The Woman in Red: 5. The Black Oyster
Two days had passed. Jean-Pierre hadn’t heard from Katarina. The third day, after work, when he walked back to his car, he saw that there was a paper under one of the windshield wipers. He hadn’t expected it to be from Katarina. He saw her name at the bottom of the note, written in a stylish manner.
‘Tonight, The Black Oyster, eight o’clock,’ he read. How did she know this was one of his favorite restaurants? The question didn't spook for a long time in his mind because he was far too glad and excited Katarina had given a sign of life. It seemed an eternity he had met her. Never a woman had made such an impression on him.
When it was almost seven, he almost couldn't control his nerves. He couldn’t choose between the blue tie or yellow one. Well then, just without. He looked handsome enough in his suit…, he hoped. Jean-Pierre was surprised he found it so important, what she would think of him. It was another thing that never had happened to him.
A quarter to eight, he started his car and drove in the direction of ‘The Black Oyster’. When he arrived there, he searched a place for his car, close to the entrance because it started raining. Not pouring rain, but fast enough to be wet if you have to walk too far. He opened the door of the establishment and looked automatically through the restaurant to watch for the woman in red. It had taken him only a few seconds before he saw her.
She was wearing a red skirt, but she had chosen this time for a white blouse with a collar of lace. The front was with a deep cut it almost seemed indecent he saw a great part of her breasts. A spot he would love to kiss. This thought crossed his mind while his feet led him to her table.
‘Good evening, Jean-Pierre, you had no trouble finding it?’ Her smile revealed nothing. On the table, there was a glass of soda water in anticipation of his arrival, but she had hardly drank of it.
The setting of the table was beautiful, something ‘The Black Oyster’ was known for it. The proprietress of the business took pride in making from every table a feast. The glasses and the tableware shined in the yellow glow of the illumination.
‘Hello, Katarina, no problem, but how did you know this was my favorite restaurant?’ He couldn’t restrain himself asking. Maybe she had seen him here once or had she heard it from an acquaintance?
She looked surprised at him. ‘No, for real? That's a fluke. I wasn't aware of that. A good girlfriend of mine has recommended it here, and because it wasn’t a long drive, I thought this was the right choice and an opportunity to discover the menu of The Black Oyster.’ Ostentatiously she took the menu card. 'Maybe we could start with a glass of champagne, Jean-Pierre, what do you think?'
‘An excellent idea, the choice is all yours, I may add.’ He noticed a man in a black suit, approaching their table. 'Good evening, Robert, Madam would like a glass of champagne, I'll have the same.'
Katarina smiled at Robert while she was pointing at the wine list. ‘Give us a bottle of this one. When you drink champagne, you can’t stop after the first glass, isn’t. It’s the nectar of the gods, I think. Made to enjoy.’ Robert took the order and disappeared into the kitchen.
‘By the way, Jean-Pierre, when I drink champagne, I truly get in the mood.’ She didn’t elaborate on what sort of mood she got in, but she looked so seductive over her menu she still was holding in her hand, that Jean-Pierre almost blushed.
After a few glasses, he had to admit, that one glass asked for another. The bottle was empty after no time. Jean-Pierre got warm, and Katarina had a blush on her cheeks that colored beautifully with her red skirt.
All in all, it was an exquisite meal. She took a fine carpaccio of tuna fish as an appetizer, with lemon, ginger, and seaweed. He wanted the Pomo Dori salad with Pata Negra ham and buffalo mozzarella. Both of them enjoyed the masterpieces of the chef and praised him into heaven. They chose for the guinea fowl supreme with truffle cream as the main course and it tasted delicious.
After that, there was a little pause, in which they talked about dishes they both had already tasted and liked. Apparently, Katarina felt at ease and on a few occasions put her hand on his. It was maybe only for a couple of seconds but an erotic movement, a delicate caress. Jean-Pierre felt her hand being warm now. A stark contrast with the touch during the dance on that particular evening.
At the dessert, a simple but delicious chocolate mousse, he got even warmer. First he thought it was his imagination, but then he knew it for sure. A foot under the table was softly but confidently searching upon his left leg. It moved teasingly from below to above his leg, a part of the inner side of his thigh, almost as far as the crotch of his pants. Meanwhile, Katarina held her Chardonnay in her hand and gazed with great interest above the glass, how he would react. He almost didn’t dare to move while his body in a particular place got very excited.