AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story owes a great debt to "Six Times a Day" and its author, spacer_x, along with many others.
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The next morning passed unremarkably. Allie seemed satisfied with Josh's story of a wild night out with some new friends from college. Drinking -- but no driving, of course. She'd have killed him for that, he knew. But, god, he wondered, what would she say if she knew what really happened.
Fresh off the loss of his virginity, he had a bounce in his step all weekend. Allie commented on it a number of times, but he said it was nothing more than a post-birthday high. "Don't worry, mom," he said. "Monday's gloom will be here for you know it. We'll just have to brave this cheeriness until it passes."
She smiled at him and dropped it. He had a little money left over from the other night and insisted on taking Allie to lunch on Saturday. She knew he didn't have much, so she insisted on a local pizza joint and kidded about his luck in finding such a cheap date.
The rest of the weekend, Josh shuffled around the house waiting for a line of contact from Lana. Before he'd left the Kit Kat Club she'd jotted down his email and cell number. But she'd never said when she might call. By Sunday night he was feeling a little apprehensive about the silence, but as Monday, Tuesday, then Wednesday came and went, he was practically crawling up the wall. Had she forgotten, he asked himself for the millionth time. Had she been lying to him? The whole thing had felt like a dream -- the hazy bar, the dim lighting, the beautiful women and complex codes of behavior. He actually began to wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing.
It was close to midnight on Wednesday night when his phone set off a little ping sound. He was lying in bed reading a beat-up, old novel and was nearly asleep. He shot up and grabbed his phone to find a text message:
Dinner tomorrow at The Ship House Restaurant. 7:30. Dress cute. --L
His heart was pounding a little. Thank god, he thought, at least she's real. He stood up and went to the closet and stared into it for a solid minute, completely befuddled.
"Dress... cute?" This could be a long night.
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Josh stepped into the restaurant precisely at 7:30, though only because he'd gotten to the parking lot over forty five minutes beforehand, where he'd sat and waited, drumming his fingers and straightening his tie every few moments.
As soon as he entered he spotted Lana, sitting at the bar. One long, smooth leg crossed the other, both on display in her short black skirt. She was flanked on both sides by groups of middle-aged men who seemed to be vying for her attention, or alternately, peeking down at her deep cleavage. One of them was telling a boisterous story, his arms flailing, while two others were trying to cut in with their stories of their own. Josh suddenly felt a sinking in his stomach and almost started to turn back towards the door when Lana's voice rang out.
"Josh! There you are." She stood up, smoothed her skirt, and sauntered across the bar towards him. The men sighed and protested, one even shouting, "Who's the kid?" but she paid them no mind.
"Hello," she said in her huskiest voice, "don't you look nice. Right on time, too. I like it." She slid an arm through his and, a moment later, the maître d' led them to a back table.
"Who were they?" Josh asked, having a hard time keeping the jealousy out of his voice.
"Idiot man children," she said. "Exactly what they looked like."
"Oh," he muttered, fiddling with his water glass.
"No," Lana said sharply. "I won't have it. Josh, look at them. Go on, look." He turned back to the bar. "Tell me what you see."
There were four of them in all, watching a hockey game on TV. They were definitely split into two pairs, with a wide berth between all of them. Two were wearing the home team's hats, while one of the others had a t-shirt with the other team's logo. Josh barely followed sports so he didn't know how to read the situation exactly. "I don't know. Guys, I guess."
"You guessed right. What else do you see?"
He squinted, but wasn't sure what exactly to look for.
"What about their behavior? Are they courteous?" Just as she said it, the two men in the home team hats erupted in cheers, then pointed ugly, defiant fingers at the other two, laughing raucously.
"No," he admitted, "not really."
"Are they well-dressed?"
"No, definitely not."
"No, not half so well as you. And let me tell you what else I see. They're drinking cheap beer because they care more about getting drunk than enjoying the drink itself. They're sitting farther apart than necessary in order to emphasize their heterosexuality, but it just makes them look insecure. One of them pulled off his wedding ring while talking to me, thinking I wouldn't notice, which tells me he's untrustworthy. His friend was single but hadn't showered or shaved today. They'll be lucky if they can get the bartender to pour them a drink. They never had a chance with me."
The last words were whispered in his ear and Josh whipped around to find that Lana had pulled up close to him.
"Josh, I'm her with you. You're my date." She slid a hand up his thigh. "Learn to treat a woman right and she's putty in your hands."
Lana slid back to her seat and began perusing the menu, a little smile on her face. Josh felt his shoulders drop and his breathing come easy again.
The dinner went smoothly after that. More than smoothly, in fact. Josh was surprised to find that conversation came easy. They laughed a lot and shared food from each other's plates. Lana regaled him with tales of her life. She didn't shy away from the bawdy stories, but left enough to the imagination that she came off as adventurous and sophisticated rather than cheap and tawdry. She seemed genuinely interesting in hearing about Josh's upbringing, asking lots of questions about his family and friends, school and his new job.
As desert came around, Lana continued the line of inquiry about his family. "What does your mother -- Allie, right?¬.." Josh nodded. "What does Allie for a living?"
"She's an assistant for this architect. It's alright, I think. She never really complains about her job."
"What firm is she at," she asked. "One of my husbands was an architect."
"Weber and Pierce. The first guy, Weber, that's her boss."
"Architects can be intense. Very focused, Very demanding. She must be tired when she comes home."
"Yeah, she is."
"Do you ever do something nice for her, like cook dinner? Give her a foot massage?"
Josh blushed. "No, no nothing like that. I suppose I should cook dinner once in a while. But I can't give her a -- you know -- a massage."
"Why not?" Lana asked. "You're the man of the house, but she's pulling in all the dough. She raised you, put a roof over your head. The least you could do is make her feel special. Besides a foot massage doesn't have to be erotic. I mean, it can be." Her eyes twinkled, "but it doesn't have to be. Think about it."
"I'll think about." He blushed more deeply and took a long gulp of water.
She paused to eat a bit more desert, then looked up at him. "You didn't tell me that I looked nice tonight."
"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry. But you do. Really. You look beautiful."
"Thank you," she said demurely. "You should always compliment your date at the beginning of the evening. She probably spent a lot of time trying to look nice for you."
