Abbie and Jake finish eating

The conversation evolved away from their new friends-slash-complete-strangers Chris and Michelle, wandered through disjointed comments about people from work, idle talk of hobbies, and soon enough, dinner was done. Throughout most of it, Abbie continued teasing Jake with her foot, though from time to time she relaxed and just rested in place. Jake periodically moved a hand under the table to stroke her ankle or her toes. By the end of the meal, Abbie gently rubbed foot along the inside of Jake's leg, down to the floor, and pulled her leg back toward herself.

"Mm," murmured Jake, expressing disappointment.

"Unless you thought I was going to get you off right here under the table -- did you?" Abbie paused mid-thought to check in with Jake.

"Umm ..." he started.

"Careful what you ask me!" said Abbie with an impish grin.

"No, I guess I wasn't expecting anything here at the table." Jake dabbed his face with his napkin, and put it next to his plate. "But interesting to think about what I might have asked."

"Maybe tomorrow night," suggested Abbie, teasing the idea that she had more in store for Jake.

The waiter came by, offered a dessert menu (which both Jake and Abbie declined), exchanged quick words about the check, and slipped away.

"That was one tasty steak," Abbie said, looking down at her empty plate. "I told you I like a good steak, and that was a fucking good steak."

Jake laughed. "It was excellent. Can you cook? I wish I knew how to cook. I'd love to make a steak like this."

"Actually, I can cook! And I'm not just saying yes -- I actually can."

"Will you teach me?"

Abbie smiled. "Yes." She sipped her water. "I've heard the best steaks are done with a sous vide, but I don't have one. So I use a cast iron skillet. The secret --"

Jake stopped her. "I didn't mean to teach me here. I meant ... well, I don't know. Maybe I meant to, like, be in a kitchen or something, and teach me there."

Abbie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, like a real lesson?"

"Yeah. Or maybe I didn't think it through."

Abbie teased a bit. "Or maybe you did. For a kitchen lesson, you'd have to come to my house. Or I'd have to go to yours."

Jake blushed a little. "I'm pretty sure I don't have any of the proper equipment. My home cooking is mostly dedicated to frozen pizzas and peanut butter sandwiches."

"Oh, Jake, Jake, Jake," said Abbie, playfully chastising him. "So much you need to learn."

The waiter returned with a receipt for Jake to sign (which he did), and then departed quietly.