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Seated in the coziest far corner of the retaurant, I place the orders.
The idle June light slants in at a 60Kangle.
Marking everything shadowy.
She's licking her lips.
Just like a girl stalking her prey.
Her nails perfectly manicured, very much a female of the species.
We attack our food together like a pair of fowl.
She makes little slurping noises.
The dishes, laid out like corpses, come back to life as we eat them.
I"m eating sausage.
She's eating green beans.
And then I sample the sauerkraut.
While she intently daubs her Chicken Kiev with ketchup.
She opens her mouth.
"Like the house?"
"The previous tenant was a painter?"
"Dunno."
"Lots of paint marks.?
"Mmm?"
"Nothing."
"That was your basic come-on property. Just keep that in mind."
Libidinous eyes.
Legs parted, skirt pulled taut.
Ketchup red around her mouth, a ploy.
"Listen,at the next house there's a bed."
I crack a smile.
Meaning, I suppose, I'm game.
Right on cue, she smiles back.
Uh-huh.
She's game for sure.
Licks her lips.
I picture an unfurnished wood-floored room in full June sun and me groveling before her.
Almost nostalgic, that scene.
"What sort of bed?"
"No covers, but it's a real bed. The springs squeak a bit, that's all."
"You tested it?"
"Course not."
Coffee arrives.
She drinks hers.
For a fraction of a second I feel as if I'd blanked out.