Waiting For The Other Shoe to Drop: Part 13-A

When Richard and I linked up for dinner, I tried really hard to let my guard down with him.

            “You look beautiful,” he said when we met at Chili’s –of all places—his choice. I smiled and smoothed my hand down the side of my simple black dress, which stopped at my ankles. The neck line, however, put my girls on display. I bet I did look beautiful to him.

            “Thanks,” I replied.

            We waited for about five minutes before we were led to a table behind the bar. “You were the talk of the office when you left today.”

            Rolling my eyes, I kept my sarcastic comment to myself. “Really?” I said as I picked up the menu. I really hated Chili’s food but I knew I was going to need a huge margarita.

            “What’s the deal with you and Amie?”

            Shrugging, I rolled my eyes and waved for the waiter. “I don’t have a problem with her; she has a problem with me. And to quote the great poet, Vanilla Ice, if you got a problem, you know I’ll solve them.”

            Rich laughed and shook his head. “You’re something else.”

            “I’d really like it if we didn’t talk about work anymore tonight. I got a three day cooling off period and thinking about that place when I don’t have to be there is going to piss me off.”

            He threw his hands up. “All right. Message received. What are you going to do with your time off, other than searching for a new job?”

            “Who said I’d be looking for a new job?” I laughed at my lie. “Maybe I’m going to buy a bunch of lingerie and wait for you to get off from work.”

            “That’s a great idea. But the last time we were together that way, it ended horribly. I never thought we’d sit down to have another meal together. Who knew orgasms made you cranky?”

            “Orgasm,” I said just as the waiter approached the table. Me and my big mouth.