Her red fingernail polish glittered in the fluorescent yellow light of the restaurant as she motioned for the waiter across the room. He was a young boy, somewhere in his late teens or early twenties with a lanky frame and a long, bony face. There was the faintest trace of blond facial hair near his jaw line. Her scrutinizing gaze slid down him once, taking in the way the shirt hung off him and his pant legs were rolled up a few times to reveal pasty white legs.
"How may I help you, ma'am?"
His voice was vapid, a dull, lifeless monotone. Involuntarily, Cassandra Sicily felt her nose wrinkle in disgust but she managed to hide it behind her hand as she said, "I would like a refill on my tea. I would also like to speak with the manager on the matter of...the service here."
Cassandra dropped her hand to her side, glancing meaningfully at him.
The boy didn't even blink, just nodded and grabbed the cup, walking unhurriedly through the crowd of people towards the kitchen. Cassandra returned her gaze on her partner, a beaming smile instantly returning to her face.
"I, for one, didn't care for the boy," the young man seated across from her replied, his face unreadable. "He didn't even notice how beautiful you look tonight.
Cassandra felt her cheeks blush red and she tried to hide it by glancing down at the table cloth. She examined the red satin cloth draped over the table with feigned interest, her finger tracing a stain she hadn't noticed before. Now, the stain captivated her attention. After having thoroughly examined every centimeter of the stain, Cassie turned her attention to smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her Versace spaghetti-strap gown.
Unable to look away any longer, Cassie snuck a glance up at John, drinking in everything about him from his intense brown gaze to shaggy honey-blond hair that framed an angelic alabaster face. He was the oldest son of the owner of a local magazine that had recently begun to skyrocket in fame, and as such had a large role in his father’s business and would one day inherit it.
“So, what do you think about this restaurant? Other than the less than satisfactory service?” John questioned, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. Cassie couldn’t help but grin at the way he spoke, youthful enthusiasm bubbling from his lips and making him appear younger than his twenty-four years.
“It’s got a beautiful atmosphere,” Cassie answered slowly, looking around. The lighting was dim, falling in soft pools on certain spots of the floor, casting deeper shadows in other areas. The walls were painted a dark blue color and here and there abstract paintings hung. In the center of the room was a fountain, and the soft chuckle of water filled the room. “Perhaps a little gloomy for my taste.”
John grinned, riposting playfully, “You would not be satisfied until it was transformed into a circus, love.”
“Lions and all,” Cassie affirmed. “With clowns and freaks and men juggling fire and knives.”
“Not hard to please you at all,” John flattered.
Cassie ignored his dubious remark. “Why do you ask, anyway?”
John shook his head, adopting a look of innocence as he feigned temporary deafness. “Here is our waiter,” he informed Cassie, pointing to the boy, who had just rounded the corner bearing the long-awaited refill of tea.
Cassie tried her hardest not to scowl impatiently, accepting the tea offered to her by the boy with a curt nod. “And your manager?” Cassie inquired quickly, before he had a chance to disappear.
“Is not present,” the boy answered Cassie tonelessly, preparing to turn away.
She laid her hand on his shoulder, saying sharply, “Well then I demand to see whoever is in charge.”
“That would be me, ma’am,” the boy told her.
Cassie hid her surprise by taking a sip of tea, then folding her hands in her lap. She nodded. “I see,” then turned her attention back to John, clearly informing the boy that his presence was no longer necessary. Taking the hint, he left, taking the long trek back to the kitchen.
“Alone at last,” John sighed playfully.
“That sounds suspicious,” Cassie gasped. “Are you…are you planning to harm me, sir?”
John hung his head, a strand of hair flopping into his eyes and making him appear younger. “I am sorry. I will try not to have such thoughts again, mademoiselle.
“I trust not, good sir,” Cassie rebuked kindly, assuming the elegance and piety of some medieval princess.
“Indeed, mademoiselle. I beg your forgiveness,” John apologized, full of obeisance as he bowed, chuckling.
“Now run off into some forest and never return,” Cassie finished, waving her hands. She dissolved helplessly into giggles, unable to resist it.
“My charm has struck you dumb, I see,” John remarked, raising an eyebrow.
“Indeed,” Cassie retorted, snorting.
“Perhaps you can act your age now?” John teased, reaching across the table to grab Cassie hand. Cassie was unable to hide a shiver of pleasure as John traced his finger across her palm.
“You started it,” Cassie reminded him, sticking out her tongue.
“Then I’ll finish it,” John said, his voice full of mock authority.
Cassie felt her cheeks begin to turn a deeper shade of red as John leaned in over the table. He was so close that Cassie could see the slight hint of green in his eyes, could probably even count his eyelashes if she so desired. Her heart began to thump frantically in her chest, and she felt a moment of mild embarrassment at the thought that as close as he was John could surely hear it. But then, he closed the gap between his lips and hers and all coherent thought slipped away beneath the ecstatic, electric pleasure. She had all but forgotten that she had meant to say, “Not here,” so lost in the moment was she.
“Feeling your age?” John queried.
“I don’t remember what my age is,” Cassie breathed, trying to recover herself. Cassie smoothed back a stray strand of black hair, slipping it behind her ear.
“Well, I have some news for you,” John said at last, after a long moment of silence. Cassie was almost disappointed at the interruption of the silence. She had been enjoining the giddy feeling still giving her goose bumps and leaving her lightheaded too much, and had been about to give in to the temptation to make John do the whole thing over again for the sheer joy of it.
“What is it?” Cassie asked, barely able to contain her curiosity.
“I could very well soon be the new owner of this restaurant. Then, I could have lions and clowns and freaks and men juggling fire and knives for you, and we could turn this place into a full-out circus, if you so fancy.”
“How do you have the money?” Cassie muttered in disbelief.
“You know Father,” John said, shrugging. “Always willing to offer assistance in anything that may put more money in his wallet.”
“Well, if you do go with the circus theme, have our dear waiter be the clown, hmm?” Cassie said, grinning devilishly.
“I will indeed, Mademoiselle Beelzebub.”
"Oh hush, don't flatter me so," Cassie said.
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