The maître d' lifted his gaze from the reservation book as I approached the stand. The clicking of my glossy red heels seemed muted on the polished wood as I crossed the dimly lit lobby of the swanky restaurant. I watched his eyes sweep analytically over me, interpreting my appearance to calibrate the tone of his reception.
"Good evening, miss..." He greeted me with a posture of pained tolerance. Apparently, something about my grey sweater dress -- the hem at my mid-thigh, the body-hugging cable knit across the brimming bodice, or the playful bare shoulders? -- led the man to presume that I might prefer another restaurant. 'Maybe I should flash the designer tag...' I silently groused. 'Or better yet, tell him where I went to law school...' my mind sneered before I shushed my belligerent inner monologue. I wasn't here to pick fights with restaurant hosts.
"Yes, hello. I believe my party has been seated already." I replied, bending my cherry-red lips into the coldly patient smile I usually reserved for misbehaving clients or boyfriends. The sarcasm dripped from his disbelieving stare. "I'm joining the party from Colossal Corporation." I continued, noting how the man's eyes widened and his shoulders straightened in alarmed realization of his miscalculation.
"Ah, yes, of course!" He chirped obediently, extending an arm past the entry and towards the softly lit room of dining guests. "Please, right this way, Madame!" He promptly spun on his heels and led me into the dining room. I surveyed the tables filled with well-dressed diners as I passed through the room. Scanning ahead of my scurrying escort, I spotted the table where John and his prospective customers were seated.
Spending my Friday night helping with someone else's job wasn't my favorite use of time, but these dinners were typically pleasant affairs and at least I'd get an expensive meal on the company tab. I had played some semblance of this role before; the charming hostess, smoothing the coarse edges of John's thirsty business development efforts. If the clients brought significant others, I would occupy them with friendly banter while business was conducted across the table. On nights like tonight, when John's guests were limited to interested parties, my role shifted to a dual girlfriend/consultant function, more overtly assisting John's sales efforts.
All week, John had been even more agitated than usual ahead of tonight's meeting. I knew that these prospects were a huge account, and I also understood that John was feeling immense pressure from the company to land this chunk of new business. This morning I'd treated him to our customary "day of meeting blowjob" to relax him, but even the soothing effects of my skilled mouth had worn off by the time he left for the office. Combing my fingers through the ends of my wavy red hair, I thought 'Well, I'll do whatever he needs tonight. I'll laugh at their bad jokes, compliment their ties, wax poetically of John's work ethic; whatever he needs.'
The host pulled out a chair from the table ahead of me, and I saw John standing beside my spot as I approached. His anxious smile was more of a grimace and the cocktail glass before him was already empty; things might be off to an uncertain start, I gathered. Across the table, John's dinner guests stood in greeting. The three large black men were decked out in exquisitely tailored suits and eager, friendly smiles.
"You must be Sarah." The man closest to me extended his hand. "I'm Leyton." We shook, followed by introductions to Clyde and Gabriel who each leaned over the table in turn to take my hand. As we sat, Leyton pushed in my chair behind me, observing silently that John had sat and forgotten to do so.
The waiter appeared, reading the specials before taking more drink orders. John sat mute for a moment before Leyton took up the mantle for the table, ordering two bottles of expensive red zinfandel for our party. "You'll love it, trust me." He beamed, leaning toward me and brushing my forearm with his fingertips as he spoke. I blushed self-consciously as goosebumps raised on my arm at his touch.
On my other side, John still seemed to be fighting his own nerves as he stammered through an explanation to Clyde and Gabriel of the logistical advantages of his proposed partnership. The men listened patiently, but their expressions betrayed that so far, they had more questions than enthusiasm about the arrangement. I could tell I was going to have to lend more active assistance tonight to avoid calamity.
"That's a great point, John," I broke in. My boyfriend seemed relieved to be interrupted. "And with Colossal's integrated pre-certification system, certificate of origin is as simple as ticking a box for clearance. Downtime to release and breakbulk is cut by as much as half using their proprietary program." The three men raised their eyebrows, intrigued as I explained the benefits of import and distribution logistics under the company's system.
"So, do you also work for Colossal?" Gabriel asked. The waiter arrived, pouring a taste for Leyton. He nodded in satisfaction and instructed that my glass should be filled first.
"No, not at all" I responded, watching as the waiter poured a generous amount of wine into the glass in front of me. I reflected silently how I had previously acted on behalf of the company at a Christmas charity event. Evaluating the success of my involvement there depended on perspective, but I recalled that the representatives of the charity had walked away from our transaction very satisfied.
Blushing at the ribald memory, raising my napkin to my lips to cover the rising color in my face as I forced my focus back to my explanation and helping John. "I work for an unaffiliated law firm. John is just so incredibly knowledgeable about this subject that I've learned just by hearing him talk about it." I laughed as I squeezed John's thigh under the table, encouraging him to break his anxious stupor and retake the lead in the discussion.
John took my prompt, seeming to regain his poise as he expanded on my short explanation. Smiling, I sipped my wine in satisfaction that my confidence boost had worked. I took another sip and read the menu as the four men discussed details of how the collaboration would work.
"You are very impressive." Leyton leaned into our side conversation. His hand rested lightly on my shoulder, and I felt another flurry of butterflies tickling my stomach. "I can see why John brought you tonight..." he added. As I watched his eyes dance away from my face, I wasn't certain if he was referring to my knowledge of my boyfriend's business, or the way the braided pattern of my dress strained over my swollen D-cups.
I smiled warmly in return. "Then I guess I earned my sea bass tonight." I raised the glass to my lips, winking as I sipped. Leyton nodded in agreement, refilling my wine as soon as I set the glass on the table before he rejoined the business discussion.
The waiter returned, taking dinner orders for the table, and bringing more bottles of wine to replace the two our party had ambitiously emptied. After the earlier sluggish discussion, it seemed that the three prospective customers were now enthralled in John's descriptions of his company's operations and the myriad benefits it had to offer them. I withdrew to a passive observer's role, smiling, watching, and drinking as the men talked. As more wine was drunk, I thought that I caught the clients' eyes more frequently straying across the table to the curvy display of distended wool hovering above my place setting.
As the entrees arrived, a look of fresh worry sprang to John's face. His concerned eyes met mine for a moment as he reached into the pocket inside his coat and pulled out his vibrating phone. I mouthed 'What the fuck?' at him as he answered the call. He held up a pleading finger to me and excused himself from the table. Four pairs of perplexed eyes followed John's retreating form then three of those sets turned to me, seeking explanation.
"That uh... it must be important." I muttered, casting an irritated glance past the maître d' stand where John had exited the restaurant. "I'm sure he'll be back in a minute." An uneasy silence settled over the table as we picked uncertainly at our meals.
Ten minutes later, John reappeared wearing a haunted expression. He sat, then leaned close to my side until his lips almost touched my ear. "That was the office. There's been a massive data breach. They're calling all hands to handle this, so I've gotta go..." My jaw dropped in disbelief. Was he seriously about to abandon me in the middle of his sales dinner?!
John got up from his seat. With an apologetic grimace, he informed his would-be business partners that he had to leave to attend to a "small but urgent management matter" which he assured them was "really nothing to worry about". The other men appeared unconvinced and seemed even less so when their gaze shifted to my temper flushed face.
Stooping, John whispered into my ear again. "Look, here's my card. Just keep them entertained -- whatever they want -- and pay. I'll call you later if I can." He hurriedly kissed my temple, waving goodbye to the party as I again mouthed 'What the fuck?' at his fleeing back.
I turned back to the table and found those three sets of eyes once more fixated on me. Staring at the napkin in my lap, I took three deep breaths to compose myself before I addressed them. "Well... that just illustrates the dedication that John brings to his work..." I gritted my teeth in an unconvincing smile. The three nodded in insincere agreement; none of us was anything but mystified by John's abrupt exit.
My hand tightened around the rounded plastic corners as I remembered the card John had desperately thrust at me. My jaw unclenched and my rage-tightened lips relaxed into a mischievous smirk. "I know that this isn't the evening that you gentlemen anticipated..." I held up the platinum credit card. "But it doesn't have to end on a sour note. Who wants dessert? Or maybe some champagne?" Clyde and Gabriel broke into applause while Leyton placed his hand on my shoulder -- more familiarly this time -- in approval. I blushed at the warm feel of his flesh against mine.
Beaming in my newfound zeal for misappropriation, I raised my hand and flagged down the waiter.
Hours later, the staff had cleared every table in the room, save one. Our table, on the other hand, was strewn with empty black bottles. While we pickled ourselves in Colossal-funded champagne, the three men's chairs had gravitated tightly around my own as we spoke. Beneath the table, Leyton's hand sat intimately on my left knee; Clyde's fingers gently traced a figure-eight on the back of my neck. The booze mixed with the tender attention in a fizzy restlessness in my stomach. My head swam with the pleasant, mostly-innocent flirting; I was confident the deal had been salvaged.
