“I can actually,” I finally managed to say, even with a fraudulent mindless shrug. I knew I was indirectly giving him an affirmative to his not so subtly hidden question.
He signalled at the waitress and whispered something in her ear. The waitress in return collected our menus and left the room.
“It’s not on the menu, is it?” I asked with curiosity while sipping on exquisite champagne. After all, I hadn’t spotted any five-course set meal on the menu.
“Special order.”
“Okay, mind telling me what you ordered?”
“Hmmm,” he responded instead, as if considering if to let me in on a secret. He finally acquiesced after sprawling his back elegantly and comfortably on the chair, like he was getting ready to give me a lecture.
He was indeed.
“The first course is the appetizer and is the Almas Caviar, derived from a hundred-year-old Beluga sturgeon from the Caspian Sea. The course two is the Soup Du Jour otherwise known as the Bird’s Nest soup which is a four hundred years Chinese delicacy. Trust that the derivation of the meal is not nearly as appetizing as the final delivery. Then onto the third course, which is the Wagyu beef pie. This is one of the only few places in London that offers it, and it’s worth the secludedness. The fourth is the Tigerfish, which is the best meal ever; and finally, the dessert, which is a replica 0f The Grand Opulence Sundae. It contains Tahitian and Madras Carian Vanilla in the ice cream, and it has in it the world’s most expensive chocolate—Amedia Porceleana, and covered with chunks of rare Chuao chocolate. To top it off is that the sundae is festooned with exotic candied fruits and so much more. Explanatory enough?” He asked as he concluded his small talk, or should we say culinary lecture.
I let out a short laugh because I never thought I could get more than a full sentence out of him.
With a marred frown, he asked, “something funny?”
“I didn’t think you had it in you to say that much in one go.”
His face relaxed as his gaze burrowed into my eyes. “For you, I do.”
I opened my mouth to say something, anything. But nada, nothing came forth.
I raised my champagne glass, taking a long and slow sip from it while looking into it to avoid his stare. What I was sure of was that I was hot and bothered. What I was sure of was the feeling of satisfaction in the pit of my stomach.
I finally found the courage to look back up, setting down the champagne flute. I found him watching me intensely, and I also caught him just at the moment he licked his lips. It made me flick my eyes to his mouth.
I exhaled in desire. I wanted to kiss those lips, and I wanted to be kissed by him. The pleasant smirk on his face revealed that he knew just what I was thinking.
Better still, I saw it on his face— he wanted it too.
“Tell me about other significantly interesting meals you have had,” I asked quickly, willing myself to stop imagining his lips on mine.
He corked his eyebrow, something he did a lot. He didn’t bother questioning my assumption, he simply indulged me.
Finally, the meal came, and I did not wait to start on the Almas Caviar. It tasted like a mixture of the sea product and egg white, while the soup da jour tasted irrevocably dangerous on my lips in the right way.
I had never sampled anything like it, and I wouldn’t waste crackers on such. We ate the appetizers in comfortable silence. Also, I couldn’t help the appreciative sounds coming out of my mouth because he had chosen well.
Then came the first main course. The Wagyu beef pie. The waiter brought a pie large enough for two. I was wondering how he and I would eat one pie together when he spoke, “I seriously hope you weren’t thinking of eating alone. We would share after all.”
Without waiting for a reply, he picked up his fork and dug in. But that wasn’t what made me hesitate—it was the irresistible aroma that I wanted to take a moment to inhale.
I was at that point of hunger, where the smell alone seemed almost enough to satisfy me. It took him eating enough pie to reveal the tantalizing meat sauce underneath for me to pick up my fork to eat, causing him to give what was a very low chuckle.
“Couldn’t resist,” I said with a shrug, and so we ate in another warm silence. It was the delicacy that kept it that way.
And when the ice cream came, I felt like I was in heaven on earth. I had always known that ice creams were the best thing that happened to mankind.
The sundae dared to look beautiful. There was no way I was sharing with him. I just began scooping when I felt his intense stare and looked up.
“You are welcome to join me,” I said shamelessly but didn’t mean it, all because the ice cream gave me such boldness.
I saw a ghost of a smile, which looked strange on his perfectly sculpted face, and yet it was stunningly beautiful—a ray of sunshine.
“I’d rather just watch you finish our dessert for us.”
I mentally did a happy dance, not bothering to argue or encourage him to join me. Still, I could feel his eyes on me, and then I thought about what he said.
He watched me till I finished it all before wiping my mouth, and sat up with the little pride I had left.
“Did my menu choice please you?” He asked, letting me know that his question had so many immoral layers to it.
What he was saying really was, ‘if my choice pleased you, think of all the other ways my choices could too.’
I nodded, refusing to give in to his word games. I was glad that he changed the subject, perhaps noticing I was fidgeting because I was still flustered.
“What was your plan before you ran into me?”
“In short, I was headed home.”
“Via ?”
“Uber,” I replied, resisting the urge to say, ‘Uber. See there, I answered your question live and direct. Try it sometime’.
“Did you come alone?” he queried.
“No, I didn’t, but my…” I paused, surprised I was about to call Evelina a friend, after meeting her that same day.
“Erm, she is having the time of her life, and I wasn’t, so…”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll be taking you home,” he announced like there was no room for argument.
“You will?” Was what I found myself saying, when I logically wanted to say no.
That’s how I let a strange man take me home, after losing the battle to foot half the bill. He had graciously revealed that payments were not needed as it was a members club, and his membership covered it.
Hours later, I laid on my bed, thinking about how my day turned out. I was anxious to tell my best friend about my day because he was going to think I was full of shit. I concluded that he wouldn’t even believe me.
My thoughts quickly wandered back to Mr Clarke as I asked myself so many questions.
Would I see him again? I didn’t know, and that made me scared to sleep.
I could still feel his hands on my waist.
I could still feel his warm breath against my skin.
I could still feel his intense gaze flog me with intensity.
What if I woke up and it was just a dream? I wondered.
A dream about how his second touch felt like the first time. A dream about how when I ate with him, it felt like the first time I had ever eaten with anyone.
When he looked at me, it was as if I had never been gazed upon. It could be a dream, but as I slept, I prayed it was not. If only to cherish the memories.