While my plans for mine and Chloe's little getaway were playing out splendidly, I had made one small mistake. At the end of our afternoon of smoking and making love in the sun, I told her that I had made a reservation for us at a bistro twenty-five minutes away. This proved to be a problem as she, not knowing in advance what we'd be doing, hadn't packed anything worthy of wearing to such an elegant place.
So now I find myself in a department store, standing outside the fitting rooms as she tries on eight different dresses. It's the sort of situation that normally makes me bored and irritable, but I'm keeping it together. There's an appealing make-believe to the whole situation. I drove my mistress in a BMW to take her dress shopping before a night on the town. Sure, the BMW is a rental, I can't really afford any of the dresses she's trying, let alone the dinner we're going to have, but it's fun to act like this is my life.
"Ok!" I hear her call out through the door. "I think I found it!"
Steps out. Find it she did. The dress is a silky dark burgandy that contrasts beautifully with her pale olive skin. And quite a bit of skin there is to contrast with. The dress ends halfway up her thighs and is cut low across her chest, showing her deep cleavage. The spaghetti straps do nothing to cover up her smooth, milky shoulders.
"What do you think?" she asks, nervously.
"It's... wow."
She brightens up.
"Really?"
"Oh, absolutely."
"Well then," she says, turning around, "pop the tag off. Let's check out and get going. Are we going to make the reservation?"
"Just barely, but yes."
Soon we're at the restaurant, some faux-posh place called the Finch and Olive. I've never been here before, but the reviews were all good. It's your standard pretentious bistro- dark walls, low lighting, fake candles on every table. As soon as we enter, a change comes over Chloe. She is suddenly quiet and unsure. But God does she look gorgeous in this light. I notice two different gentlemen glance at her as we make our way through the dining room to our table. I know exactly what they're thinking. They're thinking that I am a lucky, lucky man. And they'd be right.
Once we are seated, Chloe leans forward and says, almost at a whisper, "I've never been to a place like this before."
"Really?"
"The closest I've been is, like, an Applebees."
I laugh on the inside.
"Well, it's just like eating at any other restaurant. You order, you eat. Easy-peasy."
I open my menu and she follows suit.
"Are these little numbers beneath the prices?!" she asks, again at a whisper.
"They are, yes. Don't worry about it. Order what you want. Just, you know, don't expect this treatment often."
The waiter comes over for our drink orders. I ask for an old fashioned.
"And the lady?" he asks, turning to Chloe. She looks like a deer in headlights.
"A glass of the house red, I think." I answer for her.
"Very good." the waiter replies before walking away.
"I'm not twenty-one." she says.
"You certainly look quite mature in that dress and in this setting. If you don't want it-"
"No, no I do! I just don't want to get you in trouble."
"Really? You don't want to get me in trouble?"
"Ha! Fair enough."
"So, I assume they don't serve oysters at Applebees?"
"What are those again? They're not snails, are they? I'm not eating snails."
"Ha. No, that's escargot. Not a fan. Oysters are ocean molluscs."
"Molluscs is not really an appetizing word."
"I'll just order a couple for each of us so you can try it."
This does not go over well. She does not find the sight of the oysters appealing. And when, after some convincing, she finally eats one, she makes a face of pure disgust. Realizing there's no place for her to spit it out, she reluctantly swallows.
"Loved it, huh?" I ask.
"It's like swallowing a load of rancid cum."
I laugh.
"Charming. Well, I'll eat your other one then, I guess, despite that description."
"Please do."
The entree course goes better. She ordered the chicken, and I wonder if that's due to her immature pallet or because it's the cheapest option. Either way, it doesn't matter as she enjoys it immensely.
"So," she says, as she sips her second glass of wine, "If I'm not to expect this treatment often, what am I to expect?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... what are we doing, exactly?"
Oh boy. We're having
this
conversation. I shouldn't have ordered her wine.
"What are we doing at this restaurant?"
"No! I mean, we're having fun. It's... it's amazing. But what does it mean? And how long does it last? My freshman year will be over in a couple months and I'll be home all summer. We've been doing this every few months during my limited time off. What happens when we can see each other all the time?"
"Well, we're never going to be able to see each other all the time. I've got my life to live, you've got yours. Besides, if we spend too much time together, people are bound to notice."
"True."
"If you want to know how this ends or when- I don't know. It will have to end. I hope you don't have an impression that I'd ever-"
"No! No. I wouldn't want that. You know, my parents split when I was three. It was because my father had been having an affair with a woman from work, Deborah. After the divorce, he and Deborah lived together for, like, five years. They were miserable. I can still remember her, she was a grade A bitch. The thought that I would ruin what you and Jen have-"
"That won't happen."
"'Cause I love Jen."
"I know."
"I love Lena.'
"I know."
"I- I love you. But, don't take it like, you know, I
love
you. I mean like the way I have for years, like, like..."
"I get what you mean. You care about me."
"Yes."
"I care about you too. I don't want any of us to get hurt by this. Which is why we'll continue to be cautious. And the moment it seems like it's getting too complicated or it stops being fun, we'll drop it."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Why can't it be?"
