Ted and I entered the restaurant at 7:45. The reservation was for 7:30. I was still fuming with anger as we walked through the weathered wood door. Our fight was the reason that we were late. Ted was defending his position why he should take a trip with his friends while I, his wife, stay at home. This time, the trip was not a business trip, but just a pleasure cruise with “the boys”. We had been married for two years and I felt that at this point he had to take my feelings more seriously.
The thin-waisted hostess seated us at a table with a single elegant candle, and within a minute, the waiter was there, asking if he could get us drinks. I looked down at my hands, still swimming in a pool of hurt, but saw without looking that the waiter lit the candle. Ted ordered a scotch and then looked at me expectantly, as if I was inappropriately pouting. That just made me angrier. I turned to the waiter and said, “I’d like a…” but for a second I lost my train of thought because I caught the waiter’s eyes. He was beautiful. The restaurant was Argentinean and he was a perfect cut, lean, dark, with black hair and an olive complexion hinting at an Italian heritage. As a contrast to his dark sculpted form and black suit, his eyes were brilliant green, looking into mine without hesitation.
It is hard to know the exact moment when you are attracted to someone, but it is a moment. The firings of neurons, the chemical changes, all the biological processes pulse in a complex partnership, but it is a moment nonetheless. Afterwards you can deny it, you can convince yourself that it did not happen, and you can think your way out of your attraction, but that instant of attraction still was.
I parted my lips to answer, then looked away in shame for what I felt, blushing. Then I looked at him again, resolved to answer confidently. “I’ll have a glass of house red wine,” I said. From the way that he looked at me, I knew that he knew. He felt my attraction like he felt heat; it was a dance he knew well.
“We have a Malbec,” he answered with an accent, “Would that be alright?”
“Yes,” I answered, “That would be wonderful.” My tone belied my attempt to seem indifferent.
“I will have that for you… right away,” he said, with “you” extended through a slow pause. Quick then slow and then quick again.
He walked off and left me alone with Ted who had not noticed our first subtle steps in flirtation and looked at me across the table frustrated. I looked back at him, but in that moment, all of the hurt and insecurity, all of my feelings of being unwanted and unimportant, lifted. I saw us as two people, two separate people, with different needs. That moment I forgot why I depended on Ted’s acceptance, why I needed to be essential to him. I simply forgot.
I smiled at him but saw him scowl, thinking that it was just another weapon in our fight. So I said, “You know honey, don’t worry about it. Go on your cruise with your friends. It’s alright.”
“What is that, sarcasm?” he asked angrily, “This is hard enough without your goddamn sarcasm. Are you just trying to upset me now?” He was deeply agitated.
“No Ted, I mean it,” I said, “You can go. I’ve thought it over. We are separate people, we have separate desires. It is what you want and I support it.”
I said this with such candor that he knew I was being honest.
“Just like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, “Just like that.”
He looked at me without saying anything, unsure of what to say. I could see in his eyes that he couldn’t believe it, did not understand how this woman, whom he thought he knew so well, could respond so unpredictably. It meant that maybe he didn’t know me quite as well as he thought he did.
“Thank you Angela,” he said and took a sip of water. In the background, I heard the music of the bandoleon.
The waiter came back with our drinks. He placed the scotch in front of Ted first, carefully, then he lowered the glass of wine in front of me, slowing down in the last few milliseconds, so that it stepped onto the lace tablecloth with grace. He turned his head to me then and gave a hint at a smile. Standing straight up, he took out two hand written menus from under his left arm, and put each one in our hands starting first with Ted.
“That’s okay, we know what we want don’t we?” said Ted.
“Yes,” I answered, “I know what I want.” I looked straight at the waiter who kept his head turned to Ted but moved his eyes to me for a second and again showed me the suggestion of a smile.
“We’ll have the Lomo for two on the grill,” said Ted.
“A very good choice sir,” answered the waiter, “I will have the bread and salads out in a minute.”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “But can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”
“Certainly maam, it is around the corner behind the kitchen. If you follow me, I will show you,” answered the waiter.
“Oh, thank you so much. I’ll be back in a moment,” I announced to Ted.
“Sure,” he said contentedly sipping on his scotch. He was just realizing that he was going to have his trip with no argument from me, rejoicing inside.
I stood up and smoothed my dress down. Then I picked up my clutch and without a second look followed the waiter toward the kitchen and then into a hallway that curved around the kitchen. He led me as the hallway ended and we came to a T intersection. On the right was a door that said ‘Señoras’ and on the left was a door that said ‘Hombres’. He went left and I followed, past the door, and to another door that said ‘employees’. My heart was beating fast. He did not look back but I knew that he knew I was there. He opened the door, looked down the hallway past me, and then, satisfied, held the door open for me to walk through.
Inside was a small office with a desk and many shelves, probably for someone who did the books for the restaurant. He walked in with me and closed the door behind us. With the door closed, the only light in the room came from a window on the wall opposite the door. Through that window was the moon.
He did not say a word but pressed himself up against me from behind. He pressed me hard so that my breasts were right up against the wall. My eyes had not yet adjusted and I felt fear there in that small space, in the darkness, the pressure of a strange man hot against my back. My breathing sped up, not from passion, but in panic.
He raised his hands and started to rub my shoulders, his left hand working its way slowly down my arm until he took my hand in his. He held it and squeezed it gently, reassuringly, touching my neck tenderly with the fingers of his other hand. I appreciated his softness, his slowness, caressing me in my nervousness. I appreciated the comfort that he provided when I so needed it, even though it was he who caused my anxiety. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was kissing the side of my neck, holding me by the waist with both hands. I pressed myself against him and let him take me in his arms, let go to his lead.
His hands came around and cupped my breasts as his mouth opened over the back of my neck. I shivered and felt the pulsing between my legs, the feeling of need flowing through me. He moved his hands down from my breasts and laid them on my belly, grabbing my dress and pulling it up with rolling motions of his wrists. He pulled it up until it was at my waist and then moved his right hand down under the band of my silk panties very slowly walking his gentle fingers down my shaven mound.
He made me wait, and the anticipation sent a wave of desire through my sex, the wetness covering me. With his left hand, I felt him start to undo his pants as his right went to my clitoris and stroked it with the same gentle motion. I needed him then, I was ready, there was no need for anything more. I felt his cock come out and press against the flesh of my butt, a hot hard organ with a need of its own.
He spread my legs a little with his left hand, pulling my butt up, and then pushed my panties to the side exposing my swollen lips to him while still rubbing with his right hand. I stuck it out for him, to take and use, to fuck me like he wanted to. Then I felt the head of his cock enter me, slowly parting me and I let out a breath. He began to pump into me, slowly at first but then with more force, always maintaining the gentle rubbing of my clit with his other hand. He fucked me like this for some minutes bringing me closer and closer as my breathing got faster. Then I let out a hushed cry of “Yes!” as I felt the start of an orgasm. He did not stop but continued his thrusting letting me have the wave after wave of pleasure until at once I felt him clench and shoot a hot stream deep inside. He collapsed against my back, and I against the wall, as he kissed my neck whispering in Spanish, words that I did not understand.
For a moment, it was only us in the light of the moon, until he pulled away from me and I heard the rustling of clothes being put back on. I straightened out my dress, fixed my hair, and looked at him. He nodded and opened the door for me to walk out, back to my table and back to my life.
I walked back to the table and sat quietly. The candle had burned down a little and the rivulets of wax flowed down its side, unhurriedly, like a slow wound. Ted was done with his scotch and looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “What took so long?” he asked.
“You know, just woman stuff,” I answered. We sat there waiting a few minutes without speaking as I drank my wine. In a few more minutes, the waiter came by again with the salads and bread.
“Can I get you another scotch sir?” he asked Ted who nodded in the affirmative.
“And for you ma’am?” he asked me politely.
“I’ll have one just like before,” I answered smiling faintly.
“A very good choice,” he said, “Your Lomo will be out in several minutes.” Then he looked at me and turned his head, letting his body follow, making his steps back to the kitchen, slowly and then quicker.
I got up, “Sorry Ted,” I said, “I have to… well, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Fine,” he called out, as I was walking away, “Just don’t let it be too long.”
I looked at the candle and wondered how much further it would burn before my return.
