Putting the dish aside, I notice my computer lying on the footstool in front of the easy chair. You know I could look up aphrodisiac on the internet to get an idea what kind of restaurant we should go to. It would not hurt to be prepared with a list I could compare to the menu. Overcome with curiosity, I turn on the laptop pulling up a search engine. Typing in the letters quickly I hit the search button and wait for a reply. Asparagus, arugula, almonds, bananas, avocado; who made up this list? Just what I was afraid of; fruits and vegetables. According to the article, one reason a food is an aphrodisiac is its resemblance to genitalia. Bananas make sense but what man wants to be compared to a spear of asparagus? Why not hot dogs or sausages instead? They look just as much like a man’s penis as a banana does. Meatballs would be a great addition to the list. Looking farther down the list, I see carrots, honey and chocolate. This part of the list I can work with. Steamed carrots with a touch of honey alongside a couple of meatballs sounds like the perfect entree to get the hormones flowing. Top that off with a banana split covered in chocolate sauce with almonds sprinkled on top for dessert and we may be renting a room close to the restaurant. Based on this food list, as far as I can tell the perfect restaurant is the local family owned diner. Had I done a little more research, I would not have had to spend all day at the mall looking for the perfect outfit. Jeans, a nice blouse and any pair of sneakers or boots I have upstairs would have made the perfect outfit.
With all the effort I put in today, we will be going to a more up-scale dining establishment. Even if we can’t afford to order anything, I will be seen in high society with this outfit. I will sit at the table sipping free water all night long looking fantastic. My stomach won’t growl so loud that we can’t talk over the noise. I can put a granola bar in my purse to be safe. I can always excuse myself, stand in the coatroom, and nibble on it to calm the rumbling. Hell, I have money even if he doesn’t. I will be eating a complete meal in my fancy duds even if I have to pay, and he may still get laid. He may not get a second date but he may get lucky on his one and only shot at this body.
Closing the laptop, I notice the time has flown faster than I expected. How did it get to be nine o’clock already? Heading upstairs to the bedroom, I gather my prizes from the day’s excursion to put away for safekeeping. Taking the dress out of its protective bag, I take one more look at it before placing it in the closet. Holding the dress against my chest, I lightly dance around the room. The fabric twirls around my legs falling softly across my skin. Tossing my head back, I pretend to laugh at the silly joke Rick has just told me. I still like the color and cut of the fabric. It was a great choice that I can wear again if this dating thing becomes a habit. Placing the shoebox on the top shelf for safekeeping, I close the closet door releasing a sigh of relief. Phase 1 is done. Tomorrow is a new day with a new challenge. After work, I have to get my hair done. I need a good night’s sleep before I can tackle that issue. A professional has not attended to this hair in years. Sinking into bed, I pull the covers up over my head to signal the end of the day.
Friday November 24
The breeze feels fantastic as it gently flows over my face. Without opening my eyes, I can tell the sun is out. The strong rays beat down on my body bathing it in warmth. Lying on the beach was a wonderful idea. I can sense Rick’s body close by. I can hear his gentle, rhythmic breathing within inches of my ear. In the trees, blue birds sing the glories of this beautiful day. In the distance, I can hear the water as it washes up against the shore dragging sand back into the ocean. Slowly I begin to feel warm breath on my cheek. Cracking a slight smile, I turn my head toward the warmth expecting to bid good morning to my hunky beach buddy.
“Good morning Phritz,” I purr ruffling her fur. I can always count on Phritz to greet me in the morning. She really does like me; the bites are an occupational hazard. She reminds me of my grandmother who didn’t know how to show affection so she covered up her shortcomings with criticism. Had I known then what I know now I would have hugged her every time she found fault. To make up for the lost hugs I give them to Phritz whether she likes them or not. I’m positive Grandma is watching and can make the connection. Just then, the alarm goes off reminding me I have a job to do.
Sometimes I wish I were the type who called in sick without feeling guilty. I could use the entire day to scope out a salon. However, I would not enjoy the journey knowing I was shirking my duties at work. Besides, I could use the distraction of dealing with the public to stop worrying about the impending dinner date. Now that I think about it, Rick delivers today. He had better not try to back out after all I went through yesterday. I don’t think cranberry is his color. Since the dress will end up tightly wrapped around his neck, the color should not clash with his usual dark blue outfit. His big problem would be walking with the gold high heel stuck up his behind. There is no sense worrying about something that has not happened. I will be extra cheerful today when he makes his delivery to insure he does not back out.
Grabbing my purse, I head out the door searching for the closest coffee shop. A large coffee with a coffee cake muffin is the perfect way to start the day. As I head down the road, I hit the scan button on the radio searching for music. The stations change after five seconds of song so I’m not stuck listening to a boring song. If I want to listen to a particular song, I just hit the button on the steering wheel and the scanning stops on that station. Once the song is over, I hit the scan button to start the process all over again. I wonder if that would be considered a symptom of A.D.D. I can focus just fine on my driving I just can’t focus on one particular station. Maybe it’s because of all the yakking on the radio. Most DJs are not funny; some are downright disgusting so why waste my ears on their drivel. Just give me music that will soothe the savage breast. Good music can make me ignore the driving habits many of these people have.
Take for instance the red light. Apparently stopping at a red light is only mandatory between the hours of 1 am and 1:14 am. I have seen up to ten drivers run the light out of a feeling of entitlement I guess. If the police would set up at just this intersection each day, they would have their ticket quota for the month in a couple of days. The state’s budget deficit could be history in no time. Just think of the surplus of money the state would have to put toward education, health care and elder care. I bet no one would have to pay taxes again with all the money earned from these tickets. If the fine is low enough so the drivers don’t feel the sting, they will become repeat offenders giving more money for the state’s coffers. I think I’ll email the idea to the governor and see what he thinks.
Coffee and muffin in hand I reach the office unseen by any employees. This gives me a few minutes to gather my thoughts and make a game plan for the day. I can also look around to see what they did or did not accomplish yesterday before the excuses start. Just as I start to sip the hot coffee, I feel a vibration at my side. Who could be calling so early in the day? As I flip open, the phone I
see it’s Rick. I hope he is not backing out on tomorrow.
“Hello” I answer hopefully in an encouraging tone.
“Good morning” huskily emits from the earpiece. “How’s your day going so far?”
A grin spreads across my lips as I realize this is not a breakup call but a good morning I miss you call. Leaning back in the chair I answer trying not to stutter. “So far so good thanks for asking. I just got in and settled so there hasn’t been much time for things to go wrong.”
“I just thought I’d check in to make sure we’re still on for tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.” My heart starts to beat faster as my ears process what he just said. A gorgeous man is waiting to spend time with me. My feet cannot stop dancing. I’m so excited I almost miss his next sentence. “Have you decided which restaurant you’d like to go to?”
“I was thinking about the steakhouse down the street. I hear it has good food along with a nice cozy atmosphere.”
“That sounds great, how about I bring you some coffee wh
en I deliver today?” He is so considerate. I think bringing me coffee is one of those subtle signs I’m supposed to be looking for.
“I would love a good cup of coffee. Thanks a lot. See you soon?” hopefully the tone of my voice did not sounding too needy.
“I should be there in about 3 hours. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, the phone goes dead. I hold the cold metal in my palm replaying the conversation over again. I can’t believe he is really looking forward to spending time with me. I should believe it since he asked me out but until the date actually happens one can never be too sure. I still have this fear he will drop dead or some other tragedy will happen to ruin my big night out. Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I leave the office walking in the direction of Rebecca’s voice. I refuse to ruin a perfectly good day on morbid thoughts that surely won’t come true. With that thought, my hand reaches out and knocks on the wooden desk as I pass by.
Luckily, the store is a busy place today. I have no time to worry anymore about tomorrow night. Customers enter the store in droves looking for a variety of items. I find myself studying each female customer’s hairstyle looking for guidance. I still have to have mine done tonight and I have no idea how I want the finished style to look like. I bet I have seen twenty-five different styles already today. Everything from beehives to bobs, nothing strikes a chord. Take this woman waiting in line. Her hair is shorter on one side than it is on the other. That shade of red is not natural either. I can’t believe she paid someone to do that to her head. The woman next to her is not any better. Her gray roots are showing even though her piled high hair has enough starch to support a high rise. There must be an entire can of hair spray layered on her head. The next woman is no inspiration; her hair hangs limply on either side of her face. I need something with body and pizzazz.
Looking toward the door my heart stops beating for just a moment. Rick with the biggest cup of coffee I have ever seen just walked through the door. He is so good looking I could come right now with very little effort. Better get moving before someone sees the sweat beading on my palms.
Nodding toward the back of the building, I lead the way to the delivery dock. “Hey, how are you?” I try to make pleasantries to hide my excitement at seeing his dark brown eyes. I wonder if he can see me trembling inside.
“Great,” he murmurs as he hands me the coffee. “I wasn’t sure how thirsty you were so I brought you enough coffee to last the day. Hope you don’t mind.” I felt an electric shock as our hands touched. Searching his face, I try to see if he felt it too. A slight smile passes over his lips as I take a sip. I knew it; he did feel it. I wonder how many times I can accidentally touch his hand before it becomes obvious.
“You want the big pieces first or last?” I scan his body from top to bottom while waiting for an answer.
“I’ll put the little pieces on top first, and then the big ones will fit on the bottom.”
“Here you go. I’ll bring these to the door for you.” Our fingers touch again as I hand over the box to him. I’m not sure I can take too much more of this. I may have to barricade him in the bathroom and molest him. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. Every time our skin touches, the pulse between my thighs gets stronger.
Finally, all the merchandise is loaded on the truck. I’m surprised to see my pants don’t have a big wet stain in the crotch. Taking the paperwork from my hands, Rick steps forward and pecks me on the cheek. The heat from his soft lips sears my skin. Before I can react, he darts out the door like a ten year old that just experienced his first kiss. Dazed my hand reaches up to touch the cheek hoping to rub the kiss into my skin. Tomorrow is going to be a great day.
With Rick gone I can get back to deciding what to do with my hair. A drastic cut is out of the question. So is coloring it. I like my ash blond hair. Still don’t have any grey hairs, which is a blessing. A perm would be feasible but the smell would still be clinging to the hair since the date is in less than thirty-six hours. I need my hair to smell intoxicating whenever his nose is within smelling distance. I would hate to pay someone to put rollers in my hair; that is something I can do at home free. The appointment is in a couple hours; maybe I will get some inspiration before then. In the meantime, I have paperwork to shuffle before I can leave. Hugging the jumbo coffee cup to my breast like a love torn teenager I head off to my office.
“Hey sis, any ideas what I can do with my hair? I’ve got a big date Saturday night and need some advise.” This time I call my other sister, Lisa. It wouldn’t hurt to have a third opinion. Work is quiet and I know she is home.
“Marsha called me last night. She said you finally trapped a man into paying for dinner and you were freaking out over what to wear.” She didn’t even hide the laughter in her voice.
“I’m not freaking out. I’m having a big moment and thought I’d involve my sisters. Don’t worry it won’t happen again.” I wonder if it is too late to give them up for adoption.
“Is your hair still baby fine and not much of it?”
“Yeah, thanks for rubbing that in. Do you have any ideas or not?”
“Have you given any thought to wearing a wig?”
“If you don’t want to help me just say so. You know I’m not going to buy a wig. I don’t have enough hair to hold one on. I’d be better off shaving my head and painting my scalp.”
“There you go, problem solved. You didn’t need my help after all.”
“You have a nice day; I’ve got to get back to work.” Flipping the phone shut a sigh of exasperation escapes my lips. Little sisters can be such a pain sometimes.
With paper and pencil, I begin to doodle hairstyles on a stick figure head. Long hair would be great but it would involve extensions. With my luck, one would fall off in the soup during dinner. I don’t plan to carry a purse big enough to hide hair in. besides I understand it takes hours to have them glued to your head and I don’t have that much time. I need something quick and easy to care for. Drawing another head, I give this one copious curls. Curls start out beautiful but turn limp when confronted by humidity or stress. I don’t want a cut I have to monitor throughout the evening. Too many trips to the ladies’ room may make me seem either incontinent or vain.
Maybe I a wig isn’t such a bad idea. How do you take it off though without causing disappointment? Rick could get all excited thinking how he is going to run his fingers through my hair while enjoying after dinner kisses. I want to feel his fingers as they caress my hair. My scalp is very sensitive which makes the caressing more exciting. If I wore a wig, I would not feel anything. Rick might think his efforts were unappreciated and stop. Worse, he could get his fingers caught in a snarl and pull the wig off my head. How awkward would that be? Since I love having my hair stroked, wearing a wig is definitely out. I want to feel everything that happens before, during and definitely after dinner.
5:00 PM
Finally, the last customer strolls out the door, which I firmly lock behind them. As the others get the money ready for the safe, I check all the doors to make sure the locks are secure. With the last door checked, we are ready to start the weekend. Waving good-bye to the building, I unlock my car and head to the mall. Traffic is heavy this time of day so it takes about twenty minutes to make the two-mile trip down the road to the mall. Easing into a parking spot, I head into the nearest door eager to see what a stylist can do for my hair.
The salon is packed. The entire mall is packed. With all the cars on the road and all the people in the mall, who could possibly be home? I can’t believe there are this many people living in this city. It makes me want to get on the loud speaker and ask everyone why they are not home having dinner with their families instead of here getting in my way. That may come across as rude but so is being a walk in customer at the salon when I need this appointment. My appointment is more important, at least to me. Now I have to wait. According to the receptionist, it could be up to an hour. Great, hurry up and wait, the all-American way. The whole concept of appointments is
to prevent this from happening. You call a business, designate a time frame to use their service, show up at the start of the time frame and partake of the service. It is that simple. But no. To generate more revenue when there are not enough appointments companies like this salon take walk in customers. I understand wanting to make a buck, but now I’m being inconvenienced. I cannot even complain about the wait. Fear of what the beautician may do to my hair in retaliation stops me. She could offer a slight tint to add highlights but forget to mention the color she is using is green. Then again, the perm that is only supposed to give body could become the biggest afro the world has seen in decades. On the other hand, the sabotage could be more subtle. A lock of hair in the back could come up missing giving me a permanent part in the back of my head. Just this once I believe I will hold my tongue and wait my turn. I can work with the hair I have if the appointment falls through. I cannot grow replacement hair overnight.
At first, I spend time leafing through magazines looking for the perfect hairstyle. I have already decided a nice cut would be the best way to go. A cut that shapes the hair adding some body is something I have not done in years. I pretty much have relied on the straight look except when I need a shampoo then the perfect do is a ponytail. As I flip the pages, I imagine my face surrounded by the haircut featured on the magazine’s page. I picture wavy bands of hair wrapped around my head like a bandana. It makes me look like I’m twelve. The next page is not any better. An afro is not my style either. However, it would come in handy if you really could hide things in the huge ball of hair. Pens and pencils would fit of course. Wouldn’t it be great if you could put your car keys or cell phone in there? Imagine the look on peoples’ faces when your head started ringing as you walked by. The trick would be getting the phone out without dislodging everything else hiding up there. One wrong move and it would be raining keys, writing utensils, change and possibly gumdrops. I don’t have enough hair for an afro anyways. Mine would be so tight I would look like a monkey with the frizzes. Time to turn the page and see what else is available. Pigtails, there you go. Just the hairstyle I need to emit maturity. I can have one high above each ear. What was I thinking? All I really need is a cheer leading outfit from the local costume store, a couple of pom poms and my hair in pigtails. How could any man resist that look? I could have relaxed all day yesterday instead of stressing out shopping. Isn't that every man’s fantasy to date a cheerleader? With enough makeup along with a very dim restaurant, I could pass as a college cheerleader. Maybe not one you'd see in the first row but a cheerleader nonetheless. Damn my proper upbringing, I guess this is the price I pay for having a sense of shame. Next, page please. Short hair, shorter hair, and almost no hair cuts are all that follow. That was a waste of time. Leafing through all the magazine covers I notice they all offer the same styles ranging from wild to boring. Not one of them suits me. According to the clock on the wall thirty minutes have passed. I had better check with the receptionist again to see when my turn is coming.
Dinner Should be Enjoyed Naked Page 6