through my brain. I was no longer in control of my own mind, and the whole evening now bordered on the absurd. Is this really what men did to women? Rendered them into slobbering, hallucinating messes who couldn’t think or even see straight?
I struggled to regain my composure. “I’m sorry, my mind must have wandered just now,” I confessed. “That happens sometimes when I haven’t eaten enough.” Or when I want to jump someone’s bones, I silently added. My inner self jumped up and down in an aggressive cheerleading routine; I clamped her down, willed her to keep her feet on the ground.
“Well, how about we have a proper dinner instead of just a drink?” Peter said, his expression softening. “My treat. It’s the least I can do.”
My inner self ignored my orders to be silent and then began turning cartwheels. “There’s a good diner near here,” I said. “Just a few blocks. We can walk. They don’t serve alcohol, but they make a mean malted milkshake.”
He smiled. “That sounds lovely. Lead the way.”
THREE
I guided Peter up, down and around four city blocks until we arrived at the Salt-n-Pepper, an all-night Greek diner that Hannah and I had been frequenting for years. Layla, the much tattooed and pierced night waitress, recognized me immediately.
“Your usual table, Nancy?” she asked by way of greeting.
“No, I have company tonight,” I replied, cutting my eyes over in Peter’s direction. Layla gave a single nod signaling she understood, and guided us over to a large wraparound booth in the corner. We seated ourselves on either side, and Layla handed each of us a laminated menu. Peter studied his carefully, but I just set mine aside; I already knew what I wanted.
“The usual, hon?” Layla whispered in my ear. I nodded and she tottered off on her knee-high platform boots, giving me a not-so-subtle thumbs-up of approval at Peter. “Very hot,” she mouthed silently from across the diner as she busied herself at the milkshake station, making my favorite chocolate mocha malted concoction. Fortunately Peter was too buried in the menu to notice.
“There’s so many choices,” he observed, flipping the pages. “Any suggestions?”
“You can’t go wrong with a chocolate malted,” I said. “They make them the old-fashioned way. The burgers are great, too. And they make the best Denver omelet this side of the Mississippi.”
“Spoken like a true connoisseur.”
“I’ve spent many a late-night cram session here,” I said just as Layla returned and set the gigantic pillar milkshake glass in front of me.
“I almost put in your usual burger order, hon, but I thought you might be broadening your horizons tonight.” She cast a glance in Peter’s direction. He noticed this time, and reddened.
“I will take my usual burger order, Layla. Just add extra bacon this time, and a side of onion rings. I’m super hungry.”
She tapped her order pad with her pen. “I’d say so. And you, sir?”
Peter closed his menu and handed it to her. “I’ll have the same,” he said. “Only make my burger rare. Extremely rare, steak-tartar style. I like a bit of blood with my dinner.”
Layla chuckled at this. “Coming right up. You want the same chocolate malted as your date, then, sir?” He smiled and nodded.
Date? I felt my cheeks burn. Next time I came in here I would have to give Layla a piece of my mind. “I’ll be right back, kids.” She sashayed off down the aisle towards the kitchen.
Peter watched her go, shook his head, and chuckled. “So I take it you’re a regular here.”
“Yes, you could say that.”
We stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds. Ever since that first fleeting moment when he’d restrained me with the cable tie----it seemed as if the entire time and space continuum had slowed down. The world was in sharper focus, all sensations intensified. Even the feeling of the smooth Naugahyde booth seat
I struggled to regain my composure. “I’m sorry, my mind must have wandered just now,” I confessed. “That happens sometimes when I haven’t eaten enough.” Or when I want to jump someone’s bones, I silently added. My inner self jumped up and down in an aggressive cheerleading routine; I clamped her down, willed her to keep her feet on the ground.
“Well, how about we have a proper dinner instead of just a drink?” Peter said, his expression softening. “My treat. It’s the least I can do.”
My inner self ignored my orders to be silent and then began turning cartwheels. “There’s a good diner near here,” I said. “Just a few blocks. We can walk. They don’t serve alcohol, but they make a mean malted milkshake.”
He smiled. “That sounds lovely. Lead the way.”
THREE
I guided Peter up, down and around four city blocks until we arrived at the Salt-n-Pepper, an all-night Greek diner that Hannah and I had been frequenting for years. Layla, the much tattooed and pierced night waitress, recognized me immediately.
“Your usual table, Nancy?” she asked by way of greeting.
“No, I have company tonight,” I replied, cutting my eyes over in Peter’s direction. Layla gave a single nod signaling she understood, and guided us over to a large wraparound booth in the corner. We seated ourselves on either side, and Layla handed each of us a laminated menu. Peter studied his carefully, but I just set mine aside; I already knew what I wanted.
“The usual, hon?” Layla whispered in my ear. I nodded and she tottered off on her knee-high platform boots, giving me a not-so-subtle thumbs-up of approval at Peter. “Very hot,” she mouthed silently from across the diner as she busied herself at the milkshake station, making my favorite chocolate mocha malted concoction. Fortunately Peter was too buried in the menu to notice.
“There’s so many choices,” he observed, flipping the pages. “Any suggestions?”
“You can’t go wrong with a chocolate malted,” I said. “They make them the old-fashioned way. The burgers are great, too. And they make the best Denver omelet this side of the Mississippi.”
“Spoken like a true connoisseur.”
“I’ve spent many a late-night cram session here,” I said just as Layla returned and set the gigantic pillar milkshake glass in front of me.
“I almost put in your usual burger order, hon, but I thought you might be broadening your horizons tonight.” She cast a glance in Peter’s direction. He noticed this time, and reddened.
“I will take my usual burger order, Layla. Just add extra bacon this time, and a side of onion rings. I’m super hungry.”
She tapped her order pad with her pen. “I’d say so. And you, sir?”
Peter closed his menu and handed it to her. “I’ll have the same,” he said. “Only make my burger rare. Extremely rare, steak-tartar style. I like a bit of blood with my dinner.”
Layla chuckled at this. “Coming right up. You want the same chocolate malted as your date, then, sir?” He smiled and nodded.
Date? I felt my cheeks burn. Next time I came in here I would have to give Layla a piece of my mind. “I’ll be right back, kids.” She sashayed off down the aisle towards the kitchen.
Peter watched her go, shook his head, and chuckled. “So I take it you’re a regular here.”
“Yes, you could say that.”
We stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds. Ever since that first fleeting moment when he’d restrained me with the cable tie----it seemed as if the entire time and space continuum had slowed down. The world was in sharper focus, all sensations intensified. Even the feeling of the smooth Naugahyde booth seat
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