Two for Dinner

I was behind a woman at Andre's when I heard the Matre'd say, "I'm very sorry madam but we are completely booked this evening. There is no chance that a table will open tonight."

He was talking to a woman who had asked for a table for one. She had her back to me; she had a nice, but not great figure. She turned to leave the restaurant and I saw her face. The disappointment was obvious, but her features were quite nice; chestnut hair, high cheek bones, green eyes, breasts pushing against her dress. She was about five feet seven inches tall and was not thin, but not fat either—I imagine that the word is the start of a middle-aged figure. I guessed she was about thirty-seven years old, plus or minus.

On impulse, I stepped into her path. She stopped and looked at me in confusion. I said, "I have a dinner reservation for one. I heard the Matre'd say there was no room for you. If you want, you can share my table?"

She looked into my eyes. Confusion gave way to understanding. She paused and then replied, "I have been trying to eat here for a long time, but it is so pricey and I just now thought my cash drawer was full enough for my next splurge I agree on the condition that you let me pay for my part of the meal and--so there is no misunderstanding--this is just sharing a table at a restaurant. Nothing else is implied. Do you agree?"

I stared into her green eyes and replied, "I often eat dinner at restaurants by myself. Maybe with two of us we might enjoy the dinner more as we test more of the menu items. Your conditions are accepted." I lied and continued, "Of course I will let you pay for your meal if you wish."

I turned to the Matre'd and said, "You have a reservation for Jack Wilson for one person, would you make that two?"

He smiled at the two of us and said, "I no longer have a table for one available, but I have an exceptional table for two. Please follow me."

"Classy move on his part," I thought as I indicated with my hand that my dinner companion should follow the Matre'd to the table as I followed behind her. I wondered, "What made me do that? I am forty-nine years old, divorced for five years, and out of the blue I ask a stranger to share a meal with me."

The answer hit me square in the face—I was lonely, but what had I gotten myself into?

The Matre'd led us to a far corner of the restaurant which was on the top of a sixty floor office building. He pulled the table out to allow my dinner companion to slide into the booth; my chair was facing her. She was looking out through the large windows that framed the wall of the restaurant seeing the lights of the city on a clear night. It was an excellent, private table. I was looking at her and a wall. "Fair enough," I thought.

The silence was uncomfortable so I said, "My name is Jack Wilson. I'm semi-retired at forty-nine and now only take on a consultant contract if there isn't too much travel or time involved. I love good food so I make it a point to eat at one good restaurant every two weeks or so—which is why I am here tonight. I'm glad that you accepted my offer."

My dinner companion responded, "I'm Cindy Collins. I want to thank you for your offer to share your table. I'm embarrassed that I might be a little awkward tonight; I'm not used to sharing meals.

"You seem very young to be retired. Do you miss working?"

"How honest should I be, "I thought, and then decided as I said, "During the stock market boom I was working full time for a very large financial company. I was the vice-president of risk management, and my job was to monitor and evaluate the financial derivative positions that our traders had booked. I was good at it. At the same time—because there was not a conflict of interest—I was able to trade the stock market. I was making a lot of money at the time and there was only my wife and me, so that year I bet a very large sum of money on long term call options. All that meant was that if the stock in the companies I bought went up, I would make a lot of money.

"It was like the gods decided to take their shot at me—the very best and the very worst happened to me in the next twelve months."

Cindy was listening intently and she asked, "Tell me the best first."

I responded, "Well the best was that the stock market went straight up that year—irrational exuberance one person phrased it. And I made a very large amount of money on my call options. I no longer had the need to work if I chose not to.

"But then the worst came and hit me from behind. My wife was seven years younger than me and I guess she was bored with my work hours and intensity. She asked for a divorce to marry a senior manager at the company that employed me. She didn't even want any money since her new companion was many times richer than me; she just wanted to be free from me.

"I was upset; then embarrassed. I told her she was free to go; the next day I quit the company. So now I'm not overly busy, but I'm not bored to death either.

"But Cindy, I'm doing all the talking, which is a terrible fault of mine. Do you live in town and what do you do?"

"Yes," she answered. "I graduated from the state university and moved here immediately after college. My major was art and I beat around the fringe of the art market until I started illustrating children's books; I work out of my studio in my home. It is a niche job—the really good artists can't make enough money in the field and the publisher's don't want junk. I just kind of fit in there over time. My client list has grown large enough that my income is steady and more than enough for me. Now that I can afford it, I enjoy an occasional meal at the five star restaurants." The waiter came to the table for drink orders. I ordered Jack on the rocks while Cindy ordered the house white wine. He left the menus on the table.

Our conversation was a ballet of communication. Neither of us blurted out our past history, but bits and pieces of our personal jigsaw puzzles started to fit. Cindy had never been married. She was 'happy' living by herself.

The meal was extraordinary. We shared appetizers of escargots and Coquille St. Jacques. My sole menuire was prepared perfectly while her lamb chops were equally good. We passed on desert, but settled for an after dinner drink.

The bill arrived. I reached for it and so did she. Our hands touched and she withdrew hers quickly. I could see her blush of embarrassment and gave her cover by saying, "Cindy, I really enjoyed our meal. I'll make you a deal—let me pay for this one, if you agree to pay for the next one two weeks from now."

She blurted, "Where do you want to go?"

I answered, "It's your decision…you are going to pay for it. Let's exchange phone numbers and sometime between now and then, call me and tell me where and when we should meet."

She hesitated and then said, "I agree to the deal. The meal was fun tonight; more fun than I usually have, so why not do it again?"

I paid the bill and we left the restaurant together. On the street we exchanged phone numbers and then there was an awkward pause; Cindy finally shook my hand and thanked me for a wonderful meal. The valet brought her car and she was gone.

'Shook my hand'…what a strange way to end an evening that I had found very enjoyable compared to a solitary meal. What baggage was Cindy carrying?

Cindy called early in the second week. I was gone, but the voice mail was working. She told me the name of an excellent Italian restaurant and said she had made reservations for seven o'clock.

Our second dinner together went even better than the first. She talked more freely, but still guarded, while I seemed to be telling her the story of my life. I let her pay for the meal on the condition that in another two weeks, I paid the next one. She agreed.

Again we parted with a hand shake.

The following week I called Cindy, and she answered the phone. I suggested that my choice of restaurant was an excellent Chinese one that cooked in the Shanghai style. She immediately agreed and said she had wanted to try that restaurant for years. As the phone call was ending I said, "Cindy, instead of taking two cars, why don't I pick you up?"

She hesitated—the pause was more than a few seconds—and finally said, "I think that would be better. Here is my address."

On our 'date' night I stopped the car in front of a simple, ranch style home in a quiet cul-de-sac. I rang the doorbell and it opened almost instantly; Cindy had been waiting for me. She asked, "Would you like a drink before we go?"

I answered, "A glass of wine would be great if that is what you are having."

I walked into her living room. The walls were covered with beautiful drawings of children, and fantasies. I had forgotten that her job was book illustrations for children. She beamed as I complimented her on her artistic abilities.

She asked, "Would you like a tour of my house?"

I agreed and the tour began. It was a simple three bedroom ranch. The master was large and the other two bedrooms were moderate. One was her office and studio and the other was a mini gym with extensive exercise equipment. Cindy blushed when she saw me looking at the equipment and said, "When I bought the house the previous owner just left it. I never got ambitious enough to get rid of it."

We went through a small kitchen to the back area. Her backyard was very private. The patio out the back door led to a surprisingly big swimming pool. The entire yard was surrounded by a tall wooden fence. It was completely private. She had turned the lights on in the pool and the entire effect was very pretty.

We walked back through the house and out the front door. The meal was another winner. Each meal with Cindy had been wonderful. I could tell at the restaurant that Cindy was enjoying herself. Instead of our normal one bottle of wine, we went through two!

I pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine. We sat for a few moments and then I turned to look at her. She was looking at me, but it was a strange, scared look. Finally I saw tears developing. She looked at me and said, "I haven't been fair with you. You have been very nice to me, but I'm not normal; I'm scared of relationships and the thought of touching you terrifies me—I've been that way my entire life. I should have never started having dinners with you."

Thinking quickly I replied, "Cindy, all I wanted was a dinner companion. You have been wonderful. Let's just keep it as it has been. It is your choice for dinner in two weeks. OK?"

She wiped away a tear and said yes. We ended the night by shaking hands at her door.

Two weeks later we were at a famous Thai restaurant. The food was excellent, but the conversation was not as comfortable. Cindy was embarrassed about our driveway conversation two weeks earlier. She finally said, "I owe you a better explanation than I gave you on the driveway.

"Sex always scared me. Maybe it was the way I was brought up, or maybe it was just me. I thought things would be different when I went to college. I would meet Mr. Wonderful and my hang-ups would disappear as we lived happily ever after.

"In the real world you don't lose your problems by running away from them. I tried, but the dates were infrequent and I probably wasn't very good company. At some point I was determined to break through my inhibitions and went to a fraternity party. I drank too much, but I wasn't a falling down drunk. When he asked me to go to his room, I knew what was going to happen; I wanted it to happen.

"It was a disaster. Ten minutes in the room and he was gone. I was naked and my body hurt. I was full of a man's sperm and I didn't even know his name. It was so degrading.

"I tried it one more time six months later. It was worse than the first time.

"So now you know my secret. I'm so embarrassed to tell you, but it isn't fair not to tell you. Will you forgive me?"

The look on her face was painful to see. She was in anguish over her confession and couldn't look at me. I finally reached and took her hand and said, "Cindy, look at me."

Her eyes finally lifted to mine and I continued, "You never had love and I had love and was found wanting. Who should feel the worst? Life sometimes doesn't work out on plan. My consultant contracts that I take are not for the money; they take some of the loneliness out of my life. Our meals have been wonderful for me. I don't want anything more than what you want…so don't be embarrassed and don't stop our dinners because of ancient history."

She wiped a tear from her eye and then was quiet. Finally, in an effort to make conversation Cindy asked, "How do you stay so fit and skinny eating at the nice restaurants?"

I replied, "I went to a gym five years ago and met a personal trainer who was assigned to me when I became a member. He has been a great help to me; showing me how to do the right exercises so that I don't turn into blubber. I go to the gym three times a week and I feel really good after each workout.

Cindy asked, "Do they have women personal trainers?"

I answered, "Of course, this is a huge business and women outnumber the men at many of these gyms. Would you like me to take you there and see it?"

The silence lasted for twenty seconds or longer and finally Cindy said, "I would like to see the place and maybe talk to a personal trainer. I used to walk a lot, but now I get practically no exercise. My energy level gets low sometimes; maybe joining a gym would help.

I told Cindy to wear some workout clothes for the first visit and I would arrange the appointment. I picked up Cindy the following Monday and we drove to the gym. She was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants with gym shoes.

I had called my personal trainer and explained the situation. He assured me that they would be ready for Cindy. We parked and walked into the gym. My trainer came over and introduced himself to Cindy. Then he said, "If you are interested, I can have one of our personal trainers give you a tour. Her name is Kim"

Cindy nodded yes and in a few minutes a female walked over and introduced herself. Kim was five feet six inches tall with black hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a sports bra and shorts that, while not ultra tight was not loose. Her body was a picture of muscle and tone. Any woman would die for that kind of body.

Kim said, "Why don't you guys disappear while I show Cindy what we offer."

They disappeared for over an hour. My workout was complete and I was relaxing. I looked up and Cindy was standing in front of me. She said, "I joined. Kim was great. She took me into the women's locker room and had me down to my bra and panties. She checked me out—measured my body fat, my weight versus my size—I'm twelve pounds overweight--my upper body strength versus the average female. She really knows what she is doing. The plan is for me to come to the gym three times a week to exercise specific body muscles. Since I have the exercise equipment at the house, Kim gave me alternative exercises for other muscle groups for the off days."

And so it started; I had not seen Cindy this excited since I had met her. Three times a week I picked up Cindy and we went to the gym and worked out. We still had our every other week 'date.'

The first week she went to the gym she wore her sweats. The second week she was dressed like Kim. I admired her for it. The extra twelve pounds could be seen in her stomach and sides. For her to go to a sports bra knowing she wasn't in perfect shape was a sign of confidence…or maybe happiness.

After about two months at the gym I asked Cindy if I could come over to her house and work on some specific exercises on her equipment. She quickly agreed.

I arrived the next day. The doorbell went unanswered so I went to the back and through the kitchen. Cindy was in the exercise room. She hadn't heard me and I watched her silently as she went through her routine. She was in her sports bra and shorts. She finished her exercise and spotted me. She grinned and said, "Did you ring the bell. I didn't hear it…I have become a fanatic on exercise and just forget everything else."

I came over two days later for exercise and again quietly observed Cindy doing her exercises. I looked at her. Where once there was a slightly overweight, middle aged female, I now saw the beginning of a muscle toned, beautiful woman. There were no love handles. Her body shape was starting to form, her ass was tight and small, and her back and shoulders were already as sexy as a back and shoulders could be. She really had become an exercise fanatic and it was showing.

I made a noise and entered the exercise room. She nodded at me and continued to work out. When we were through I suggested we cool off with a swim.

I had brought my suit at her suggestion. I showered in her outdoor shower and then dove in the pool. She came out I few minutes later in a modest bikini. She joined me in the pool. After a few laps and then just standing in the water relaxing we got out and sat on her pool chairs. I said, "My skin is pasty white. I need a tan…do you mind if we make this our routine after your exercise and a little swimming?"

Cindy said, "My skin is whiter than yours. A tan will be good for both of us."

The routine set in. Three times a week at the gym and three or four times a week at Cindy's. I had bought some air mattresses and we covered them with terry cloth as we lay in the sun working on our tans.

A few weeks later we were at the pool; Cindy was lying on her stomach. I said, "Cindy, your tan is coming along perfect, but the tan lines are going to be obvious. Why don't you let me unhook your top and put sun tan lotion on your back and legs?"

The silence was deafening. Finally she said, "You can if you want, but nothing more…please."

I took the lotion and rubbed it into her shoulders. When I got to the straps of her bikini top, I unhooked it. I felt her body tense, but then I rubbed the lotion into her and she finally relaxed. I continued down her body.

Two days later I repeated the process. I could tell she loved the feeling of the lotion being rubbed into her back and legs, and this time I took even longer to cover her everywhere. When I was done I joked, "Ok, roll over."

She said, "Jack, be serious."

Several weeks later I finished her back and ended with my standard joke, "Ok, roll over."

This time she did. I was stunned. Not only that she was lying face up with her naked breasts open to my gaze, but now I saw how beautiful her body had become. The arms were toned; her breasts were beautiful with nipples bigger than I had guessed. Her stomach muscles were beautiful. Any strain on her stomach—even lifting her head—and the muscles rippled through her stomach. Her breasts and her tight, flat stomach was the most sensual picture I had seen in many years. I could feel an erection beginning.

Her eyes remained closed. No words were spoken. I put lotion on my hands and started at her shoulders and then down each arm. I returned to her shoulders and put more lotion in my hands and started down her chest, and then her breasts and nipples. I did not linger there, nor did I pass too quickly over them. I knew that while I had been ready for months, her sexual clock was ticking much slower than mine. I could not rush this. I continued to her stomach and then, shifting my body around, I started at her hips and down each leg. She kept her legs together. When I was done she opened her eyes and looked at me. She said, "Thank you."

The next time was the same, but I lingered longer on her breasts. Her nipples became hard. When I went lower, her legs were slightly apart and more new skin was touched. A few more times and her legs opened to me as I teased her inner thighs with the massage of lotion. Each time her eyes remained closed until I was done and each time I heard, "Thank you."