Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Parking Lots At Night #2: Dinner With Shelby

Shelby didn’t drink and I was driving.
Neither of us had alcohol that night.

In fact although we planned to have dinner,
fried zucchini was as far as we got.
While we were eating the appetizers
Shelby leaned way back and exhaled deeply.

“Do you see what I’m wearing?” Shelby asked.

I did. I recognized the black and beige,
button-front de la Renta creation.
She’d gotten it at an earlier shoot.

“I see that you’re wearing a dress that’s worth
quite a bit more than my car’s worth,” I said.

Shelby made a face. “Not the dress,” she said.
She moved her collar. “Look what’s under it.”

That’s when I learned she was wearing the bra
from the photo shoot in the parking lot.

“Laetitia gave me the bra and panties.
The instant she put them into my hand
they started whispering a little voice
in my head, ‘Put me on and let’s go out!’”

I ate some zucchini. “My briefs,” I said,
“don’t talk to me, inside my head or out.”

“You know what my lingerie’s saying now?”

“Order chicken?” I asked. I liked Kiev.

“The little voice from the bra and panties
is saying,” Shelby said, “‘Let’s go back to
the parking lot
.’ Let’s go now. In the dark.”

Shelby looked at me. She moved an eyebrow.

“What, right now?” I asked. “To the parking lot?”

She smiled and nodded with Buddha-like peace.

I asked, “What? You want me to take pictures,
do photos of you in the lingerie?”

“No,” Shelby said, leaning forward, smiling.
“I don’t want you to do photos of me.
I want you to do me. Get the picture?”

Shelby giggled low at her play on words.

Now my eyebrows went up. All by themselves.

“I might as well tell you, Shelby,” I said,
“I’m not really an out-door kind of guy.”

“You’ll be fine,” Shelby said. “Now pay the check.”

“No, really. I’m an indoor kind of guy.”

“You’ll be fine. Call the waiter. Pay the check.”

“The thing is, I get distracted,” I said.

“I’ll do the work,” Shelby said. “Pay the check.”

Sometimes a girl’s face becomes so focused
her eyes are like the whole world turning and
a guy’s only choice is to spin with it
or get thrown off into empty, cold space.

I called the waiter and I paid the check.

(Tomorrow: Parking Lots At Night #3: The Parking Lot At Night)

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