Waiting For The Other Shoe To Drop: Part 13 B

“Wh-what can I get you two to drink?” he asked.

            “I’ll have a Grand Patron margarita and a shot of Patron,” I said. I needed to put something in my mouth – other than my foot. The waiter quickly turned away from me as if he was so not trying to look at me. Rich ordered a Coke and I almost felt bad about all the alcohol I’d just ordered. Like I said, almost.

            “What was that about an orgasm, without an s?” Rich asked, leaning into me once the waiter left. “I know I felt you come more than once.”

            “Let me quote another contemporary poet, you have big ego.”

            “Thanks. Because you know ego was a . . .”

            “I’m not talking about that. Anyway, are we going to be bed buddies or is this supposed to develop into something deeper?”

            “That’s a good question. Are you going to let me in and get to know the real Mimi or do I get the sarcastic and caustic girl?”

            “If you think I’m all of that, why bother?” When I saw the waiter approaching, I stopped talking. He looked as if he was about to drop our drinks and I needed that shot now.

            He set the drinks on the table and asked if we were ready to order. “Give us a few minutes,” Rich said as I gulped my Patron.

            It burned. “One more,” I said to the waiter. “Thanks.”

            He nodded and headed back to the bar. I turned to Rich and propped my chin on my fist. “So,” I probed.

            “I like you. I like your style and even that attitude of yours. I feel like there’s more to you than that, though.”

            I took a sip of my margarita. “Really?”

            “Come on, I’ve been building up the nerve to talk to you for a while and I’m glad I finally stopped being a punk and did it. You’re a firecracker. I like your heat.”

            “You like my pussy.” Damn it! The waiter was back again. He heard everything.