I’d gone to 2Hot the day before the trip to the Plastic Surgeon, a dress that Kat had called about waiting for me. While there, I asked if she had a restaurant that she might recommend, as I’d planned something special for Elle. Naturally she had one that was ideal for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the owner.
According to her, Chloe was a, “free spirit,” in every sense of the phrase, from her own personal style to the wholly eclectic setting, furnishings and menus of the restaurant. And, “…, since you’ll be there on a Saturday night, she’ll come to your table to introduce herself, ask if you’re enjoying your meal and if there is anything she could do to enhance your dining experience. I can promise she’ll love Elle and after you’re done charming her, she’ll tolerate you.” that line delivered with a smile.
By chance, when I called to make the reservation, it was Chloe who answered which gave me the opportunity to start the, “charming.” After a short back and forth, she confirmed the time and told me that she was, “…, looking forward to meeting us.” I didn’t mention Kat, fearing Elle might think I was setting something up.
Since I hadn’t told her anything about a wardrobe choice, only that we’d be going to dinner, I was looking forward to see what Elle would choose to wear. Since she’d be leaving from her house, I figured that her choices would be limited. Thus the dress and accessories purchase from 2Hot.
I’d also emailed Keith, the guy we’d met at 2Hot the day that Elle first exposed herself in public. He was the married school principal having an affair with one of his teachers. We’d had lunch with he and Amy, the teacher, and they invited us to join them some night at a club where we might find some, “adult,” fun.
His reply promised that they’d be there, but for us not to arrive until, “…, at the earliest, 10:30.”
I had no idea what kind of excuse Elle would give her husband, but I figured 10:30 wouldn’t give us a lot of time to get a feel for the club.
I’d made an 8:00 reservation thinking we’d sit at the bar and have a drink first, so I told Elle to meet me at 6:30. Good thing…, because at 7:05, I was ready to cancel the reservation and call it a night!
Just as I started my car, she came screeching into the parking lot, jumped out of her car and ran to mine. “Sorry, sorry…, sorry!” as she closed the door, out of breath and completely frazzled.
“I was about to leave,” I said, “figured Todd had put his foot down.”
“He did,” still trying to catch her breath, “but it was on Kim.”
A deep breath and then, “She wanted to go out with her girlfriends…, to the Mall. But, they all needed a ride there, one of the fathers going to pick them up. Kim asked her father and he said, “No.” I was in my bathroom getting ready and then Kim burst through the door…, in tears!
“It’s so unfair….” After she’d explained everything I asked Todd why he wouldn’t give them a ride? He said, “If they were going someplace to do something…, maybe I would. But they’re just going to hang out, probably get in trouble…, and anyway, she’s too young to be hanging out at the Mall till it closes.”
“That made me mad,” she continued, so I asked him, “Can she go if I drop them off? She’s in the 8th grade and it’s what the kids do today. She’s never been in any trouble and neither have any of her friends. Just let her go.”
“He gave me a look and said, “I thought you were going out?”
“I am,” I told him, “but I’ll call Kathy and tell her I’ll be a few minutes late. So….”
“So he just waved his hand and I rushed…, got all the kids, went to the Mall,” deep breath, “and here I am.”
“Kathy knows and she’s good with whatever happens. I’m just going out with the girls.”
Looking at her…, hair and makeup looked great, like she’d spent some time getting ready, “…, and Todd?”
“He’s going over to TJ’s friend Tyler’s house, he and Tyler’s dad Frank are buddies and they’re going to watch a hockey game.”
“He didn’t notice how great you look…, to be going, “…, out with the girls?”
“Ohhh, thank you baby,” leaning across the center console and giving me a kiss, “and, no, he didn’t notice how I look because he never notices.”
With her wearing those nondescript slacks, bland sweater and clunky shoes…,
Nah…, even wearing the “Pilgrim,” clothes she use to sport, she was still a beautiful woman, so him not noticing had nothing to do with her.
Noticing me checking her out…, “I had something different to wear, but with Kim and…, I hope I’m not…, but I know I am….”
“It’s not a problem,” I told her, “look in the back seat.”
There was a garment bag hanging over the door and another bag on the seat.
“What’s that?” with a look of confusion.
“Something to wear to dinner,” I answered.
Kat had gotten in a delivery and the first item that she saw…, she knew it was designed for Elle!
The mini dress was a ataşehir escort bayan silver grey, almost, foil material that tied behind the neck, with a cowl front then fell to below her navel. Backless, the bottom was ruched, the material skin tight and so short that it barely covering her ass. Matching silver spiked heels and heavy silver bracelets finished the look.
Now it was just a question of where she would change clothes?
She decided on Burger King. And had I not thought to pick her up a long black coat sweater, the customers would have been in for a treat!
“Katmandu,” was the restaurant and my Kat couldn’t have been more on the money when she told me that Chloe’s fingerprints were all over the building. Actually located in the basement of an old factory building, the interior retained most of the 19th century brick, stone and hardwoods from its birth. From there, Chloe had decorated with sub Asian artifacts, which were everywhere. She’d utilized the unusual floor design, the space probably the former furnace room, setting the bar into a two step down area and then building up two other spaces, a large platform seating area and then a very small, two steps up mezzanine, with three two person tables, built into the side wall. With the exception of the bar area, all of the lighting was done in either faux ancient Asian tin hanging lights, or floor lamps of an Asian design. No two were the same.
And when the thin, wild haired woman who was looking suspiciously like Glenn Close’s, cartoon Cruella De Vil, from the, “101 Dalmatians” movie, greeted us at the door, I knew Kat had been right about that too!
Chloe was…, immediately smitten with Elle! She even untied the belt holding the coat sweater closed so she could ogle Elle’s body, which was barely sheathed in the silver wrapping. “My God,” she breathed, “you are an object of worship! I could only dream of having a body like yours!”
“Okay,” I thought, “just a little over the top!” But then it occurred to me that my friend Kat may have alerted her to the possibility of our making a reservation and that might have been…, or, maybe she was just being honest and was calling it as she saw it?
Elle in the meantime was blushing! Having this rather odd looking woman suddenly fawning wildly over her was completely unexpected and in her mind, completely undeserved. That said, she reverted to her lifelong habit of brushing it off with humility, just saying, “Thank you.”
Introducing herself, Chloe asked if we wanted to be seated immediately? After introducing ourselves and having her remark, “Oh yes, the flirt,” giving Elle a knowing smile, I told her, “No thank you. If it’s all the same to you, I think we’ll have a drink at the bar and enjoy the ambience.”
“Well you enjoy away and I’ll fetch you when your table is ready.”
Kind of unexpectedly, the bar was a bar, nothing extraordinary, except maybe for Nesbitt, one of the bartenders. Nesbitt was what my gay friends and relatives would call a, “Flamer.” Claiming to be Haitian, with a great Creole lilt, albeit a soft lisp. “Flamboyant,” would be the best way to describe him. One look at Elle and he swooned, “Sugar, mwen ta ka ale tou dwat pou yon newt avec ou…, si out a ban m ‘rad sa!” Then turning to me, “An you baby, dis boy wood be bangin straight pour one night, if dis sexy lady…, she gives me dat dress. Me man…, he be bangin dis boytoy sideways, me dressed like dat!”
Well…, despite Elle having no idea what he just told me, she joined he and I in a, “High Five,” and accepted the giggles from those seated around us.
I was beginning to think that Nesbitt was more Jamaican than Haitian, but that mattered little to Elle, or anyone else.
With order now somewhat restored, he leaned close to Elle and purred, “I nose ou has no thinkin what you be drinkin, so me’s be makin my berry special drink for a lady that be wantin some sexy doin’s dis night.”
My opinion on Nesbitt’s ancestry had now moved somewhere about a thousand miles north of Jamaica, Georgia or maybe South Carolina? No self
respecting gay Rasta man would be laying the shit on, “…, dis tick!”
He made a big show of making her a, “Lemon Drop,” Martini. Grey Goose, “Le Citron,” fresh squeezed lemon juice, Triple Sec, super fine sugar in the drink and on the rim of the martini glass. “De na sa yo kou lannwit I yo pral fe!” as he presented the concoction to her.
I had no idea what he’d said to her, or if he’d said anything other than a jumble of Creole sounding gibberish. Her reaction however was pure Elle!
“Merci beaucoup,” with a fine, “Continental,” flourish, then taking a sip.
Eyes growing wide, she put the glass down and gushed, “Oh my gawwdd…, this is incredible!”
We sat there for twenty five minutes, bantering with other customers, trading barbs with Nesbitt and joining the other bartender and assorted waitstaff in busting his balls. While Chloe may have been a bit, “rococo,” escort kadıöy herself, she’d put together a great team, all together as diffuse as the owner.
When Chloe came to, “fetch,” us, Nesbitt offered to make Elle a, “turd,” martini, but he was overruled by his boss, her telling Elle that I’d ordered something special, “…, for you to enjoy during dinner.”
Again, she made a show of accompanying us to our table, which involved a small parade through the dining room, Chloe leading Elle and I, Nesbitt following with our drinks and one of the waitstaff behind him with the menus.
Needless to say, Elle seemed to be drawing quite a bit of attention, her dress seemingly 99% more revealing than any other frock in the building! But then again, like the décor, the staff and the owner, nothing but the building itself, “…, was set in stone.”
The restaurant patrons were a varied mix of old, young and everything in between. For every Ivy League Professor and wife wearing Brooks Brothers, there were a couple of college kids wearing Hollister and The GAP, those in the middle clothed in Levis, Ralph Lauren shirts and jackets or sweaters.
Elle and I were no different…, she was just wearing a lot less than everyone else.
And, to accentuate that point, Chloe led us to the mezzanine level. Because the space was so narrow, the three tables were staggered, the first against the wall, the second against the railing and so on.
She seated us at the second table, Elle facing me, the main dining room to her left.
She was also facing a man sitting alone at the first table. My age, he looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him.
After the entourage left and Chloe had ordered us to, “…, enjoy your meal,”
I was waiting for our server when Elle leaned forward, both of her breasts ready to fall out of her dress, and said, “I can’t believe this restaurant! I’ve never been in any place this extravagant! Everything about it is perfect!”
“Then I guess we should hope that the meal lives up to the preview,” I replied.
Elle nodded and then turned to her left to survey the room. While she seemed to be content in doing that, I noticed her turning back towards me…, only to glance past me to her right…, where the single gentleman was sitting. Whatever he was doing to gain her attention, he seemed to be succeeding.
Then something else caught her eye, which turned out to be Nesbitt carrying a pewter wine bucket and Chloe with a champagne bottle swabbed in white linen.
“Moet, Imperial Rose…, 2003,” she announced, presenting the bottle to me.
I nodded, Elle sitting with her mouth hanging open.
As was her style, Chloe made a spectacle of popping cork, Nesbitt following in his own inimitable fashion, presented her with a champagne flute, into which she poured a small amount for me to sample. After going through the motions, I nodded my approval and she poured a half glasses for each of us.
After another, “Enjoy,” from her and a, “Bon Manje,” from Nesbitt, they departed…, but not before Chloe asked the man behind me, “And you Carl, how was your dinner?”
While I couldn’t see him, he was easily identifiable by his voice, “As always Chloe my dear…, you’ve outdone yourself. And that’s doubly true tonight with your seating of this lovely couple on the mezzanine!”
Carl was the longtime, “prime time anchorman,” on the top rated local news television station. He also hosted a Sunday morning, “political,” roundtable and was the, “Master of Ceremony,” for numerous charity, social and political gatherings.
Single, he was considered to be, “THE Bon Vivant,” around the city and state by the local newspaper’s society writers.
“Couple my ass,” I said to myself, knowing he’d been giving Elle the full, “Do you know who I am?” treatment.
Obviously, she didn’t because, whatever his charm, it had worn off and she was now paying 100% of her attention to me.
“Not only is this place unbelievable, but so are you. This dress, the champagne…, this is all just….”
“It’s all just started,” I replied, “its dinner. It’s our first, “real,” date and I wanted it to be special. Let’s just enjoy it and look forward to the rest of the evening.”
Getting up, she took a step towards me, leaned across the table and kissed me. It was an innocent move on her part, done to show appreciation for my efforts. Unfortunately…, or maybe not, she showed a lot more than just appreciation because the lean forward loosed her left breast from the dress, an accident that she magnified by her, truly, not realizing that her tit was hanging out!
No doubt Carl noticed…, and probably anyone who’d been watching her since we sat down, Elle visible to 90% of the tables in the dining room!
I waited a moment to point out the indiscretion, a jab at Mr. Bon Vivant sitting behind me.
When I finally whispered, “Baby…,” and looked down at her chest, she surprised me by looking down…, maltepe escort then looking up at me, a smile…, and then her eyes cut to the right, to see if Carl had noticed, which according to her he had, his mouth hanging open, before looking back at me, making a kissing movement with her lips, then pushing the, “runaway,” mammary back into the dress.
Carl got up and left after that, the rest of the meal uneventful…, well except for the dinner itself, which was excellent.
Elle ate every bit of her fish, drank most of the champagne and when I asked if she was interested in dessert or an after dinner drink, she said, “Both!”
With the answer to her, “What’s, Crème Brulee?” proving to be another winner and one “Irish coffee” to, finally, finish her dining experience, I was ready to leave. The only problem…, getting her to leave without falling over!
Insisting that she could make it, even Chloe, who’d come to the table with the check, seemed doubtful that Elle would make it off the mezzanine, never mind to the door! While I took my time paying and she took her time returning, a big glass of ice water in between, we managed to get Elle to the exit, the valet attendant holding the car door for her. After “air kisses” all around and Chloe holding her coat sweater, Elle turned to get into the car, but instead “fell” backwards into the seat. Giggling uncontrollably, she tried to right herself, but only made thinks worse, as she slid off the seat into the foot well. While attempting…, and failing to push herself up, the valet attendant came to her rescue. Reaching under her arms he pulled her upright and got her into a sitting position, only to find that the bottom of her dress was almost above her hips and the top of the dress wide open, both her tits and crotch completely exposed!
Still hovering over her, one thing was certain…, the valet attendant wasn’t going anywhere!
Until Chloe called out, “Michael!”
That ended that.
I thanked him, gave him a $20 and took the sweater from his boss. After apologizing for the tenth time…, Chloe blame herself for Elle’s condition, we actually kissed each other on the cheek and said, “Good night.”
Less than an hour later…, and two more glasses of ice water, Elle was reasonably sober and ready for, “Eden Redux,” the club where we were to meet Matt and Amy. The other thing I’d done in my correspondence with Matt, was swear him to secrecy. Neither Elle nor Amy were to know that we’d set the date up, our rendezvous pure serendipity.
Strangely, “Eden Redux,” was only blocks from, “Katmandu,” my side trip to the coffee house to get Elle the ice water causing a mile long detour. But it was a worthwhile detour!
And closeness in proximity wasn’t the only thing that Katmandu and Eden Redux had in common. Like the restaurant, the club had a very avant-garde owner, another female, this one appropriately named, Margaux.
(What was it with these names? I guess in the restaurant/entertainment business, “Mary” or “Jane,” wouldn’t cut it!)
As it turned out, like Chloe, Margaux had her own style, hers less to do with the appearance and ambiance of the club and more to do with what the club promised, “…, a stress free, swingers lifestyle environment, where sensual singles and couples can find fun, passion and romance in a truly spectacular setting!” While it sounded a little bombastic to me, I was willing to give it a shot since Elle had suggested just that.
The building was another brick and stone former manufacturing structure, this one very much smaller than that which housed, “Katmandu.” What it lacked in, “footprint,” however, “Eden” made up by taking up both floors of the two story structure. Through the canopied entrance, a foyer contained a desk where a young lady sat, offering a nice welcoming smile, informing me of the $30, “couples,” charge. After paying she then stamped each of our hands so we could come and go as we pleased from then on. While I had an idea why that was the policy, the sign above the desk proved my assumption, declaring that:
“ANY PERSON FOUND TO BE POSSESSING ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES, OF ANY KIND, ON THIS PREMISIS WILL BE EXPLELED AND SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE ARREST AND PROSECUTION!
Couldn’t have made that any clearer, which explained why most of the partiers were parked across the street.
Once stamped, the foyer opened into a very nice bar area with giant screen TVs, large overstuffed leatherette covered chairs, love seats and benches occupying the center and walls of the room. There were twenty three people in the room when we entered, (I counted) and none of them were Matt or Amy.
Unlike Katmandu, the ages of the customers in the bar seemed much tighter. The majority seemed to be on the 25-40 range, some looking younger, none looking as old as myself. And that applied to the fashions that people were wearing also. While their website listed, “denim,” as, “inappropriate,” the majority of the men and women seemed to be wearing just that, the men in long sleeved shirts, the women in a variety of blouses and tops, only a few that might be considered, “provocative.”
Despite the flaunting of the rules, everyone was clean and neat looking, no one wearing anything that looked out of place at the bar.