Dinner Should be Enjoyed Naked

by Michelle Charpentier

  Next, is lotion for my legs. Since I’m not wearing pantyhose, tonight they need to be extra silky smooth. Reaching for the bottle of lotion, I squirt a little bit in my hand and start rubbing it down my calves kneading the skin with my fingers to make sure the lotion reaches deep inside the pores. Once again, I find myself relying on somebody else’s product to make this night be perfect. The bottle says the lotion leaves your skin silky smooth, touchably soft and it had better happen that way. I would hate to have to wake up tomorrow and start my list of complaint letters to these companies whose product could not stand up to their claims. I would have to make a form letter and just fill in the blanks for each different company since all the complaints would be the same.

  “Dear Sirs,” I would write. “I must inform you that your product did not enhancement my sex life, increase my beauty, or make every man stop in their tracks just to notice me. Since I was only trying to get the attention of one man and your product did not work on just one man, I feel you owe me not only an apology but also a refund. It would be different if I was trying to attract the whole world but we are only talking about one man. He is not even a difficult man to attract. Over the last few years, he has had plenty of attention from females so it should not have been too difficult for me to get his attention especially if aided by your product. Therefore, it is my duty to inform you your product has failed miserably and you need to take it off the shelf for further study.”

  I probably would be the only woman to write one of these letters showing my disappointment but I promise I will if tonight does not go as planned. Now I understand I have something to do with pulling Rick into my web but I’m not shouting to the world on TV that I can do it with just a little bit of lotion or maybe this type of makeup as these advertisers are. Therefore, I actually own very little responsibility to tonight’s success. All I have to do is speak intelligently and not spill food down my cleavage and I will have fulfilled my potential. Realistically, if we end up in bed tonight that success will be up to Rick. I hate to feed into a stereotype but he has the bigger burden since he has to rise to the occasion. I on the other hand just have to be loving and supportive during our lovemaking. Kisses here, caresses there along with a well-placed moan will show my eagerness to participate. The one problem with this theory is I have never been able to fake anything. If the juices are not flowing then there won’t be any moaning. Luckily, I don’t see that as a problem since for the last week I have not been able to get that man out of my head. I don’t see how he cannot rock my world tonight.

  Finally, it’s time for the fingernails. Opening the box of fake nails I pull out eight, one for each finger, the thumbnails are on their own. I don’t know how some women maneuver with three inch nails on all ten fingers and I’m not about to find out tonight. Keeping my thumbnails a natural length ensures I’ll be able to unbutton Rick’s shirt without any problems. Slowly placing a drop of glue on the nail to hold it in place, I squeeze the piece of plastic onto my fingernail. After a minute, I let go pleased the fake nail stays in place. Picking the next one up, I promptly drop the nail on the floor. Slowly my toes probe the area where I think the nail fell hoping to quickly find it. I’m not getting on hands and knees tonight for a fake fingernail. Reaching into the vanity drawer, I pull another nail out of the box and continue gluing. One good thing about fake nails is they dry instantly so I can polish them immediately. I have the best nail polish ever made. It really covers in one coat and dries within seconds. Who cares if the polish chips tomorrow as long as it looks fabulous tonight.

  Glancing at the clock, I see I only have twenty minutes before he arrives. I need to get a moving and finish dressing quickly so I have time to relax before he knocks on the door. I want to greet him at the door very refreshed and relaxed not winded from having to rush to get ready. Showing a little bit of excitement for the date tonight is great. Acting like a love struck schoolgirl would probably send him screaming towards his car. The last thing I need is to spend a whole week getting ready for the perfect date and then stand at the door watching his tires peel out as he tries to get away from me as fast as possible.

  Realistically, I don’t think it would ever happen since he is a gentleman. I’m sure he would just go ahead with the date, suffer through it and shake my hand as he left me at the door at the end of the night. The impractical side of me though cannot stop thinking about the worst happening, which would be his total disappointment as I opened the door. After all this work, if I don’t see a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye I believe I’ll just shut the door grab my quart of ice cream and head back to the recliner. Pushing that thought out of my head, I remind myself to think positively. I will have plenty of time once he gets here to ruin the date without planting seeds of destruction in my psyche ahead of time.

  Sliding the dress over my head, I gently ease the fabric down over my hips pulling snugly to make sure the fabric caresses everything the way it should. I adjust the girls to make sure they sit in just the right position so the appropriate amount of cleavage is exposed. Slipping on the shimmering heels, I take a final glance in the mirror and can’t help smiling to myself. If he isn't knocked out by what he sees, I’m handing in my membership card for the Association of womanhood. Men wonder whether there is a secret society women belong to since we all seem to have similar traits. Whenever the topic comes up, we always play dumb and blame the similarities on genetics. Since all women have the same basic chromosome, it must be something to do with the similar DNA. In reality there is a secret society that women can join with a book holding all the strategies designed to drive men insane.

  Hundreds of years ago, one thoughtless woman gave up our power in the world to men. A society based on hunting and gathering gave women all the power. We decided where we would settle down and we decided what we would eat since we gathered the food. The men took care of the campgrounds. Somewhere along the line, some woman decided she liked the scenery at the latest campground and decided the group should stay put. She thought it would be a good idea to plant a garden, grow your own food, raise a couple animals, and not travel so much. That is when we lost control. As soon as the men figured out is they didn’t have to breakdown the camp, move all the belongings, and erect it every few weeks but instead were free to roam the countryside our power over them was gone. They were free to get their own food when and where they felt like it. It’s not that we couldn’t take the camp down and move it when we wanted to but we hadn’t had to for so long we were sure the men were going to come back and do it for us. Well the joke was on us. The men banded together refusing to move the camp ever again.

  According to the book, you could feel the break in the time space continuum as power shifted over to the men. That was when the secret society of womanhood was born. Through the years as society has changed we have added more strategies to the book to make sure all the women involved have all the power that they need to counter act the control of men. Successful women have an outward appearance of coexisting successfully with men when in reality they have total control of the relationship. You can spot the women that either don’t believe in the society or were uninformed of the society because of the way they are living their lives. I’m not suggesting that every woman that belongs to the society is successful and happy in everything she does but when she does fail, it is a complete and total surprise.

  Grabbing a perfume bottle, I add the last piece of insurance to the ensemble. Holding my finger over the top of the bottle, I tip it upside down allowing the sweet smelling liquid to flow slowly onto my skin. Gently I spread the aromatic liquid in just the right places. A dab on each ankle, one on behind each knee, a long line right between my breasts and lastly a tad behind each ear will leave enough scent to drive him crazy. Rick will have every opportunity to appreciate the perfume I bought just to impress him. If he does not get close to one of these body parts tonight, I will be devastated. One more pat of my hair and I’m ready to go. Gingerly, I walk down the stairs being
careful with each step. I swear that if I fall down and break a leg, he is going to carry me to dinner tonight. Finally, ten minutes more and he will be here.

  Looking around the room, I make sure I have everything I need to make this night spectacular. My purse is on the table, a throw is on the back of the chair. I shouldn’t need anything else tonight. Suddenly the bing bong of the doorbell reverberates in my ear. He’s here, he’s here my mind screams. Calm down, I tell myself, take a deep breath. Remember he is just a man and this is just a dinner date. I know how much I’m looking forward to this hopefully becoming the start of a great relationship but if I pass out from the excitement now it’s going to make for a very short date. Slowly I walk towards the door, reaching out to turn the knob without seeming overly anxious. Each twist of the knob seems to take forever before I hear the gentle click of the lock signaling what could be the beginning of the rest of my life. Taking one last deep calming breath, I swing the door open. My eyes twinkle as my lips spread open in a wide smile, for a moment. I rapidly blink a few times to clear my eyesight because standing in front of me is not the man of my dreams but an insurance agent.

  "What the hell," I think. As he stands there talking I move my head to the right and to the left to try to see if Rick is hiding from me somewhere. This has to be a joke; he must be hiding in the bushes. I look back at the insurance agent whose lips are moving but all I hear is blah blah blah blah blah. I have to shake my head before his voice starts to register what he is saying. Who in their right mind tries to sell insurance at six o’clock on a Saturday night? He probably was the school geek who never went out on a Saturday night so working right now is not unusual. Well I didn’t date in high school either but I did learn how to stop working on the weekend. I also know enough not to bother people during the dinner hour.

  “I’m sorry I’m not interested,” I say with apologetic look on my face as I guide him toward the open door. “Besides I’m late for an appointment and I really need to get going.” He keeps talking his sales pitch as I’m ushering him out the door. It is amazing the stamina these people have. I wonder if he is as persistent in bed. Well that is a thought for another day. I need to move him out of here before Rick shows up. It would be just my luck the two would hit it off and I would be sitting here all gussied up listening to insurance talk all night. The two of them would want coffee, possibly dessert, probably hospitality that I’m in short supply of. I would end up going upstairs to watch TV leaving the two men to let themselves out when they finish their conversation. I can picture myself standing at the window staring at those two sappy souls walking down the street together. Opening the window, I lean out into the cold dark night, my breasts barely contained inside the thin nightgown. My voice carries down the quiet street as I bid farewell to a lost opportunity, “Rick you could’ve had me tonight.” Hanging my head, I duck back inside and slowly close the window pulling the drapes shut. Luckily, I don’t see Rick slowly shrug his shoulders and continue down the street apparently oblivious to what he could have.

  What are the odds I would get a stranger come to my door at the exact time I’m expecting company. No one ever comes to this door. I’ve not had a visitor in the three years I’ve lived here. I hope the universe is not playing games with me.

  “Tonight is not the night for fun and games,” I scold the higher powers, at least ones based on the universe’s funny bone. Since Rick is already a few minutes late, I suppose I have time to make some coffee. Not only will it give me something to drink but also it will occupy my mind while I wait. I hate it when company is late. The longer I have to wait the more the feeling sinks in that maybe I had it wrong. Maybe they really don’t want to spend any time with me. Maybe I misunderstood the whole conversation and no one is going to show up. Maybe I have become the school geek who nobody wants to spend any time with. Maybe I should just end the night right now so as not to be any more disappointed. That quart of ice cream is looking better and better all the time. Stop it I tell myself. The man is only ten minutes late; there is no reason to panic. Actually, he’s not late he is just not as early as he had planned on being. Sitting at the table, I concentrate on the drip drip drip of the coffee as the brown liquid fills the pot. The ensuing aroma waifs through the air, fills my nose and calms my mind. Slowly my breathing returns to normal as the anxieties begin to dissipate. I’m sure he won’t be much longer. My prince will come, the date will be perfect, and we will kiss the night away.

  “Would Mademoiselle like cream in her coffee?” the handsome French waiter asked ever so politely. Meeting for coffee at this quaint French bistro was a perfect idea. The outdoor tables with their cute umbrellas are the perfect setting on this warm summer day for quiet conversation with a handsome man. Softly I thank the waiter as he pours just a dollop of cream in my coffee smiling as he walks away. I can appreciate a sexy looking man. The gentle sway of the waiter’s hips as he glides through the tables makes my blood start to run warm. Feeling the blood come to my cheeks, I duck my head hiding a smirk underneath my hat. It is a good thing I have a date coming or I would be tempted to ask him for his number. I looked up just in time to see Rick approach my table. The wide smile spread across his lips shows me that he is just as happy to be there as I’m. Some men might see having coffee at an outdoor café as too girlie which is too bad since on a beautiful day like today, it’s the perfect way to get to know someone without feeling confined. If things don’t go well or you run out of things to talk about, there is the entire outdoors to draw inspiration. It is also easier to make a break for it and disappeared down the street. There’s no doors or solid walls to get in the way of your escape. Luckily, this won’t be the case today. Meeting at this bistro was actually Rick’s idea showing that he is not a conventional man. As he reaches the table, he lowers his head to kiss me gently on the cheek.

  Bing bong rings through the air as his lips lowered closer to my skin. A shiver of anticipation runs through my body at the same time a nagging thought appears wondering why I’m hearing a doorbell. I thought you were supposed to hear angelic bells when that one special person kissed you not doorbells. Bing bong reverberates through the air again disturbing my thoughts.

  This time the noise brings me back to reality and I realize it’s the doorbell and I’ve been lost in another daydream. Jumping up from the table, I try not to race as fast as I can to the door in anticipation of Rick’s arrival. Instead I rein in my excitement and purposely put one foot in front of the other trying to look as calm as possible. Deliberately I reached for the handle while my brain screams, “this is it, this is it and the date is finally beginning.” As the door swings open, I plant the biggest smile I have across my lips and stare sexily at the figure in the doorway.

  I’m sure the fourteen-year-old Boy Scout there to try to sell me light bulbs is going to take this story back to his friends as a badge of honor. I can hear it now “she came to the door with her boobs showing in a slinky dress smiling at me in a way that women do when they want you.” I’m sure he is going to have a sleazy grin on his face when he brags to his buddies how he could have had me if he wanted to. Too bad there wouldn’t be an adult there to tell him he would not have known what to do with me if he had the chance. If I actually asked him in, I’m sure he would have run screaming down the street crying for his mommy. I, on the other hand, tried not to look as disappointed as I was that it was not Rick again. This rollercoaster ride of first excitement and then let down is starting to weigh on my nerves. I’m going to be exhausted by the time the date actually starts. The sound of the Boy Scouts squeaky little voice starts breaking through my thoughts reminding me there is someone standing in front of me on my doorstep. I really should acknowledge that little speech he has just given me about his light bulbs since I’m sure he has stood in front of a mirror for hours practicing so as not to be nervous.

  “How much did you say they were?” I ask the young man more to get him moving in a different direction than actually needing light bulbs. I re
ally need him to move on to the next house so that I can compose myself before Rick gets here. Handing the young man a five-dollar bill I thank him for the package of light bulbs and quickly shut the door. I toss the package on the couch and head back toward the kitchen to finish my cup of coffee.

  Holding the cup in both hands I pace back and forth in the kitchen patiently waiting for this night to begin. With all the adrenaline running through my veins I probably could play a full quarter of a football game without padding. The excess energy would keep me sprinting, dodging, and weaving better than a pro-quarterback. I’m sure nobody would be able to touch me. Unfortunately, I’m standing here in a form fitting dress and high heels with no avenue of release, so I guess I will just keep pacing. Unfortunately, the ticking of the wall clock is imbedding itself in my brain. My thoughts are drawn to the tick tock tick tock echoing in the back of my head. The next time I go shopping, I think I will look for a quiet clock. A clock that doesn’t mock me as I’m standing here all alone in a house with no activity. With each swing of the pendulum, it’s taunting me. It may sound like tick tock but in reality, it is saying, “you live alone. There is no one here to keep you company. You spend all your time talking to yourself how pathetic.” I get enough crap from the outside world I really don’t need my own clock making fun of me. Especially since, if I brought it up to anyone I would get a one-way ticket to the loony bin.