Cafe Romance

by Curtis Bennett

  “Well, keep it up. I’m going to get ready,” Leslie said, walking into the bedroom looking sultry. Just the way he liked her. She was wearing a white blouse and smoke colored pantyhose. Though she had no intention of returning to him on a permanent basis, she wasn’t adverse to the notion of relieving a little sexual tension with her estranged husband when the opportunity availed itself. Besides, she was feeling horny as hell, right now. Perhaps sometime after dinner she would offer him desert, she mused.

  “My God, you look stunning,” he said, almost breathlessly as he followed her.

  “Thank you,” she replied with a toothy smile. “You’re pretty hot looking yourself.”

  “Not as hot as you,” he said, still sizing her up.

  “My, you’re certainly full of compliments tonight.”

  “I am just calling it as I see it,” he chuckled, as his eyes swept over her approvingly for the third time.

  She laughed. “Look, I’m going to get dressed. Go into the living room until I’m through. I want to surprise you with my new outfit. I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

  “Take your sweet time,” he murmured, all the while thinking how wonderful it was to be in the company of his beautiful wife, especially with those exceptionally pretty legs of hers. Obliging her, he reluctantly left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  She reappeared forty-five minutes later.

  Wide-eyed, he gazed approvingly at the form fitting red dress that draped her body. It accentuated her form to a degree that enthralled him. He also took pleasure in gazing at her sensuous looking mouth. Her lips were painted in red. Wet looking, her lips were moist and inviting. The seductive form fitting dress, her long dark brown hair, which draped low over one eye, her moist succulent lips, the gold ankle bracelet; the high heeled shoes, her spicy perfume…the whole damn package seemed far too much for one man to absorb and at one time.

  It had been two months since he last saw his wife and longer than that since they were intimate with one another. It was going to take a lot of effort and will power on his part to pry his eyes off of Leslie. Her low cut dress, which accentuated her generously rounded breasts, was enough by itself to raise the dead.

  “Are you all right, Kurt?” she asked, as her eyes searched his face in an effort to reach into his thoughts…thoughts she was aware she was manipulating.

  “I’m fine,” he lied, coming out of his self-induced trance. “I was just thinking how much I missed you.”

  “Well, don’t think too hard or we’ll miss dinner,” she said. “You forget I know that look in your eyes and what it means.”

  “And what exactly does it mean?”

  “It means you are hungry but not for food.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Quite so.”

  Kurt gave her a sheepish grin before giving her a hug. It did not escape his attention that she was still wearing her wedding ring. For a man looking for any signs from her that would give him hope or point to a possible reunion, this was as good a sign as any. Yes indeed. This woman was worth fighting to get back, he told himself.

  Still, it continued to bother him not knowing what it was he had supposedly done to make her want to leave him in the first place. One day he hoped to get to the bottom of it all. Right now, he had a dinner date with an exceptional and appealing woman.

  The couple exited the hotel holding hands. Just like old times. Walking over to the rental they paused briefly to inhale the night air. Orlando was known to permeate with mouth-watering aromas from various restaurants, especially this time of day. And tonight was no exception. They entered the car and drove over to International Drive, a few miles away. They parked the car and walked along, again hand-in-hand, pausing occasionally to take in the sights and sounds of the numerous businesses and restaurants and tourists they passed by.

  Two blocks down, they came upon an upscale grilled steak and seafood restaurant. The aroma of charbroiled steak was more than enticing. They decided to dine there.

  First to arrive from the menu was a fresh bowl of Neptune salad, served in a chilled bowl shaped like a seashell. New England clam chowder was served next. Later the diminutive waitress brought out the main course on a large round serving tray.

  With forks and knives at the ready, and a healthy appetite, the couple indulged their ambitious and delicious combination charbroiled steak and seafood platter, which included two broiled lobster tails, six jumbo shrimp and scallops, in a seasoned butter sauce, and side orders of Hawaiian grilled vegetables. Their meal was capped with chilled wine. The soft background music and soft lighting set a romantic mood.

  Throughout the evening, the couple traded glances and smiles. He found her presence warm and comforting. It was as if she had never left. She enjoyed his company and good time. After dessert, chocolate marble cheesecake, they took a romantic stroll under a moonlit sky.

  Later they drove back to the hotel. Not ready to turn in, they lounged around the swimming pool area on lawn chairs for a short while. Live music from the club inside could be heard where they sat. The music accentuated what had been up to this point, a very romantic evening. Stealing another glance, he was convinced more than ever that she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. Capping off the evening with two Sex on the Beach cocktails, the couple retreated to their posh suite where they delighted in kissing and touching and making wild passionate love this side of and beyond the twilight hours. Just like they used to do.

  The next two days and nights that followed were spent visiting downtown Orlando, Sea World, and Disney’s nightclub scene, known as Pleasure Island. They also hit a host of restaurants, shopping centers, and outlet malls. On their last full day in Orlando the two took in a surprisingly entertaining romantic comedy. It was just what the doctor ordered, he thought. Most of all, Leslie appeared to be enjoying herself. Wonderful! He thought. But were his efforts enough to convince her to return to him? After all, the sole purpose behind this romantic getaway was to reconnect with Leslie.

  As always, all good things must come to an end. But why? He pondered.

  “I’m ready to start loading the car whenever you are,” she said from her seat on the edge of the bed, her shapely legs available for his eyes to feast on.

  “What time does your plane leave, again?” he asked

  Standing up, she shrugged. “Two o’clock this afternoon, I believe.”

  “Well, it’s just a little after nine thirty. Considering they want you there at the terminal at least an hour and half before flight departure, I’d say that leaves us about a good two and a half hours to kill. Besides, we’re only fifteen minutes from the airport.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Leslie asked, as she zipped up her travel bag.

  “We can drive over to Wal-Mart first and get some things. I’m talking vacation t-shirts. Hey, remember that dainty little Korean restaurant in downtown Orlando, the one on Colonial Drive? The one we frequented so much during our two-week honeymoon. Well, how about having lunch there. That is, if they are still in business.”

  “Sounds fine with me,” Leslie replied.

  “I’ll start loading up the car, okay?”

  “That’s a good idea,” she answered. “I’m going to blow-dry my hair real quick. Then I’ll be ready to check out.”

  Kurt made several trips out to the car to load their luggage when he returned to the suite for the last time. Leslie was standing in front of the wide bathroom mirror patting her hair into shape. She was wearing a short black slip and matching bra.

  He decided to ease up behind her shapely form and embrace her gently. When he did he pressed against her soft bottom and began to sway their bodies side to side. Within seconds he had grown quite aroused. Checking out was not on his mind. Not now. But checking in was.

  Looking into the mirror Leslie could see that his handsome gaze was as soft as a caress. At the same time, she could feel his rising nature. It was anything but soft. More than anything, she found it quite stimul
ating. With closed eyes, his chiseled face appeared serene to her. For a second she gave in to the moment and the passion stirring inside her, as she leaned back and closed her own eyes. But the moment was brief.

  Moved by her proximity and scented skin, he sighed. He then left a trail of hot kisses along her warm neck. But the moment he whispered, “God, I love you so much, Leslie,” into her ear, she pulled away from him.

  What in hell! He thought, with both hands resting on his hip. He followed her until he stood inches away from her averted eyes. When she finally looked at him, it was brief. His eyes chased hers but she avoided direct contact with them. When he finally caught up to her, he saw a pensive look that a moment before was more sensuous in tone. “What’s wrong Leslie?” he asked, feeling emotionally pricked.

  “Kurt, I’m sorry but I just don’t feel that way about you anymore,” she said as she turned and walked into the bedroom area. Storing her comb and other hair products away nervously, she murmured, as though an afterthought, “You know, I wondered whether or not coming here was a good idea.”

  “But you did come and you had a great time. Did you or did you not?”

  “Kurt, I had a wonderful time. I truly did,” she almost sighed. “Like I said, I know that look. But I’m not in that frame of mind anymore.”

  Kurt lowered his head. The pain had returned, and in buckets full.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you but I don’t see us getting back together again. I thought you understood this.”

  Inside he was both furious and hurt. Conflicted was a better term. But he could not allow himself to jeopardize any chance of getting back with her by losing his composure. He wanted to build upon the goodwill he had already established with her until he could slowly change the emotional tide in his favor. Damn, the things we do for love, he thought.

  In a calm tone he said, “Look, I apologize if I upset you. That was not my intention. But I cannot apologize for the way I feel about you. I’m still in love with you, Leslie. That’s just the way it is. Perhaps one day I will be able to tune you out, as you have done with me. But right now, I just don’t know how to do that. So, if we have to part ways, I want us to part on a positive note. And I hope we can.”

  “I think we can,” Leslie said, easing into a smile.

  “As you were saying, it’s time for us to check out.”

  “Yes, it’s about that time, isn’t it?”

  Many events influenced Yvette’s life but none changed her more than that incident just a year earlier. It was Friday the 13th as she fondly remembered. It was a hectic afternoon at the illustrative Brock-Meyer Vacation Resort Café she worked at as an assistant chef as preparations kicked in for an important political banquet they were hosting. It was just as busy in the kitchen area where she hurried from table to table garnishing each entrée with great detail and care. Seven years removed from high school, she was about to celebrate her fifth anniversary working there in only a matter of days. It was a passing thought, however. For the moment, she was preoccupied with preparing for this banquet. And time was running out. The mayoral candidate would be arriving with his entourage within the hour and she wanted to ensure that everything met her approval.

  Rounding the corner of the prepping table, she took a quick glance at the clock on the white tiled wall and decided it was time to put salad into eighty-six chilled wooden salad bowls. “Adrian, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get the salad,” she remembered telling her assistant.

  Pausing to wash her hands, she entered the walk-in reefer to retrieve a large pan of Romanian-style Coleslaw when she turned on her heel and slipped on a butter patty she had not noticed when she first entered the cold storage unit. In that very instance, she dropped to the hard cold metal floor with a thud, as the slaw scattered over both of her lower legs and the surrounding area. “Shiiittt!” she remembered crying out, as she clenched her jaws. The pain radiating from her knee was sharp, sudden and excruciating. She also remembered Adrian popping her head inside the cold space, her eyes wide as twin moons. “What in hell’s name happened, Yvette?” she asked.

  “I slipped on a damn butter patty,” she remembered replying, her embarrassment immense but not as immense as the pain.

  “Are you alright, girl?” Adrian said, coming to Yvette’s aid.

  “I’m not sure, Adrian. I’m feeling some serious pain.”

  “Here, let me help you up.”

  Yvette remembered being driven to the local hospital and waiting in the cold emergency room, for what seemed like hours. X-rays were taken and developed. In time, an orthopedic doctor entered the room and began to examine her leg.

  Afterwards, the grim faced physician reluctantly told an anxious Yvette that the X-rays showed that she had torn a cartilage and several ligaments in her knee and would ultimately have to undergo surgery. Within a month, the physician insisted.

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Yvette instinctively touched her throbbing knee with her trembling hand. It wasn’t the kind of news she wanted to hear. Not after all she had gone through to get to this point in her professional life. Dammit, how could fate deal me such a terrible hand? She cursed in silence. There had to be a divine reason for this, she reasoned.

  Outwardly, she put on a brave face. Inwardly, acute nervousness seethed inside. But by mid-week of the following week, she had found the inner strength to undergo the surgical procedure. Dammit, Yvette! She mused. Why did this disaster have to happen at a time when I’m not seeing anyone? Sure would have been nice to have a handsome man doting over me, she thought. Especially a very considerate man of means. Flowers. Colorful balloons. Boxes of chocolate candy. Gentle hugs, comforting words, and sweet kisses. But she promised she’d make the most of her convalescence. All eight weeks of it, most of it being immobile.

  The one comfort she garnished from the incident was that her Workman’s Compensation Insurance covered 80% of her income during her convalescence. The remainder was covered by sick leave she had on the books. Since Workman’s Compensation was not taxable, and with sick leave filling in the remaining deficit, her check was much much larger than it normally was after taxes. No wonder the politicians put into place the peeling off of their constituent’s taxes from their paychecks automatically rather than having them pay them outright, she thought. They’re afraid of people rebelling after finding out how much of their pay is actually going to government and government waste.

  A self-motivator, after two months of intense physical therapy, she was well enough to return to her trade. But the long hours of standing and heavy lifting required of a gourmet chef proved too much for her surgically repaired knee. On top of that, she found herself popping pain pill after pain pill, 800 mg at that. It wasn’t long before she was forced to rethink her future in the food business. Fortunately, she was already enrolled in the MBA program at the university, which made the prospect of making a career change at this point in her life appear less daunting. Inside of a year she received her MBA degree, and thanks to her connections in the restaurant business, she signed on with her present employer in Tampa. Though the job centered on the restaurant business, she was playing a different role this time and in a different capacity.

  Yvette loved the restaurant business, the people, the food, the challenges, and, of course, the money – forty-five grand a year – her starting salary. The business chain she kept the books for revolved around six five-star restaurants. Her office was housed at the spacious Tampa Bay location. There was a restaurant in the Orlando area, one in St Augustine, Florida, one in the Daytona Beach, Florida area and two in the Ft Lauderdale/Miami area. Yvette managed the books for the Tampa, Daytona Beach and the Orlando restaurants via computer. Currently under construction in the St Cloud/Kissimmee tourist area was a 150 seat capacity split-level restaurant. Yvette was slated to manage the books there, too. In addition, the Florida based company had plans of opening four more restaurants over the next two years. Two in North Florida and two more in the South Florida/Key West area. A
t that point they would hire an additional accountant.

  Great plans, no doubt, she thought when the expansion plans were announced. Growth meant more patrons, which meant more jobs and more profits, which meant a bigger pay raise for her. But she had plans of her own. Quietly she was stashing away an egg nest of her own in hopes of opening a gourmet restaurant one day. Her lifelong goal was to own an entire chain of five-star restaurants. With her MBA in hand, she was that much closer to her dream. But for the moment, she was content to begin and end her day at the upscale Café Le Soir, which she often referred to as the Café. Besides, the food was kind’a good, she’d muse every once in a while to her friends in jest.

  Kurt gazed up at his cousin Dwayne as he paced the carpeted floor like a recently caged cougar. His cousin’s rounded jaw was tight and visibly tense. The two men had started out having a friendly discussion about Kurt’s social and romantic life. More so, the lack of the two. But there were times the debate got heated. Kurt reminded his cousin throughout the discussion that this was his life and he shouldn’t interfere. Dwayne wasn’t having that.

  “So what are you really trying to say, cous?” Kurt calmly asked, as he leaned forward in his chair, his arms draped lazily over his knees.

  “Kurt, what I’m trying to say is that you’re acting as though you’re pussy whipped. And may I add whipped with a capital W!”

  Crouching down before his cousin’s solemn form, until he was at eye level, Dwayne paused. Before him sat a man he greatly admired and respected above all others. And it pained him to the core to see his cousin suffering a bad case of the Blues.

  “Look at you, man. You’re holed up in this joint like a Howard Hughes recluse. You’ve separated, with no girlfriend to turn to, and you have no social life. And from what I’m hearing, you’ve turned down every woman who has given you the key to the cookie store. I’m telling you, Leslie has got you in such an emotional rut you don’t know if you’re coming or going.”