Inane Curiousity

My group of six filters into the swanky sushi-teppanyaki restaurant filled with brilliant exotic fish tanks and flashy Asian-fusion decor. This is a place known for being seen more than it is known for its food, but we are here to celebrate a birthday. The unnaturally attractive hostess leads the flock of six to our teppanyaki table designed for eight. We settle in; women together on one side, men around the front of the table, two seats open on the end. I occupy the seat on the far frontier of our group, immediately adjacent to the empty chairs.

The usual persual of menus, much chatter and drink orders ensue. And then, the last two guests arrive; a "couple" unknown to us.

One of the quirks of a teppanyaki table is that you often have complete strangers at your dinner table unless you fill every seat. This isn't the first time we have had unknown individuals at our table yet I never really get used to it. I'm not social. I don't like making small-talk with strangers whom I will likely never see again. This trait is wholly contradicted by my natural curiousity. Tonight, my internal struggle between discomfort with strangers and natural curiousity is headed for a cataclysmic collision as our tablemates approach.

She: she is gorgeous. Starting from the top and working my way down - beautiful blonde hair cascading down to just below her shoulders; brilliant blue eyes; a cute button of a nose and delicious, full (but not fake and puffy) lips; amazing breasts (possibly embellished?) bursting forth from the low cut top she is wearing; cute white sweater over her shoulders; shapely legs stemming from a tiny denim mini-skirt. She's in the lower end of the five foot range but built to amazing proportions. I estimate her age at around twenty-five. She is stunning to look at.

He: He is her exact opposite. He is older, probably fifty something. He walks with a cane and a limp to go with it partially as the result of the special heals on his shoes; his hair is dark and clearly thinning; his face very compact, almost hobbit-like. There is nothing attractive about this gentleman and the only thing the two of them have in common is that he isn't very tall either.

He sits on the end and she sits right next to me. I am immediately made uncomfortable by the proximity of a stranger (I don't like to be touched by strangers no matter how attractive) and even more so by the proximity of her exposed bosom. Attempting a side-long glance to take a further look would be excrutiatingly obvious. I make feeble efforts to pull it off by pretending to look around the restaurant. I suspect that everyone at the table knows what I am doing though I attempt subtlety.

The night pours on. I imbibe in several Asahis with sake bombers. "Charlie", our teppanyaki chef comes out and performs magic with his holstered knife and metal spatula. The obligatory onion fire "volcano" goes off with perfection. Shrimp fly through the air and land precisely on plates...while my obsession continues.

Are they "together"? Like a date? Is He her father? Is She a hooker? Are they friends? Was this a blind date gone wrong?

I want to know.

This continues for an hour and a half while we drink and dine and talk among our group of six. The two of them talk although the restaurant buzz is too loud to hear what they say to one another. God knows I try.

Our six and their two finish eating at the same time. That's how these tables work. We pay our bill at the same time. She pays their bill - odd.

We leave at the same time.

I watch them as they leave. She moves with confidence, grace and beauty as she walks through the restaurant and through the door. He struggles to limp along behind her. She disappears well ahead of him, not waiting for him and seemingly not noticing him falling behind.

I wait in the entryway of the restaurant while part of my group straggles behind taking care of last minute business. Through the door, by the curb, I see Him waiting. She pulls up in a silver Honda Accord; He gets in. They drive away. I stand there.

Wondering.