I did a little internet research, and I found what was purported to be an upscale Nashville steakhouse. I figured that the prices alone would weed out some of the riff-raff. What I found was a place called Jeff Ruby’s. It was downtown. It got great reviews and was a bit pricey. Nothing too over the top, but sufficiently upscale. It seemed like just the ticket and something Mallory would enjoy.
I made reservations for Friday night, right around 7 PM, not too early, not too late.
As expected, Mallory primped and fussed over her appearance for the better part of 90 minutes before declaring that she was satisfied. Her makeup was perfect, her long, back-length hair shimmering, with just a tiny bit of a wave in it. The light caressed the blondish gray mane that cascaded over her shoulders.
The dress fit her perfectly as if it were custom-made, hugging her in all the right spots and accentuating her curvaceous figure. She was absolutely stunning. And while I’m sure I am overly biased, she looked irresistible. It was exactly what the evening and the wager required.
As one might expect, Mallory took an inordinate amount of time getting herself ready for our evening out.
“You’re certainly taking your time,” I commented, teasing her just a bit. “It’s almost as if you want me to win the bet.”
“That’s not even remotely true,” Mallory rebutted. “We’re going to a nice place, and I simply wish to present myself properly,” she answered, checking her makeup for the tenth time.
“Oh!” I replied, laughing. “Is that what they call it these days?”
“Just get the keys and let’s go before I change my mind.”
Mallory was very quiet on the ride to the restaurant. She fidgeted in her seat, adjusting her dress, and again checking her makeup in the mirror of her compact. I didn’t attempt to start any conversation as I figured she was trying to create some kind of game plan for our night out.
We arrived and entered the restaurant, about 90 minutes earlier than our dinner reservation, and were directed to the bar. We were seated at a high-top table almost in the center of the room. I spotted an empty table in a somewhat dimly lit corner, and I leaned over and whispered to Mallory.
“There’s my table, over there,” I said, motioning to the corner.
“I can’t really see you from here,” Mallory said, looking over her shoulder at my intended perch.
“That’s kind of the idea,” I replied. “In this way, I can see you, but you can have a sense of being on your own.”
“This is making me a bit nervous,” she answered.
“Look, have a drink, and if nothing happens, then nothing happens. If something does, then just try and have fun with it,” I answered. “Try and enjoy yourself. We’re just here to have dinner. You look fantastic, by the way.”
Mallory gave me a look of disapproval and slight apprehension.
“Okay, with that, let’s see what happens,” I stated, rising from our table. “I’m gonna go sit over there before somebody else does,” I said.
Her expression never changed.
I walked across the room and seated myself in the corner with my back against the wall, facing Mallory’s table. The waitress came over and I ordered two drinks, sending one over to Mallory.
Before long, even with everyone coming and going through the bar area, I noticed a man in his mid-40s enter the room. He surveyed his surroundings, and with hardly even a pause, approached Mallory’s table.
“Excuse me, forgive the intrusion, but are you alone?”
“I am right now,” Mallory replied. “Can I help you with something?”
“Now that you mention it, I think there might be…” he said, in a very charming way. “You see,” he began, leaning forward as if he were about to tell Mallory a secret. “I have this terrible habit of ordering two drinks at a time, but I only drink one of them.”
“No kidding? That’s a real dilemma,” Mallory answered.
“I know. It can be really embarrassing. I get all these strange looks, sitting alone with two drinks in front of me,” he said, playing into the conversation. “It probably gives people the impression that I’ve been stood up.”
“Oh my gosh. I’ll bet it does. But how can I help with that?”
“Well, you could do me the favor and the honor of drinking that second drink, just for the sake of appearances, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied. “I’m usually willing to help out a person in need.”
“I see…a real humanitarian,” he said, acting as if he were contemplating a problem. “Well, that being the case, it seems that we share a different predicament with the same outward appearance,” he added, pushing his second drink across the small table in front of her. “That’s a beautiful dress. It looks fantastic on you. If you don’t mind my saying so”
“You can only see the top of it,” Mallory answered.
“Fair enough. Let me rephrase that. What I’m able to see of your dress looks fantastic,” he said, correcting himself for the sake of accuracy.
“Well, thank you. My husband picked it out for me,” Mallory replied.
“Your husband?”
“Yes, my husband,” Mallory confirmed. “Normally, I’d never wear a dress like this. You don’t think I’d dress like this and come sit alone in a restaurant bar, do you?” Mallory stated. “Now that would most certainly give people the wrong idea.”
“That’s not what I was hoping, but I guess I’m not too terribly surprised. So, since I can only see the top of your dress, you wouldn’t perhaps be willing to indulge me and let me see the whole thing, would you? I mean, just so I can confirm that my first observation was correct.”
Mallory afforded him a suspicious look.
“Oh, come on…just to satisfy my curiosity,” he implored.
“I’ll tell you what, I’m going to use the ladies’ room and you can have your look then. Will that work?”
“It’s a deal. So, tell me, where’s your husband now?”
Without answering, Mallory grabbed her purse, stood, and adjusted her dress to go to the ladies’ room.
“He should be here any time now. We’re meeting here for dinner.”
“Oh, well, nonetheless, your husband has very good taste.”
“He picks out a lot of my clothes.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dress,” he offered, smiling.
“Oh my, aren’t you clever. You’re certainly being very forward, aren’t you?” Mallory commented.
“It certainly beats being backward,” he replied. “ And I feel compelled to say, the dress does do a fantastic job of complementing your considerable and admirable attributes.”
“Gosh, such brazen compliments. I don’t know if my husband would appreciate that.”
“Ah, well….it must be the drink talking,” he said, holding up his glass. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. If you recall, it is actually my table,” Mallory answered.
“So it is, so it is… Then I think the only gentlemanly thing to do is to stay here and make certain that no one steals it.”
“Such unselfish consideration. I’m overwhelmed.”
“We’ll see about that,” the stranger replied, smiling with a growing confidence.
Mallory turned and headed toward the ladies’ room.
He produced his phone and quickly took a picture of her walking away from the table.
Once she had vanished into the hallway containing the restroom doors, I rose from my corner table and casually followed behind. I caught up with her waiting outside the ladies’ room door.
“I don’t like this!” she exclaimed.
“I told you, someone would take the bait. And even quicker than I thought. So, do I win the bet?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, yes, I give up,” Mallory replied, no longer caring about the wager. “You don’t have to be so happy about it. He’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Is that because I’m here or just because he’s a creep?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s behaving very politely and he’s trying to be charming, but I can tell that he’s being very flirtatious and he’s looking at me like I’m dessert.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I challenged. “Let’s say you were single. Then what?”
“I don’t know… maybe I’d let him have my number or something. But that’s it.”
“There, I’ve proven my point. You always have been and remain a Hottie,” I said, with a degree of triumph in my hushed voice.
“Okay, okay…so what if I did give him my number. That doesn’t mean he’d call,” Mallory argued, not willing to admit total defeat. “He might just accept the number to be polite.”
“Really?” I retorted, amazed at her unwillingness to admit the obvious.
“Yes, really,” she replied defiantly.
“Then give him your number,” I suggested.
“Then what!?” Mallory replied in a hushed but incredulous tone.
“Okay, then don’t give him your number,” I replied. “Do whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Mallory stood silently, contemplating her next move. “I feel kind of bad. He seems like a pretty nice guy, even with all the flirtatious bravado.” Mallory said, thinking out loud. “Do I just not go back to the table?”
“Well, I won the bet, now, whatever happens now is up to you. What do you want to do?”
“Oh, gosh, I don’t know. I feel bad. I don’t want to just leave him sitting there,” she said. “I feel like I owe him some kind of explanation. I think I’m going to tell him the truth,” she said, thoughtfully.
“Okay. That sounds reasonable,” I answered.
“What do you want me to do?” she said, overthinking.
“You go back to your table. Just pick up where you left off, and I’ll join you shortly. I’ll tell him,” I suggested. “It’ll get you off the hook.”
“Then we can have dinner, I’m starving. I have to eat something,” Mallory replied.
“If I see him making any moves like he’s pissed off or something, I’ll be there like a shot,” I assured her.
“You better be, but I don’t think he’ll be angry. Maybe a little disappointed but not angry.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see soon enough,” I answered, rubbing her shoulder.
“You go back to your table, and I’ll be there in a minute. I actually do have to go pee,” Mallory said, heading for the door.
So, back to my corner table I went, and kept an eye on her pseudo suitor, in a manner of speaking. He did peck at his phone a bit, which is normal by today’s standards, and he looked over his shoulder a couple of times, expectantly, at the archway that led to the restrooms.
Before too long, his patience was rewarded. Mallory and her plunging dress entered the room, flowing gracefully back over to her table.
“I must say, I very much enjoyed that,” he said, standing as Mallory took her seat.
“My going to the ladies’ room?”
“No. Watching you walk back. That’s one lucky dress.”
“Ah ha…well. Speaking of my dress…” Mallory began.
“Yes, let’s speak about your dress,” he replied, sounding enthusiastic.
“My husband brought it for me.”
“I know, you already mentioned that.”
“Well, my husband bought it for a reason,” she said, beginning to sound a bit guilty.
“I can see that too.”
“My husband, well, and I, were curious to see if I was unescorted…if anyone would…approach me, I guess,” she said, looking down at her drink.
“Uh uh,” was the somewhat dejected response. “And I was the first taker?”
“Well, yeah. We weren’t trying to be cruel or anything. It was just, kind of, an experiment,” she confessed.
“Oh, I see. So, where’s your husband now?” the stranger answered with a detectable tone of disappointment.
“He’s sitting at the table across the room…in the corner.”
“Wow,” he said dejectedly, “What a setup. And I was the perfect fool, wasn’t I?”
“Oh, good grief, now I feel just terrible,” Mallory answered, suddenly feeling very guilty.
“It’s okay…really it is,” he said, almost convincingly. “I was just here to have dinner. No reservations, so I came to the bar to wait for a table,” he explained. “And…and…I thought I might just have had a lucky break,” he admitted. “You know, one of those one-in-a-lifetime moments.”
“Wait a second,” Mallory began. “You’re not meeting anyone?”
“Nope, sadly, I’m not…table for one,” he confessed.
Mallory immediately flashed on the “Lonely Only” table at another restaurant that she and I frequented. That was the moment when I arrived at “her” table.
“Hello, my name’s Richard. I’m her husband,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m guessing that Mallory somewhat explained what was going on here?”
“Uh…hello,” he said, kind of unsure and shaking my hand. “It’s nice to meet you…sort of…I mean, this isn’t in my wildest dreams how…” he said, trailing off, obviously feeling awkward and uncertain.
“I apologize for the circumstances. I know they were terribly misleading and quite unfair,” I said.
“Honestly,” he began, “I was just here to have dinner…”
“Hey, no one’s accusing you of anything,” I said, taking the seat next to Mallory. “If anyone’s owed an apology, I’m quite certain that it’s you.”
“There’s no apology necessary,” he began. “My company is setting up a satellite business here in town, so I drop in once a month or so to check on progress. I have meetings in the morning, so this is just something of a quick overnighter. I just didn’t want to have dinner alone.”
“There’s really no need for you to explain,” Mallory said, trying to ease his discomfort.
“I agree,” I added. “It’s really not your place to apologize or offer any explanation. The apology should come from us.”
“And since you’re looking for a dinner partner, why don’t you join us?” Mallory suggested. “It’s the least we could do.”
“You know, Mallory’s right, it’s the least we could do. Would you care to join us for dinner?” I offered.
“I really shouldn’t. I mean, that wasn’t at all the intention of this, um, experiment,” he replied. “I really don’t wish to intrude.”
“We’ve extended an invitation. It’s not an intrusion,” Mallory said, in a genuine tone of voice.
“We’d be happy if you choose to join us. It’s no imposition whatsoever,” I offered.
“Well, that being the case, I suppose it would be rude of me to decline,” he said, genuinely smiling.
“Perfect, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check on the table,” I said, getting up and searching for the maître d’.
“It was very kind of you both to extend the dinner invitation,” Mallory’s guest said.
“Oh, it’s the least we could do,” she answered. “Honestly, I didn’t really anticipate being approached by anyone, so, well, polite, funny, cultured, well spoken…feel free to stop me whenever you want…”
“No, no, I’m actually enjoying myself,” he replied, laughing. “I must confess myself, as long as that’s what we’re doing, I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone so witty, confident, clever, sensual, and extremely attractive…it’s your turn to stop me,” he added, smiling.
“Absolutely not,“ Mallory said, returning his smile. “I’d have to agree with everything you’ve said,” she replied, laughing. “With a few minor exceptions.”
“Such as?” he asked, sounding perplexed. “I’m a very good judge of character, and my eyesight isn’t failing, so you tell me where you think I went wrong.”
“Well, I’ve never considered myself to be extremely attractive or sensual, so that completely negates confident, but I feel a tough I’d be obligated to add flirtatious to your list of attributes.
“Do you mind?” he retorted.
Do you hear me complaining?” Mallory quickly shot back, flashing a smile.
“So, you don’t expect me to believe that your husband never tells you how beautiful you are, or how charming or how sensual you are?”
“Oh, he does, he does… all the time. As a matter of fact, that was the point of this entire evening. To prove that he was not the only one who could see those qualities in me.”
“Well, then it looks as though I truly have been of some assistance,” he answered, sounding a bit relieved.
At that moment, I arrived back at the table, and the three of us were escorted to our dinner seating arrangement.
Drinks and small appetizers were ordered, delivered, and consumed, all in a relaxed, casual manner. Dinner was much the same. We shared a very “getting to know you” sort of conversation. Mallory seemed relaxed, smiling and laughing at regaled stories. She also seemed a bit intrigued with our guest, who behaved in a very attentive manner toward her.
I simply supposed it was the relief she felt, coupled with the four drinks she’d consumed.
But as these things do, dinner was coming to an end, and we began finishing drinks, preparing to leave.
“I must say, I can’t remember when I’ve had such a nice, casual evening such a this,” her guest admitted. “With an endless string of meetings, business lunches, and business dinners, I’d forgotten what it’s like to simply be social. I’d like to thank you both for a wonderful evening. Maybe we could do this again, sometime.”
“That it has,” I said in agreement. “I suppose we’ll get the check and head up to our room,” I added.
“Oh, you’re staying here too?” he answered with what sounded like peaked interest.
“Yes, we are,” Mallory replied. “We’re not the drinking and driving sort.”
“A wise decision,” he replied, in agreement, rising from the table. “Thank you once again for a lovely and eye-opening evening,” he added, extending his hand.
I took his hand and said, “It was our mistake and our pleasure.”
He turned to Mallory and said, “I do hope to see you and your dress again sometime soon.”
“Thank you very much. You’ve been quite complimentary,” she answered, as he turned to leave.
I was busy taking care of the check, and when I looked up, Mallory was watching her guest stroll across the dining room floor toward the exit.
“Well, that turned out better than I thought,” she said. “He seems like a very nice man.”
“Handsome too,” I added, throwing out some bait.
“Oh, well, sure,” Mallory stammered, trying to seem unaffected.
“Listen, if you want to give him your number, then go ahead,” I suggested, leaving the decision up to her.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she said, as if pondering.
“Well, you certainly can’t if you’re still sitting here,” I said, and in as nonchalant a way as I could.
“Maybe I can catch him at the elevator,” she said, gathering her purse and leaving the table.
Mallory hurried across the lobby, intercepting her guest as he stood in front of the elevator doors.
“I’m sorry to catch you like this, but the next time you’re in town, maybe we might get together again,” she said, sounding very nervous. “I forgot to give you my number.”
“Well, Mallory, I would be very grateful and flattered for such an indulgence,” he said, smiling.
Somewhat flustered, Mallory gave him her number, which he entered into his phone.
“Perfect. I’ll look forward to seeing you both again,” he said graciously and casually reached out to embrace Mallory. He pulled her close and, with one hand, drifted down, caressing the thin material that covered her sublime bottom, and whispered, “I do hope to have an opportunity to see what you’re keeping under this dress,” as the elevator doors opened. He stepped inside, leaving Mallory standing open-mouthed in the lobby as the doors shut.
“I don’t know your name,” Mallory stammered out.
“No, you don’t, do you?” he replied as the doors closed completely.
