"You're kind of like the matcha place. In a totally different way. Very extra."
"Extra?"
"Yeah… extra. Someone who's more than normal in some way. Like I am, with my hair and style. Or you, with your suit."
"People still say extra?"
She laughs. "You are doubting my slang?"
I nod.
"Well… I guess I don't know. I haven't seen anyone from school since I graduated. And I'm still working on bringing back randy."
"I hope it catches on."
"Me too." Her expression softens. "You are extra. You always look like James Bond." She motions to my silver tie-clip. "Not a thread out of place."
"Not anymore."
Her blush deepens. She fights her shyness.
It's adorable. And sexy as hell.
Eve isn't a shy woman. I know how to push her buttons.
I want to push them all day, every day.
When was the last time I felt like this?
I live a full life. Enjoy the company of friends, colleagues, lovers.
Never someone who fascinates me like she does.
No one fascinates me like she does.
"You fly helicopters, right?" she asks.
I nod.
"Do you wear that?"
"Sometimes."
"Really?" Her eyes fill with surprise. "You're messing with me."
"Maybe."
"Teasing." Her smile widens. "Is that what this was? The dress thing? You're teasing."
I shrug like I don't know.
She catches on immediately. "Or did you want to imagine me in the tiny space, undressing for you?"
My balls tighten. "Of course."
"I thought about it too." She brushes a hair behind her ear. "I took a picture. I almost sent it to you."
"Why didn't you?"
"It's too risky. You could do anything with it."
"I wouldn't."
She stares into my eyes, deciding whether or not she believes me. "How do I know if I can trust that?"
"You don't. It's smart to be careful."
"You're not asking?" Her voice drips with disappointment. She wants me to ask. Wants me to demand it even.
I want any and every picture of her. But I want her to be careful too. "Yes. I'm asking. Send me a picture. Once you trust me with it. I'll fuck myself to it."
Her cheeks flush. "Oh."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Sticking with oh." She notices a passing couple. Sits up straight in her seat. Mimes zipping her lips.
She's nervous discussing sex in public.
Which is a good thing. I'm ready to take her right now.
I need to control myself.
Eve clears her throat. Switches to a more innocent topic. "I was thinking earlier… your suit. It's like my hair. This thing that defines you. Visually."
"It does?"
She nods. "Imagine you were a character in a movie."
"Is it a sexy movie?"
"Very sexy." She smiles. "There's a spy running around who makes everyone randy."
"It sounds groovy."
"Very." Her gaze goes fuzzy as she drifts into a mental image. "The costume designer would find a way to describe each character visually. I have my hair. My tattoos. My black clothes. They say this girl is a free-thinker. A rebel. A young person who rejects the establishment."
"Is it accurate?"
"Mostly. And you, with this perfect suit, not a thread out of place." She looks me up and down slowly. "It says this guy is rich. Powerful. Someone who knows how to demand all the attention in a room. Someone who gets what he wants. He's cool and collected. Put-together."
"Does it describe me?"
"What I know." She picks up her fork. Presses the tong into the white tablecloth. Plays with the handle. "But no one is really like that."
"No? This groovy spy isn't cool and collected?"
"Sometimes, maybe. But… well, that's why I've never watched a Bond movie. He seems so cool and aloof, like nothing could ever bother him. There's no conflict."
"What about the villain capturing him? Forcing him to listen to a boring monologue?"
She laughs. "Sure, there are obstacles. But none of them ruffle him. It's not human. So you… either you're a robot. Or you're really good at hiding the things that ruffle you."
"Damn, you've found me out. I'm Sexbot Eight Thousand. Programmed to fill every one of your needs."
Her laugh gets louder. Heavier. Enough her tits shake.
Fuck, why did I take her bra?
There's barely any fabric covering her.
It would be easy to pull her to the corner, slip my hands under her top, toy with her until she's begging to come.
"Very lifelike." She runs her index finger over the edge of the spoon. "I'm convinced."
"Wait until you see my add-on."
This time, she laughs loud enough people turn toward our table.
A few look at us curiously. What is that unusual young girl doing with that older man?
It's not like I can pass for her father.
But it's not like I'm the only man here with a younger woman.
Maybe it's wrong. Maybe