on it to close it. If I opened it now, everything'd probably fly all over the inside of the car. Then it'd take all that time to refold, repack, and ZIP it up again..." I sigh heavily, dramatically, I hope, peeking at him from the corner of my eye.
"Hmmmm..."
What's he mean by THAT? I wonder to myself.
So, putting on my most innocent face, I turn to face him, blinking brightly, hoping against all hope that he will let this go. And, unable to keep my big mouth shut, I go on, digging myself deeper into this hole. "I mean, I'll look if you want, but it's just going to take up a lot of time and...and...well, I just didn't know if you wanted to waste our time together. I mean, we only have two days and...."
I stop to take a breath and he bursts into laughter, turns to me and says, " kitten," He's having a hard time keeping a straight face, I can tell. "kitten, what are you hungry for?" O my God! He's reading my mind!
My face turns completely red, I can feel it. Heat flushes up from my chest, rushing to the top of my head and back down again. Is it that obvious?
"A nice, rare porterhouse sounds good about now. What do you think?"
My goodness, I've got a filthy mind! Food was not the first thing to pop into my head when he wanted to know what I was hungry for.
"Steak, yes. That's exactly what I was thinking. And a salad. We're in luck, the restaurant in the hotel is known for it's grilled steaks, rare as you want. We'll go here instead of the little place across the street. Let's go." I've got to have some air, I've got to breathe! I reach for the door handle and suddenly my head is slowly moving toward him, via a hand in my hair, and his lips are all over my face...my eyes, my nose, my forehead, my mouth, and his tongue is sliding into my mouth mingling with mine, teasingly. Food? Did someone mention food? Who needs food when I can have this?
My body begins to melt all over again, and just as I reach up to pull him closer to me, he breaks the connection, opens his door, and gets out leaving me sprawled in the seat, panting yet again. Ok, now I'm beginning to wonder about him. He turns me into what basically adds up to a drunken sailor and just LEAVES me. No fair. TWO can play at that game...just you watch, Buster!
We gather our bags, one suitcase each, one toiletry bag of mine (with the hidden Stanley in it
), and a carry-on of his. As he reaches for that bag, an evil smile crosses his face, but I pretend not to notice. I'm going to show him that he CANNOT treat me like this. I grab my small bag and purse leaving the larger ones for him and regally sweep past him, entering the hotel, leaving him to handle the rest. I stride up to the front desk and smile brightly at the man standing behind it.
"Can I help you, Ma'am?"
I don't answer because I'm waiting for HIM to take care of this. My plastered on smile falters a bit, but I'm brave, I can hold it. Just because I don't hang out in hotels doesn't mean I'm doing anything wrong now. Just because I used to be Catholic doesn't mean I have to feel guilty about every seamy thought that crosses my mind.
"Can I help you?"
What's wrong with this guy? Why isn't he asking him instead of me?
Haughtily, I raise my chin an inch or so and turn my gaze to my right, indicating to this dodo behind the desk that he should address...WHERE IS HE?????
My eyes frantically scan the lobby, and of course he's not there. My head swings around and I see him standing outside chatting pleasantly with a very pretty woman walking her dog. The suitcases are on the ground and it appears as though he has no intention of coming in any time soon.
They both throw their heads back and laugh at something, and he bends over to pet the dog, looking up at the woman as he does so, which indicates to me that he'd much rather be petting something else.
Ok. Now my feelings are hurt, and my mind goes back to several of our many phone conversations. To all the stories he's told me over the months, many describing women he's met, not sexual encounters, but just the way he described them told me something. He likes women. A lot. Not that he's a player, not by a long shot. At least, he better not be.
He just appreciates them. Nothing wrong with that. I just wish he'd show me a little appreciation right about now.
"Ma'am?"
"What?" I answer absently as I stare at them through the glass. "Oh, just a second...."
And just as I decide to go out there, he waves goodbye and saunters through the glass doors, up to the desk, smiling at me. My eyes narrow slightly, but not wanting to demonstrate jealousy, I quickly paste my smile back on, hoping it looks authentic. "This gentleman here wants to know if he can help you..."
God, someone shut me up.
"I'm sure he does."
We drop our stuff on the king sized bed and I'm out the door like a shot, before he can tease me any more than he already has. I really need a break here. Thank God we're on the first floor; I really don't want to be alone in an elevator with him right now. There's just no telling what he'd come up with.
We're seated in the restaurant, white linen napkins, crystal goblets, three each...(O God, why didn't I read that etiquette book?), several forks, underdressed....shall I go on? At least I had a dress on.
A waiter wearing a tux that probably cost more than my pure bred Maltese did walks up, and asks him if he'd like to see the wine list. Neither of us drinks wine, so I'm safe there and he declines, but orders a drink for each of us. Posser's Dark and Coke for him, Chevas and water for me. He remembered! Cool!
Two of the glasses are swept away, and the remaining ones are filled with water. Saved again.
Now, about all these forks...He looks at me grinning from ear to ear, probably because he doesn't think it's appropriate to actually laugh out loud again, and my eyes lower in respect, of course, (nod nod wink wink) taking advantage of the situation to try to solve the utensil mystery. Do I go from the outside in or the inside out? Straining to remember what Julia Roberts did in "Pretty Woman", all I can think about is escargot flying across the room.
The waiter returns with our drinks and inquires if we'd like an appetizer, and hell, I haven't even opened my menu yet! And if you can believe this, (I couldn't, I almost peed my pants, make that my non-pants again) he says to me, "Do you like escargot, kitten?"
"No, thank you," I whisper.
As he peruses his menu, I stare blindly at mine, hoping to God he doesn't order an appetizer. Knowing I won't be able to swallow more than three bites of my entree', I sure as hell ain't gonna be able to eat much more.
Dinner went more smoothly than I'd hoped, even though I didn't eat alot. The salad was very good. Tender spring greens with bleu cheese and pecans of all things! A nice balsamic vinagrette dressing...yum! He sure was able to put it all away, though. His appetite for things, ALL things, seems hearty and healthy. O God....