Last Date 2

As I arrive at the restaurant, you wave from a table near the back.

"Please, no need to get up, it's been a long time hasn't it," I greet you as I sit down. I notice the years have been kind to your face. You wear glasses now, horn rimmed, a more serious look for you.

Your brown eyes lock on mine, unblinking as you greet me quietly. "Thank you for accepting my dinner invitation tonight. It's been years since we've seen each other. I had them bring you a gin and tonic, hope you still drink those."

"I do, you remembered, thank you."

"You never come to our class reunions," you admonish. "You've been slacking."

The dig is familiar, but you're not quite as I remember you, glasses too. Where's the boisterous voice that used to fill a room?

"It's not that I've been avoiding you, you're the party girl and parties have never been my thing."

You lower your drink and stir the ice with your finger, expressionless.

Hmm, definitely not the you I remember. Many seconds pass.

"Are you two ready to order now?" interrupts the server, a black-clad purple-haired young woman sporting garish tattoos and piercings. A strangely tribal vibe for an upscale restaurant, but hey.

"Give us a few more minutes please," I mutter.

"Of course, I'll be back in a bit." She disappears into the periphery of diners.

"Were you ever in love with me?" you ask.

Whoa. I'm taken aback, no small talk today apparently, but then again you always were outrageously blunt. I take a few seconds to process this and decide to respond just as bluntly.

"No, you always knew that."

"But you wanted to fuck me didn't you? I was in love with you for a long time and I would have fucked you gladly. I would have been the best fuck you ever had. And I would have married you in a heartbeat. But you never gave me the time of day."

You raise your glass for another sip. So this was the reason for asking me to dinner after all this time? Still no sign of emotion, very matter-of-fact, but on the other hand the raw language always so characteristic of you.

"I wasn't being cruel," I respond. "I never really wanted to be married, to you or anyone else. But yes, if we're being blunt, I wanted to fuck you."

"So why did you get married then?"

"Because she and I were young, she was intriguing and smart and a good fuck at first, and that made me weak. That all changed, but not before the twins were born. I suffered through the marriage until they were grown and then I got out."

"My third husband died recently."

"Fuck them all to death did you?" What the hell.

"Interesting how you're so much coarser than I remember."

"And interesting how you were the potty-mouthed young lady who circulated the dirty joke pamphlets in high school. I still remember some of them."

"I never had kids with any of my husbands, couldn't. You wouldn't have had to suffer in silence over them with me."

"Don't get me wrong, I was a good father, always loved my children and their kids and they all love me. But I was never really a born father, could have skipped the whole thing."

The warrior princess returns to the table. "Take your orders now?"

We order. With another round of drinks.

"So you regret not fucking me, eh? I gave you a hardon, when all the while you weren't really interested?" Your eyebrows arch slightly. "You know, I was hot for you, even after I was married, but I eventually learned not to lose any more sleep over it. Over time I got to thinking maybe I never really was in love with you after all. Maybe it was an obsession. Food for thought isn't it."

"Funny, if you had shown me indifference back then I might have fucked your brains out. Ironic, right? And why were you in love with me anyway? Just because we were neighbors when we were kids? Was it just that you didn't outgrow that sort of thing?"

"Maybe. I learned to masturbate fantasizing about you." Your eyes narrow and a bemused smile crosses your lips.

There it is. That thing about you. You never simply flirted with me, you challenged. You talked dirty for a reason. It was always just below the surface. I finish my drink as my cock stirs in my trousers. Fuck. I take a deep breath. Here goes.

"Okay. I thought about you when I jacked off too. That summer after high school I fantasized about meeting you alone in the woods, pulling your shorts down and fucking you against a tree. I wanted your body, but that's all I wanted, nothing more. I got my hardest boners thinking about you, even after I was married. I fantasized it was you sometimes when I was fucking her. So was I obsessed with you? Maybe."

Shit, have I taken her bait? I hope not. Slow down.

We sit in silence, neither of us embarrassed.

You turn your head to look away, beyond the room full of chattering diners. I stare at the napkin-wrapped dinnerware until our second round of drinks arrives.

You turn back to me, and we half-heartedly raise our glasses.

"You remember Debbie in high school, I was jealous of her for dating you our senior year. She told me you had a big cock." Your eyes narrow again.

"She was bullshitting you, she never saw it. It was high school, for fuck's sake."

"We all knew you did. The guys in gym class talked. You and Darrell had the biggest dicks. But Darrell wasn't you."

Damn it. She and Debbie were right. It never made any difference to me, but hearing that I was the subject of high school gossip pisses me off even now.

"And that fueled your pussy-tickling sessions did it?"

"Didn't hurt."

You're actually capable of a chuckle. I've got to stop nibbling the bait.

"Debbie's sessions too," you add.

"Missed opportunity," I mutter, taking another sip of my drink.

Seconds of more silence. Our meals arrive. Why the fuck would a young woman have a boa constrictor tattooed full length around her arm? I used to have long hair and a beard once, but this shit is permanent. Jesus, times do change.

Napkins unfolded on our laps, we eat in polite silence, exchanging a few quick glances. The food's not bad, could be better, but the trendy menu really was over the top. I give up halfway. You follow, folding your napkin neatly back on the table.

Princess notices your gesture and approaches. "Finished already?"

We nod.

"I'll bring the check."

Back to our drinks now.

"Do you remember when I came to your parents' house when you were in college and still living there," you ask. "When I came in your bedroom and you were studying at your desk, and I laid down on your bed?"

Here we go again. "It was hot outside and you were wearing loose shorts. You spread your legs hoping I'd look up your shorts and see you weren't wearing panties. Well surprise, I did. You weren't wearing a bra either and your nipples were hard. You knew I had a new girlfriend. You were being a fucking prick tease, knowing I wasn't going to act on it."

"But you could have. Your parents were across the street. I could have pulled you away from the desk, unzipped you and sucked your cock. See for myself if it was as big as they said. You would have enjoyed it. Bet you had a hardon too."

A subtle sneer crosses your lips. Still trying to challenge me. Fuck, it's working, as it always did. I'm hard again.

"You knew I did. But I wasn't going to stand up and show you. And as soon as you quit your little game and left, I closed the door and jacked off. I remember that day well, so you can chalk that one up as a victory if you like."

"I wasn't pretty like all my friends you dated in college."

"It didn't matter to me that they were pretty. They were boring, I didn't want to fuck any of them. I did want to fuck you though. But I never wanted any more than that from you. So it wasn't going to happen."

"Why not? What was ever wrong with me?"

Okay. It's time. "I don't mean to sound cruel, but you never could be discreet. It's not your nature. You needed to be popular, I don't know, maybe because you thought you weren't as pretty as your friends. You were the class organizer, the club joiner, the yearbook editor, the neighborhood ringleader. You were loud. Nothing was ever a secret to you, and you never kept secrets. Anything between you and me would have been a public spectacle. You wanted to show me off like some sort of conquest."

"I make no apologies for that."

"You don't have to. But that wasn't me. I'm an introvert you thought you could change. I was a challenge. You thought your cockteasing would work. I'd have fucked you anytime you wanted, except the whole world would have known every detail. I never would have given in to that."

"You could have had me that night after your divorce when I cooked dinner for you. I was between marriages, we were both free."

"That's right, I could have. But I knew you were going to ask me to dinner beforehand, three of your friends told me on separate occasions. It was a campaign. You very obviously left the bedside light on and your bedroom door wide open. And you brought out our old high school yearbook to remind me that I signed it for you. Not subtle. Not on my wavelength."

"Then why did you even accept my dinner invitation?"

"You're an old friend. My parents loved you. For God's sake, we used to play kickball in the street when we were kids! I hadn't seen you in a few years. I was never one to offend back then, and I'm sorry if I offend you now. And you came on strong too soon after my divorce. Maybe I should have skipped the dinner invitation."

I actually expect to see your tears at this point, a sign that I've taken this too far. But you stare at me unfazed, just as you did when I first arrived here.

"You're very direct now. And I see now you're not the guy that I fantasized about for so long. The mystery and the romance about you is gone. I'm not a young girl and you're not a young man. It took us a long time to clear all that away, you much quicker than me it seems."

We finish our drinks. The check arrives. I take it. To my surprise you don't protest. Another victory for you?

"I don't need to be popular anymore, those times are done and I'm happy with my life now," you add. "So it seems you'll always be the one that got away. But that's okay, it's over."

You smile, at last. "Just do one thing for me please, from time to time remember when we played kickball in the street. When we were kids and you were new to the neighborhood."

"I do. More often than you know."

You turn and wave to a young woman in blue scrubs who has arrived at the door with a wheelchair. She comes to help you get seated and rolls you away from the table. I decide not to inquire.

"I'm glad we cleared the air," the new you says softly. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye."

"I will. You too."

As you board the van at the curb, I place a C-note on the table for the meal and the tattoo fund, and retrieve my hat and cane. The walk back to my bus stop and the ride home will be a time for reflection.