Page 4 of Date with A D*ck

“Gotcha. Dinner?” She changes the subject.

“The new restaurant,”

“Is it open? Damn I wanted to go for opening weekend but I forgot to make a reservation,”

“You snooze, you lose,” I tell her.

“That is so selfish! Your greedy ass could have called me, but nooooo you only look out for yourself.”

“I can bring you a doggy bag,” I offer laughing.

“Fuck you and that doggy bag!” she says and I burst out laughing. I sit there talking to EJ, catching up. Since I came home and discovered Henrique was gone, I secluded myself, not talking to anyone. EJ and I have been friends since college freshman orientation when we realized we were roommates. We were like each other's other half, but where I had to work my way through college, EJ’s trust fund took care of hers. For all intents and purposes, she was slumming it with us. She had gone to predominantly white private schools her whole life so going to a HBCU was a treat. Many times, she would say that going to Langston Hall College was the best decision she ever made, she finally felt like she was at home... like she belonged. We pledged Alpha Eta Psi, and became a Pearl together, and when she got her PhD and job offer as Hedge Fund Investment Manager at Apex Quantum Strategies, I was the first to know. She was the one who used her trust to pay for my wedding dress and everything else I needed when I married Henrique and it was EJ who got my feet through the door at Vanguard. I started as an entry level management consultant and worked my way up to senior level consultant, making seven figures a year plus bonuses. Overall, she’s my best friend, my ride or die and the sister I never had. Now if I could only get her married, but that heffa said one man couldn’t handle a woman like her.

My ass is numb by the time I set the phone on the counter of the sink, freeing my hands to wipe and flush. Rummaging through my purse I pull out wipes and tidy up.

I flush, wash my hands, check my makeup, hair, and clothes. EJ’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Well look, enjoy dinner, I got some shit to handle tomorrow but let’s meet up the next day,”

“Sounds good, I’ll text you tomorrow,”

“No, you’ll text tonight to let me know you made it home safely. I don’t care what time it is.”

“Yes ma’am,”

By the time I make it out of the bathroom the restaurant is cleared out and it appears to be empty. I don’t even see a server, patron, just... nobody; but there are still lights on so there has to be someone here. I call out but don’t get a response, so, I head back to the front of the restaurant hoping I’d run across someone or find the door unlocked. I would have just left but the door is locked with a key and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t want to just walk out and leave the door unlocked so that anyone could walk in. Remembering a door in the hallway to the bathroom that was open a crack, I make my way back hoping that someone is in there. I had this whole plan for tonight but after talking to EJ, I am not sure if I am ready to sleep with someone else, so it’s probably best if I just go on home. The door is still cracked, swinging open when I knock, to reveal an office. It is clearly a man’s office, all dark wood, colors, and heavy furniture. Except for the desk, it's a gorgeous live edge L-Shape, epoxy table. The wood, dark green, gold and white epoxy is gorgeous, it is an elegant statement piece and it takes up almost half of the room. It's so large. I run my hand along the surface stopping when I realize,Oh, it’s the Chef’s office.There are several pictures of him on the desk and credenza behind it, and if I thought he looked good dressed as a chef he looked downright sinful in the suits he’s wearing in the pictures. I am so caught up in looking, I don’t hear the person walking up behind me and I almost jump out of my heels, literally, when the deep baritone comes from behind me.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the Chef from earlier says, a deep frown settling across his face.

“I uh, I was in the bathroom and then no one was here and I couldn’t get out so I was looking for someone,” I ramble outthe word vomit as he stands there looking at me like I am an intruder.

“I swear, I was just trying to get out of here,” I start but trail off when I literally watch his eyes go from irritated, to suspicious to something else.

“So, you decided to snoop in my office when you couldn’t get out?”

“I was hoping someone was in here who could let me out.”

“Did you check the kitchen?”

“Uh?”

“I mean it is a restaurant: I would think it would make sense that if the dining room is clean and everyone is gone the kitchen would take longer to clean.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“And you still decided to come in here and invade my space?”

“I was going to check there right after coming in here, but–”

“But you got too nosey,”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Oh really? Then how would you put it?”

“I was just trying to get out of here,” I say deflecting his question.

“I saw you when you first walked into the restaurant.”

“You did?” I gulp

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