Scarlett was right about the truffle fries. They didn’t taste like any fry I’ve ever had, and I’ve ordered sweet potato fries (by mistake of course). If my evening with Scarlett had a theme, it’d be truffle fries: out of my comfort zone yet, inviting. By the end of the meal, my napkin was covered in burger grease and truffle oil. I refuse to lick my fingers. I used to do it a lot as a kid, until my mom made me lick my fingers until they pruned. That was the last time I ordered buffalo chicken wings.
Scarlett had me do a lot of the talking when I returned from the bathroom. She filled in any of the gaps with laughter or appetizer-ordering. I had never felt so hungry and full in my life. I hadn’t eaten all day, but every time Scarlett giggled or said my name, butterflies poured in my stomach until it topped off like an overflowing beer glass. I wanted her to reach over the table and hold my hand again. I wanted her to find an excuse to move her chair next to me. I wanted to get another whiff of the paradise on her neck, because being with her was an out-of-body experience, and I needed her to snap me back to reality. She didn’t mention her fiancé at dinner and to be honest, I forgot anyone else existed until my cell phone went off. It was Kelly.
I struggled turning off the ringer. The men around us who were nose deep in their cappuccinos shifted their eyes to Scarlett, back to me and then back to Scarlett. They looked over to their wives and started to whisper, probably something to the effect of, “How rude! I’d never treat you like that.”
I apologize to Scarlett and she looked down at her phone. “It is getting late Eric. Maybe we could continue this conversation over coffee at my place?”
“You still want to hang out with me?” Now I was laughing. My buzz had passed, but I was so high on her. She laughed too and requested the check.
“You’re such a sweetheart, Eric.” She handed the waiter one of her credit cards without even looking at the price. She had the whole night planned and wasn’t letting anything stop her. The waiter returned with her card and receipt. She signed – an S, lowercase c, followed by a makeshift star – zipped her purse and led me back to the valet. Every man was slack jawed when Scarlett passed by. Her black dress was skintight. There were no wrinkles, bumps or even small deodorant stains. It looked like the dress was a part of her and if I touched the hem, it’d be so warm and smooth. When I followed her outside, my pants grew so tight. I was almost jealous of the dress she was wearing and wondered if I’d ever get that close to her.
Scarlett has the body all women want to have and all men want to have on them. I’m not the most experienced man sexually, but my dad always told me a joke and good cologne can go a long way.
I lost my virginity when I was a freshman in college to some senior in my art history class. Her name was Tania and she had light green snakebites. We were cramming for a midterm in the library when her boyfriend broke up with her over text. She brought me into one of the bathroom stalls, where she had been crying and started unzipping my pants. Holding back tears, she took ahold of my hips, and thrust me to the back of her throat. It sounded like she was gargling on mouth wash. When I looked down all I saw was mascara running down her cheeks. She then leaned over the toilet seat, placed her hands on the flusher and demanded me to fuck her. It reminded me of a porn I tried watching once. She kept flushing the toilet in between my pumps that were far from average. Before I came she had me pull out, so she could sit on the toilet and take the load in her mouth. In the middle of spitting my cum in the toilet, she screamed at me to leave. Tania and her boyfriend got back together the next day.
On the ride back to Scarlett’s, I couldn’t help but to just look over at her. She was the kind of woman Johnny Bravo would be too chicken to talk to, and I was merely minutes away from getting a taste.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Eric?” Her voice cracked when she said my name like she was nervous to hear the answer. I looked over at her diamond ring and there was a brick in my stomach. I already knew a bit of her life story. Maybe I was the subplot she had been waiting for. I shook my head with a smile. “Oh,” she giggled and turned the car into the garage. “So who was calling you at dinner? Your mother?”
I stopped talking to my mother after I dropped out of college. Once in a while she sends me texts about how my sister is doing in rehab, but it’s hard to compete with something like that. “I don’t talk to my mother,” I said.
Scarlett sighed and put the car in park. “I think I’m going about this the wrong way. Want to come inside and I’ll make it up to you?”
I suddenly felt so hot. She made me so hot. She was so hot and I couldn’t believe I was in her car. I was so sweaty and was leaving a mark on the leather, but she still wanted me to come inside. “Make it up me?” Now my voice had a crack in it.
She responded with a giggle. “I promised you coffee, didn’t I?”
Walking into the house was different this time. Scarlett tossed her purse onto one of the couches, grabbed a remote and streamed some music. She kept on her dress but kicked off her high heels before entering the kitchen. She fixed me a cup of coffee and offered a whoopie pie she had made the night before. They were pumpkin flavored. “Tis the season, right?” she said in a sing-songy way when handing me one. She poured herself a cup of coffee and followed me back to the living room. Scarlett sat down on the cushion next to me and I couldn’t help but wonder why we weren’t upstairs. I was waiting for her to go slip into something more comfortable. I so badly wanted to fuck her on the stairwell and see the look on her fiancé’s face when he came through the door. But Scarlett didn’t slip into something more comfortable. She kept asking me questions about what I studied at school and if I wanted to be a famous writer some day. I wouldn’t think a woman like her would get off hearing about some midterm I failed or a professor I hated. “What do you really want to ask me, Scarlett?”
“If I ask you what I really want to ask you, you probably won’t believe me.” The song in the background muffled and all I could hear was my heart pounding so hard. It was pounding so hard I thought it was going to breakthrough my chest and fall into my lap. “But I think you’d be perfect for it.”
“You really think about me?” We made eye contact, “like that?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Ever since I met you.”
“Holy shit,” I held her hand. “Do you want to dance with me?”
She let out a loud laugh and nodded her head when trying to catch her breath. “Livin’ La Vida Loca” was playing when I pulled Scarlett off the couch. We hugged for a moment and swayed back in forth to the beat of the song. Scarlett stepped back and put her hands in mine while lip synching the lyrics. I just smiled watching her lips move and poorly lip synched the words back to her. She laughed and held my hands tighter. She didn’t mind the sweat. She didn’t mind me. I was so high it was like I was watching myself from the couch or the stairwell above us. She was my little dancer and I never wanted the curtains to close. I pulled her into me. All I could smell was coffee, and when I kissed her that’s all I could taste. It was quite a sobering moment when Scarlett pushed me off of her and when the song turned off, it was like the worst hangover. I was the leading role for this show, but I had been reading the wrong cues the whole time.
“I thought we were having fun?”
“I’m engaged Eric.” She crossed her arms over her cleavage. “I didn’t even ask you the question yet.”
“You said you thought of me, Scarlett. I think of you too.” She grabbed one of the blankets off the couch and wrapped it around herself. “You’re just, so beautiful.” I went to approach her but she took a step back. “I’m in fucking denial someone like you is talking to me. I know you’re out of my league.”
“You’re not out of anyone’s league, Eric. I’m just not interested. I’m engaged, okay?”
“You took me out though. You said I was funny.” It took everything in me not to yell at her. “You called me Chevy Boy.”
“I consider you a friend, that’s why I gave you the nick name.” She sighed and tightened the blanket around her. “I’m sorry. I took you out because I do want to know you better. I would love for you to work for me.”
There was that brick in my stomach again. “Yeah right Scarlett.” I couldn’t believe she was going to keep playing me. “I’m not interested.” I headed for the door and retrieved Kelly’s keys out of my pocket.
“I wouldn’t have reached out to you if I didn’t think you could do it. I don’t even like American chop suey!”
I turned back to her. “What does that even mean?”
“I went to your diner after work a couple months ago and ordered American chop suey because you recommended it. You sold it to me, Eric. Just imagine how many women you could win over if you’re talking about a 7-series or E-class?” She walked towards me, keeping the blanket on. “What do you say?” she extended out her hand for a shake.
“I think I’ve had enough of whatever this game is.”
“Okay fine – clean slate.” She let the blanket fall. “Strictly business. We can start the paper work now or you can come to the dealership tomorrow.”
I laughed. “Come on Scarlett. You dress like that and expect me to take you seriously?” The second I asked that I regretted it. She was the most powerful and confident woman I had ever met. She walked in such a manner it was like she knew every person with a beating heart was checking her out and secretly wanting to fuck her. I still wanted her. I wish I hadn’t kissed her. We would’ve probably still been dancing and talking freely about my long term goals. I didn’t know much about the car business, but I knew I didn’t belong there. I especially didn’t belong at Benz & Beamers.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because I know you don’t mean it.”
“You’re right. I respect you more than you know, Scarlett.” I took ahold of her hand. She was shaking slightly. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t kicked me out of her house. “I’m not the right guy for Benz & Beamers. Trust me. I’ve never finished anything in my life. Any relationship I’ve been in, the girl left me because I was too chicken to make the next move. I didn’t go to my high school graduation because I was in summer school. When I was in college, I never finished my senior thesis because I dropped out.” I don’t know what surprised me the most – the fact that I told Scarlett I was a college drop out, or the fact that she didn’t even react. “You manage this high class, beautiful dealership. If I’m lucky, in a few years I’ll manage the diner while writing shitty love stories.” She joined me in a small laugh and kept her hand in mine.
“I know selling cars is not everyone’s dream job,” she said, “but I think change is good.” She smiled and her eyes sparkled. “I would love for you to be a part of our team. Besides, it might give you material for your not-so-shitty love stories.”
I laughed again and squeezed her hand. “Oh yeah? How so?”
“Do you love the Mercedes or do you love the woman driving one?”
“I think we both know the answer to that.”