"So, one shot, and two menus?" she asked, and I nodded.
"You're no fun," Justin said, as she left. "I was hoping to get you all liquored up."
He winked, and we both laughed.
I excused myself to go to the ladies room. When I came back, I saw the waitress leaning over him at our table. Both of them laughed, and then she looked up and saw me.
I smiled at her, and she excused herself and hurried into the kitchen.
"There you are, my dear," he said as I sat down again. My napkin had been refolded in my absence, and the dessert menus were placed perfectly on the table, the crisp parchment catching the light of the candles and seeming to just about glow.
I sighed in appreciation.
"This is one of the best dinners I've ever had," I said, smiling at him, tracing small patterns on his hand with the tip of my finger, enjoying the contact and the company.
"It's not over yet," he said. "Let's take a look at these, shall we?"
He ordered a plate of delicate macarons and I chose an amazing-sounding lemon crème brûlée.
The desserts were incredible. I shared bites of mine and enjoyed the contrast of the rich pudding and the crisp crunch of the caramel on top. He teased me and fed me a bite of one of his macarons, which exploded in a taste of orange and coconut on my tongue.
As I scraped the last tiny specs of custard from the dish, he signaled for a waitress again.
"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, the innocent question warring with the desire in his eyes.
"Beyond ready," I said, and shivered in anticipation.
The next morning, I woke up in Justin's king-sized bed and stretched luxuriously. It had been a good night.
A really good night, I thought, as I smiled at Justin's sleeping back.
I reached out and patted his shoulder.
"It's nine," I said. "I should probably get home."
He rolled over and pulled me close to him, kissing my cheeks, my forehead, my collarbone, as I giggled and squirmed.
"Come on, we need to brush our teeth," I said.
"Nope," he said, and laughed against my neck. Oh, he felt so good against me.
He was certainly awake now, I reflected, as I felt an insistent pressure against my hip. As he began to kiss lower and lower I relaxed into the sheets and enjoyed it. What a way to wake up.
I did get home by noon. As soon as I walked in the door, I wondered why I ever left Justin's apartment. My own was small and felt cramped, my queen-sized bed taking up more of the only bedroom than the king-sized bed took up of Justin's master suite.
It wasn't a bad apartment, really. A living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom was all I needed, and, to be honest, there were days I rattled around that much space by myself.
I had taken a little time and money to decorate when I'd moved in, but then I got busy with work and never quite finished. I had a decent couch and some nice throw pillows, but a ratty old blanket was usually tossed carelessly on one side from when I curled up and watched bad television alone.
We had only had breakfast, not lunch, so I opened the fridge. Cold pizza didn't sound very appetizing with the memory of that French dinner so fresh.
I could actually cook something, but it didn't seem worth it for just myself. I grabbed a slice of cold veggie pizza and nuked it for a minute. The crust got chewy and unpleasant, but it was better than cold. Marginally.
I flopped onto the couch with my plate and sighed.
As I ate pizza one-handed, I scrolled through my Netflix queue. Abso
lutely nothing was interesting. Trashy TV seemed even more garish after the pleasant tastes of luxury Justin gave me, and silly romantic comedies even sillier.