Jocko
She's wearing a little short black dress that shows off her long legs and every perfect curve of her body, and I turn in the seat to stare at her. “You look stunning, Juicy.”
“Thanks.” She grins as she puts her car in drive and pulls out onto the highway. “Are you sure Lucifer will be alright until we come ….” She stops, catching herself before she says, ‘home.’
Grinning like I've won the grand prize at the fair, I assure her. “He's a dog. He’ll be fine. He’ll sleep.”
As she weaves through the traffic, I stare at her. Each time she cuts her eyes and sees I’m still looking at her, she smiles.
“Yes, I can’t take my eyes off you.”
“Good.” She says as she turns into Angelo’s Steakhouse. As soon as she's parked, I ask her. “May I open the door for you?”
“Certainly.”
I jump out, trot around, and make a big deal about opening her door, offering my hand, and pulling her to her feet. “I would kiss you right now, but ….”
“But, we need to eat before we go out drinking.”
“Yes, that too.”
She hooks my arm, and I escort her inside.
When I pull open the door, Jorja glides through, and the hostess looks up. Her eyes skip right over Jorja and light up when they meet mine. I've seen the look too many times before not to recognize a single woman looking to score.
When we walk up to her, she asks me for my name, but before I can give it, Jorja asserts herself and tells her, “Jorja Jones.”
The hostess takes two menus and leads us to our table. I pull the chair out for Jorja, and she beams up at me as she sits. “I like this gentlemanly side to you.”
“I fucking love the lady look, Babe.”
She chuckles, “Spontaneous shopping spree success.”
The waitress appears. “Welcome to Angelo’s. Do you need a drink menu?” She looks from me to Jorja.
“Water, please,” Jorja says.
“Budweiser.”
“Coming right up.”
Looking over the menu, I prepare Jorja. “Just so you aren’t shocked, I eat my steak very rare.”
“No worries. I like mine rare too.” She continues to read the pages.
“Mine will bleed.”
She looks up and shrugs, “Okay.” Then goes back to reading the menu. I’m still staring at her when she closes it. “What?”
“I’m just amazed.”
“At the fact that I won’t freak out at the sight of blood oozing from the steak when you stab it?”
I laugh. “Well … yeah.”
She laughs with me. “I'll have the Dallas filet, small cut, with a Caesar salad, no croutons.”
I smirk. “This is my treat. You can have anything on the menu.”
