How my Val’s Day lunch date went sour (Part 2)

In part one of this story, I found out that my number was saved on my lunch date’s phone as “Lunch”. So, there I was sitting across the table from her, and we were chatting away like we were childhood friends and all was well with the world. In my head, however, I was devising a hundred and one ways to get back at her for reducing me to such a less than flattering appellation.

I knew that she was familiar with my name, because we had chatted several times and she had used it often enough. As we sat there talking, she used it a number of times too. So you can imagine that my mind was not accepting any excuses for this. I was not interested in asking for an explanation. This was all out war. But I knew well enough that it had to be a war of wits. She was not going to know what hit her.

“Hello, old man!” Her voice broke my train of thoughts. She was looking at me enquiringly now.

“Hi,” I responded, remembering to smile again at the very last moment.

“What is bothering you?” She asked me. “You suddenly looked like you were somewhere far away from here.”

I gesticulated awkwardly as I tried to wave off her inquisition. “Nothing apocalyptic. I just remembered something I need to attend to with serious gravity.” That wasn’t a lie. Getting back at her wouldn’t end the world, but it was a serious task that I had to see to. I could walk away and break all communications with her from this point, but what would be the fun in that?

“Are you sure?” She had that oh-so-serious look on her face. I was really looking at her now. She had beautiful, piercing eyes – the type that bores into people’s heads. But I am pretty good at masking my feelings when I need to. I think I was doing a pretty good job of it at that point. Piercing or not, those eyes were not going to get into my head. After all, I was nothing more than lunch.

I checked my watch and announced to her that we would need to get moving. I had some business to attend to. She had to return to work too, so we were on the same page. I rose up as she did and stood aside to let her step forward. She wasn’t tall. She had a petite coke bottle figure, and she seemed to tease me with it as she walked ahead of me and through the door. Oh, this lady was going to get it! Me, lunch, abi?! I was smarting, and everything she did seemed to add pepper to the sting.

In less than 30 minutes, I was pulled over in the parking lot at her apartment building. I thanked her warmly for a lovely time spent together, and she responded that she really had a good time. Why would she not? She had just had lunch on a mugu.

Then, without warning, she leaned over and locked her lips on mine, kissing me full straight on the mouth, then swiftly picked her bag, got out of the car and walked away, teasing me again with her frame. I sat there transfixed like one who had just seen a ghost.

The End?

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