So my husband has this thing... a fetish I guess you'd call it. He told me about it when we were dating and we did it a couple times and then... well, you know... time... kids... jobs... excuses.
Tonight we were celebrating being empty-nesters. Well, trying to get our mind off of missing the twins so much now that they were off at college. I made myself a little plan...
Marcelo's is one of the finer restaurants in our area. Surprisingly, this native Italian made some of the best Korean food we'd tasted. And he was never overrun by people (probably because half turned around once they realized it wasn't an Italian place).
So we could enjoy our dinner and our drinks with some relative peace. I'd asked for one of the corner booth tables that was hidden a bit by some tall potted plants. A few tables could see into our booth and the waitresses as they left the pass through with hot plates. But mostly we had some privacy.
We'd skipped dessert (new pledge to get in shape) and I could tell my husband was getting ready to call for the check.
"Don't be in a rush. Let me go to the ladies. I'll be right back."