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"I would have called to let you know I was going to be late, but you didn’t give me your cell phone number." She took off her coat to reveal a one-piece black jumper, accented with a diamond studded waist belt.
"You look incredible tonight, Avonte."
"Thank you, Devin," Avonte flirted in that voice that was driving me insane. "You look very nice in a suit."
Once we were seated, a waiter came and handed us menus. As he told us about the day’s specials, Avonte said, "Oysters. Do you like oysters?"
"I love oysters."
"Good," Avonte said, turning her attention to the waiter. "We’ll start out with a dozen of your East and West Coast oysters. And bring me a double shot of Kettle One." She sent the waiter on his way.
"So, Avonte, other than the oysters, do you see anything else you like?"
"Well, the pan-fried crab cake with roasted potatoes, seasonal vegetables, and tartar sauce sounds tasty. But, I think I’m going to have the fried sea scallops with whipped potatoes and chive oil. What about you?"
"I was looking at the roasted Maine lobster, but that’s too much trouble, so I’m gonna try the linguine with fresh clams."
Over dinner, we had the usual amount of polite dinner conversation. I talked about my life as tax attorney.
"Boring," Avonte mused. "But you didn’t invite me to dinner to talk about my taxes."
"Really," I laughed a little. "Why did I invite you then, Ms. Avonte?"
"You invited me here because you want me."
I didn’t answer right away, but since that is why I invited her there, I went on and admitted it. "You’re right, I do want you."
"I usually am about these things." Avonte smiled.
"So when can we get together?" I asked as I discreetly glanced at my watch.
"What about now?"
I glanced at my watch again. It was little before ten; so much for on the way home by 11. "Now is good," I said, and signaled for the waiter.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Avonte
Now that the check had been paid and the waiter was tipped handsomely, Devin and I left the restaurant and stepped out into the cold night air.
"Where to?" I asked.
"I know a place not far from here."
"Where is that?"
"A hotel called Club Quarters. It’s on Williams Street. It’s only a couple of blocks from here. We can walk, if you like."
"You know, Devin, if it’s all the same to you, why don’t we just catch a cab," I suggested. "I know walking would be more, you know, romantic, but it’s cold. And I want you now."
Devin stepped to the curb. "Taxi!" he yelled.
A short time later, we were walking in the hotel lobby of Club Quarters. "I take it you come here often?"
"Yes. My office is near here, so we put up clients here when they’re in town. And anytime somebody works late and doesn’t want to go home, this is where we stay."
