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     The hostess leads the two of you to a back corner booth.  You blush a little, wondering if he knows the nasty thoughts that are running through your head.  


     Lunch is pleasant, despite the obvious sexual tension that hangs heavy between the two of you. The electric sensation finally begins to fade from your lower extremities and you are able to focus on the conversation more intently.  Ristain seems so interested in you.  He listens attentively as you describe your job and the annoying people you work with.  He even stays engaged for the ridiculously mundane recollection of your life outside of work.  Realizing that you have been talking incessantly about yourself, you change the subject to him.  He tells you about his new bike and more interestingly, the new house that he bought and is remodelling.  This guy sounds better and better by the second;  good looking, sensitive, compassionte....goodlooking......intelligent, articulate, handy....good looking....You sit there, hanging on his every word.  Soon they begin to fade into blah blah blah as you become astutely aware of his perfect lips.  Your eyes glaze over like Easter hams as you lean further across the table, cupping your chin and sticking your elbows in sticky spots on the table that you hope are only leftovers from breakfast.  


"Sound good?"  He suddenly asks, breaking you from your fog of indulgence.  


You begin to panic....what the hell did he just ask you?  


"Um...Yeah....sure"  you blindly respond. 


"Perfect"  he smiles that wry smile, one corner turns up with a hint of mischief.


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