Make matters less formal.

I reached the lobby before Marilyn, but she didn’t keep me waiting long. She seemed lighter and more alive in herself than I’d seen her in a while, which was a good sign. It wasn’t until I hung my jacket up in Max’s that I realized why- she’d left her jacket behind, had come in only her bright pink tee-shirt, and let her hair down. I was quietly impressed- Marilyn was clearly more relaxed around me, and that could only be good. In fact, if she did go back to her old wardrobe, who was I to complain? A little bit of eye-candy around the office would keep me going until I got something more substantial.

Throughout the lunch, I kept the conversation casual, carefully avoiding work topics, but after the waitress returned with our entrées, Marilyn began smirking in a very smug manner. I asked her why.

“ I think our waitress has a thing for you.” I nearly choked on my salad- the girl in question was probably in her late teens.

“ No, I don’t think…”, I started, but Marilyn ran me over. “ You saw down her shirt when she dropped our food off, am I right?” I admitted I had. “That wasn’t accidental. Look.” She pointed with her fork as the same waitress rigidly served a bowl of soup to a middle-aged woman at the other end of the room, without bending an inch. Running out of arguments, I clammed up, and became aware of my cheeks reddening.

Sensing victory, Marilyn took on a lecturing tone. “ See, when a woman’s looking for a man, she has to make it obvious that she’s looking. You know, by the way she acts, the things she says…”

“…what she wears…”, I interjected. Marilyn nodded. I sensed an opening, and leaned forward as I asked,

“ Who were you trying to interest, Marilyn?”

It was Marilyn’s turn to blush. She didn’t answer, and in truth I didn’t know what she wasn’t saying, but suddenly, the way was clear.