Surprise-Surprise
"It is more common that you get a couple and they start arguing
after eating a good part of their dinner. He leaves first after a loud argument. She
waits, then helpless and crying, she asks for the powder-room to fix her face. That is
when she makes her exit."
SURPRISE - SURPRISE
These days I have one of those Counterfeit
Money Detector Pens (CMDP) and I use it on all fifty and hundred dollar bills. It is the
kind of marker which leaves a bright yellow line on real dollar bills and a nasty
dark-brown mark on all fake money, so the instruction pamphlet says. Unfortunatelly,
or should I say fortunatelly, I have not met any bad American dollar bill yet.
This evening I have a couple, whose
reservation has the phone number of a nearby hotel behind the name John Ashley. The two
are dressed to be seen. They are ready for an evening out on the town. He wears an
expensive dark suit and a fashionable silk multicolor tie. She is in a low cut floor
length, light blue, semi transparent, evening gown style chiffon outfit. An invisible
fogbank of expensive perfume lingers heavy around her bare shoulders and neck. Pearl
earrings, a pearl ring, eight or ten strings of pearls around her neck and a pearl
bracelet add a touch of elegance to her most revealing outfit.
Every man in the house is checking this her body
out and all who have seen her walking in and by them, say something to the effect of
"She doesn't wear a stitch of clothing underneath." I don't doubt it, still I
say "She might be wearing a flesh colored bra and slip."
When I stay next to her as I take their
cocktail-order I realize, it is true, this woman she does not wear any of these
breast-lifting devices. She sports a big chest, most likely the best implants I have seen
in a while. For natural breasts, at this lady's age, these twins are too firm and full,
with big upwards pointing nipples. I catch myself taking her inventory and have to
remind myself that my job is to wait on customers and not to gawk.
The couple is well mannered and obviously accustomed to
fine dining. He orders the food for both. She makes the wine selection. She knows her
wines, it is the best and only the best. Her manners are lady-like and she has no problem
to pronounce the foreign sounding words of menu items and the tricky names on our
wine-list. Aside that her dress reveals more than what it covers, and she knows it, she is
also reveals being sophisticated in the way she talks about food and world events.
During their dinner, I give them the attention
which they deserve. I try to behave my best and keep eye contact with him, instead of
getting lost in browsing her curvatures. They enjoy their meal. When I clear the plates.
He asks me about ongoing local events. I tell him about the Watsonville antique plane
fly-in, the concert at Laguna Secca, the Monterey downtown arts and craft show, the tennis
tournament in Pebble Beach and the Squid festival at the Monterey Fairgrounds. He asks for
a piece of paper, makes notes and puts the same into his money-clip filled with big bills.
I do not spot a single twenty they are all fifty and hundred dollar notes.
I think to myself "There's a lot of
paper, plenty of work for my CMDP!" I do not think that his money is fake.
These two they do not look or act like con-artists. After clearing their plates, I crumb
their table and sell them on a baked Alaska, which they share.
They do not care for coffee at the time as there is
still some Champagne left in their bottle to be finished. I go about my business and
attend to my other tables.
Like always at times a line
forms in front of the bathroom. The lady in the long blue dress
joins the line. Against the bright lights at the steps to the powder-room it becomes
obvious that she indeed does not wear any undies. She does not shave her pubic hair
either. Curls of hair are clearly outlining her triangle. She notices my looking at her
and waves me over. She is dancing from one foot onto the other asking for the location of
another bathroom nearby. Her facial expression tells me the urgency of her need to go.
I understand her desperation. So I show her the
shortest way to another ladies-room without lines. This one happens to be in the lobby of
the hotel across the garden promenade in front of us. My eyes follow her as she takes her
sweet time setting one foot in front of the other while swinging her hips like a sample of
sin.
She does walk like those women I remember from the
waterkant in Hamburg. The sight takes me back twenty years to those ladies hoofing the
docks to the delight of arriving sailors. I can not help it and get lost in my thoughts
while "eye shopping" feasting my sense of sight on every one of her moves. And I
know she knows what efect she has on me.
Believe me I am trying hard to concentrate on my
job, taking care of my tables. Here I have a guest asking me "Who was this sparsely
dressed woman?" And over there at the next table "Do you know her?" This
woman did not go unnoticed.
I see her man looking around and at once attend to him,
who wants to order coffee drinks. He knows exactly what he wants and I write it down:
"One espresso, put a spoonful of Drambuie in it and a cappuccino for her with a
hint of Frangelico, two drops of Galliano, a dash of Grand Marnier. Use steamed low fat
milk for hers and waiter, let me have some steamed half & half, but bring it on the
side!" I ask "Do you want me to wait for the lady?"
And he answers, "No go ahead, I know she
will be right back!" I go and make the coffee drinks. The cooks who have not
seen the woman in blue, want to know all about her. They too have heard about this woman
in the "sparse dress."
I answer some of those questions as to her figure
and cleavage. I guess the heat has gotten to some of those line cooks who ask me to bring
her back into the kitchen.
"What makes her so
attractive?" "Does she have no guilty conscience?"
"Is she into voyeurism?" "An exhibitionist?" "Just sent her
back here...!"
"Come on guys cool it. So what's the big deal?
She just wants to be seen, that's it!" I answer the cooks and I go and serve the two
coffee drinks. There is nobody at the table. I ask the new manager, who is doubling as
host. "Have you seen the woman in the long see-through dress?" The manager must
have noticed her but he answers: "I'm not so sure."
However he recalls in detail the elegant dressed
gentleman with this lovely silk tie. The one, wearing Fahrenheit cologne, with the wavy
full head of natural dark hair and the mood stone ring on his little finger. He saw him.
"Yes, he stopped by here on his way to get his camera from the car." Our manager
has a glow on his face as he says, "John said, he wants to take some picture of the
model he is dining with today."
So I leave the coffee drinks on the table. Half an
hour passes by. No, neither the woman nor the man is back. I tell the manager about
my concerns. He is not worried at all. Somehow he had managed to get the phone number of
the gentleman whom he calls "A hunk!" and he shows me a business card saying
"STUDIO 6 - videos, photos, discrete service, your place any place - John Ashley and
a phone number." I call the number. It belongs to a local church. The friendly
voice answering me has never heard of a John Ashley or Studio 6. I call the hotel whose
phone number is written next to the reservation. They too, have no John Ashley staying
with them. I give the frontdesk people a description of the two. They certainly would have
noticed her. How could anybody have overlooked her? I give the ticket to the manager, who
is scratching behind his ear, nervous about the whole thing. He takes it personally, for
he feels he has allowed it to happen. He is all upset and bent out of shape, that a
customer did walk out on him like this. I know despite his years of living experience our
manager has very little time in restaurant management.
I try to calm him down, "It happens, this is the
third walk out I have had in thirty years and the smoothest too!"
Our manager asks, "What do you mean?"
So I tell him. "It is more common that you get a couple and
they start arguing after eating a good part of their dinner. He leaves first after a loud
argument. She waits, then helpless and crying, she asks for the powder-room to fix her
face. That is when she makes her exit."
I have seen such happen to me as well as to
other waiters, several times. Usually con artists try to blend perfectly into the
surrounding. Nevertheless this couple today, they just didn't look like people who would
not pay their bills. They looked real! What am I saying, so do fake hundred-dollar bills?

Desserts

last updated
01/03/09