Table for Two

“Is it okay to come in yet?” Heather asks through the gap of her cracked open bedroom door. I’d heard her moving back and forth between the bedroom and the washroom as I cooked but was careful not to peek. I understood how important it was for a lady to make an impression on a first date.

“One second.” I say. Grabbing the dish towel which hung from the oven handle I fold it over my left forearm to carry it like a waiter at some fancy restaurant then hurry to stand at attention at the edge of the hallway. “Madame.” I say in a posh tone. “You’re table is available now.”

I hear a giggle and then the door separating us is opened to reveal…a goddess!

Her silky brown hair, it’s natural waviness somehow more prominent, was pulled to one side and cascaded down over her left shoulder. The hue of her makeup was deeper and duskier than I’d ever seen with her lips a dazzling pop of scarlet framing her shiny white teeth which drew the eye to sexy mouth. She was already so effortlessly beautiful but made up like this it gave that beauty a cutting edge. An edge made ever more keen by the piercing hunger in her gaze. Like some femme fatale there was an aura of danger surrounding her sultry allure. I was already awestruck and I hadn’t even reached her shoulders!

Ohhh, what fine shoulders they were. Smooth, pale, perfect, and exposed right across her breadth. Her gown was pure sumptuous elegance. It’s color was a rich crimson, a shade darker than her lips yet complimenting them perfectly. Though worn off the shoulders it was long sleeved, it’s upper reaches hugging her arms just below the shoulders and dipping down over her large breasts toward the center to give a mesmerizing view of her cleavage. It took all I had for my eyes not remained glued to that soft space between her tits but I didn’t want to seem ungentlemanly, besides there was so much left to see. The top sort of folded one side over the other across her full bust and at the base was a sash that held the fabric tight around her belly to make her full, round hips even more prominent. Below the waist the flared skirt moves like liquid, testifying to the fine quality of the fabric. The hem at the front reached to just below her knees to reveal the elegant curves of her calves but gradually descends toward the back so that at her heels it was full length. By keeping the length in the back but revealing some skin at the front the effect is as sexy as it was classy. What a dress! And so perfectly suited to her full-figured build. A lesser woman never could have filled that gown like she did.

Rounding off her attire are dainty gold earrings and a slender gold chain around her neck, just enough glitter to accentuate without distraction, and pair of red stiletto pumps. God damn! Usually we were eye to eye, with her maybe a half inch to an inch taller, but with me in socks and her in those heels she positively towered over me!

She was absolutely FUCKING GORGEOUS! And she knew it too. As she strides up to me one bold step at a time she exuded a feminine energy that filled the whole house. Coming to a stop directly in front of me she peers down at me with a dominant confidence that made me feel reeeeeal fucking small, in all the best ways. Again I see the hunger in those rich brown eyes. They were the eyes of a huntress. Right now she was no queen bee. She was a black widow spider!

“I should have a reservation.” She croons, playing along with my waiter’s pose which I had entirely forgotten about.

“Huh?” I squeak, before shaking back to my sense again. “Right. Of course. Table for two, under Everly?”

Her ruby lips curl into a smile. “That’s right. I’m meeting my date here.”

“Of course.” I give a slight bow, step to the side, and extend my hand toward the table where I had everything already set. “Mr. Everly called ahead. He’s running a bit late but he will be here soon. He sends his apologies.”

“Probably working late. He’s a very hard worker. He’s in construction you know.” Hips swaying in that hypnotic way she her heels clack, clack, clack across the linoleum toward the table. I hurry around to pull out her chair and without pause she takes her seat.

Stepping to the side of the table I ask. “May I interest you in the house white while you wait?”

“That sounds lovely.”

We share a look and a laugh then drop the waiter-patron roleplay.

“You look…incredible.” I say, my vocabulary failing utterly to truly express how good I thought she looked. But what can I say when ‘most beautiful woman in the world’ doesn’t even come close to describing her. “Incredible! Wow!”

“Thank you.” She says, beaming.

“I am feeling seriously under dressed!”

“You’re fine.” As I go to pour her some wine she continues. “I was lucky it still fit.” She says, smoothing the sleeve of her dress. “It was bought a long time ago.”

“Oh?”

For a moment she goes a bit wistful, though the smile never fades. “I bought it for my 20th anniversary but…I never got to wear it.” She looks at me. “I never wore it for him, Elliot. But if that bothers you I can change.”

Bringing her her goblet of chardonnay I set it down in front of her and flash her an assuring grin. “A gown that fine deserves to be worn.” Taking her hand I give it a squeeze and say. “I am one lucky guy.”

As I return to the skillet to stir the meat she says softly. “I…spoke with him while I was in there.”

I look back over my shoulder. “You spoke with Alexander?”

“In a sense I did.” She says with a brief glance toward her bedroom. “He told me…to be happy. He said that it was okay not to hurt anymore.” She lets out a sigh. “He wants me to move on. He…gave me his blessing.”

For a moment I am speechless. As I was out here connecting with the spirits of my parents she was at that same moment communing with her deceased husband? That couldn’t be coincidence. I knew how much that moment meant to me. Given the circumstances it must have been doubly so for her. I give quiet thanks to Mr. Hutton for being cool about this, even though I knew that I wasn’t the reason. It would have taken a lot of love to let his tortured spouse fly free again.

Her smile returns and she takes up her wine. “But enough of the past. Here’s to a brighter tomorrow.” With that she takes her first sip.

“A brighter tomorrow.” I echo.

“It smells great!”

“I hope so!” I quip as I click off the burner. “If this doesn’t impress you I don’t have much else to offer.”

“Ohhh, I don’t know about that.” She says. “I think you’ve got a lot to offer. Mmmm.”

Without even looking back I ask. “You’re looking at my butt, aren’t you?”

“He he he!” She chortles. “That would be most unladylike!”

I chuckle and shake my head. Taking the shells from out of the oven I work fast to construct our tacos while the shell were crunchy, the lettuce crisp, and the meat fresh from the hot skillet. I lay out six shells on two plates and set to work. I hoped it didn’t seem excessive, Blair used only take three, but I knew Heather was a woman with an appetite. An appetite that I very much wanted to satisfy. Meat, salsa, cheese, tomato, cilantro, lettuce and avocado are carefully pilled into each crispy tortilla so they were each filling yet attractive to the eye. Taking her plate up on my hand, level with my shoulder, I am back in waiter mode as I carry the feast to my date.

Setting the dish in front of her I step back. Seeing both her and my food beside each other I am suddenly aware of just how ridiculous this was. She was dressed for a Michelin starred five course meal. In retrospect I wished I’d done an appetizer or salad or something else besides a half dozen identical tacos. And tacos? Who has tacos dressed like that? If she had any complaints however she hid them well as her eyes widen at the offering before her.

“Ohhh!” She says. “This smells sooooo good!” I swear I grow two inches I felt so proud. Closing her eyes she takes a long, deep inhale then opens them again as she lets the breath out. “Mmmmm! This meat. Cumin. Smoked pimenton. A dash of sugar. Two…no, three…no! Four kinds of chili powder?”

“That’s right.” I nod.

“And the fresh cilantro!”

“Smells like green.”

“Smells delicious! Oh my God. My mouth is actually watering.”

“Well, let’s eat while its fresh.” Hurrying back the counter I grab my plate and return to the table to take my seat. I am just about to pour my own wine when I notice a familiar tiny glass vial sitting beside my glass. I pause, staring at the little dose of honey.

Heather lays her napkin over her lap. “Given our new timeline I didn’t think we had to be quite so cautious anymore. It’s up to you of course.” She watches me closely as I lift the vial. “If you take it I suggest adding it to your wine. The effect will be the same, though more gradual.”

Studying the vial I slowly turn it to watch the clear, slightly viscous fluid shift within. I could feel Heather’s intense gaze on me as I do so. Such a small thing, the contents just a few drops, yet this tiny vial represented another step toward a lifetime commitment. Not the final step, but a meaningful one. I wanted her to see me as a man and with this gesture she was doing exactly that. Thus far she’d been protecting her ‘boy’ by controlling my exposure. But this time the choice was mine alone.

Sparked by the bright red of her plump lips the image of a black widow resurfaces in my mind as I think about the deadly consequences that the tiny males of that species accepted for just one chance at being with the larger, stronger, more powerful female. For them, just like me with Heather, it was all or nothing.