A Fantasy about Love Pt. 04

"Do you remember that he called you a little mouse -- may I suggest that we show him who you really are?"

She jumped up, smiling maliciously and very excited about the idea.

"May I go to a good hairdresser? Mom knows someone here in Sydney. And I'll have a manicure and a massage and a face mask and ... Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I thought I had you for myself today and now you are planning to go away for how many hours? Hairdresser, manicure, massage, and what else? Six hours? Seven? Just to impress Peter? Be yourself and he will be overwhelmed!"

"My love, I want to make a glamorous entrance. Long dress, makeup, the whole deal. May I do this at least once? I'll show him what a little mouse is! I'll make it up to you later, I swear!"

What could I do? She jumped out from the bed, jumped back again and gave me her breasts to kiss, leaned down and kissed George.

"Hi, best friend. Good morning and thank you for taking me last night with love and strength! I love you, too; not as much as James and don't be sad, there is nothing or nobody I could love as much, but you're always very welcome in me!"

She ran to the bathroom, yelling that I should make breakfast because she had no time left. I wondered what had happened to the lazy morning cuddle but did as ordered. She came to the kitchen dressed in a very proper blue top, tennis shorts and some running shoes. Giving me a quick kiss, she stuffed herself with toast and jam, drank black coffee and vanished to the living room to make phone calls. The only thing left for me was to clean up and see what she needed now. She told me that she had called her Mom and that Eileen had arranged already time in a spa for massage, etc. etc. Would I please get her there? She was late already and I better hurry.

I got her there in record time and she jumped out.

"I'll call you when I'm ready! You´ll have to dress formally and tell Peter that I want to go to the most elegant restaurant in Sydney! " and there I was, all alone in my car without knowing what to do. I went back to the flat and called Peter.

"Peter, my friend, Maureen is in Sydney and wants to go out to dinner with you and me. She said that you still owe her a dinner from the night you expulsed us from your house. May I suggest that you pay your debt, and she wants the most elegant restaurant in town and formal clothes!"

Peter was silent for a moment and then asked me: "Are you certain that you know what you are doing? I know the right place, but it's a very elegant and snobby venue, and it's quite expensive. I know that you're engaged to her, but do you really want to get her into an environment that she's not accustomed to?"

"Well, if you are afraid of the bill, I'll pay it. Maureen just wants to go out tonight and since you're a friend (or at least she believes that you are a friend) she wants to do this in style! Are you OK with it?"

"Well, you're my friend and since she's your fiancée, I'll do it. Consequences are on you, James!"

I asked him to call me where and when and made tea. It was not the formal thing that happens when I was in Brisbane, but I did know how to brew a decent Earl Grey tea, and my tea service was not shabby, either. Considering that I was abandoned and lonely, I got my Cuban rum bottle out and poured a few drops into the tea. It was a considerable improvement and I needed some support. Then I put 'Carmen' on the speakers with full loudness (damn the neighbors) and listened to poor Dom José getting seduced out of his mind. Served Carmen right to get killed -- how could she do this to him? He had this wonderful relationship with Micaela and then, just on a whim, she destroyed his name and career.

At noon Maureen called me between stages of her treatment and said that Mom had called a boutique, where the owner was a good friend of hers and had some dresses sent over for her to decide what she might wear at night. I told her that this was getting out of control -- all we had was dinner with a friend, but she said quite firmly that she would make him swallow the 'little mouse' remark. Would I also send a car over to pick her up when she was ready? The Porsche would not do it. And would I eat on my own? She would get lunch at the spa and perhaps I could prepare tea at about six o'clock when she expected to be home? Then she would need another 45 minutes to be ready to go out. And I should not forget that she loved me and I would get a really great reward tonight.

"Ma'am, Yes, Ma'am ..." was the only response, but I realized she had hung up already. Lord and Master! Hah!

Later Peter called me and said that he had called in some favors and that we had reservations at The Rocks at the Quay and at seven o'clock.

"Please be on time -- they cancel if you are 10 minutes late. You wanted the best restaurant and this is it."

He mentioned that it was recently appointed as one of the best 60 restaurants in the world and I should prepare my credit card. I was his friend, but this was out of his class.

I called the car company to pick up Maureen and to be at our disposal tonight (it is nice to have the means to go out on a limb once in a while and burn money) and waited for Maureen to appear.

When she opened the door, she called out loud for me not to stare as she was not ready yet. Obviously I did watch her and it was a strange sight. Her hair in curlers, her cheeks covered in some mask, a white robe covering her from shoulder to feet, and a dress hanger in her hand. She glared at me when I started to make a comment about her strange appearance.

"James, I love you, but please get out of my way. I need coffee in twenty minutes and then you have your love back. This is a once in a lifetime performance and please forgive me, but this time, I wanted to do it."

She vanished in our bedroom and I stood there, probably with a rather stupid impression on my face. What had I gotten myself into? Where was Maureen, my love and future wife? It was already getting late and I advised her to hurry up, she had no more than twenty minutes before we had to leave. She grunted something and I went to get coffee ready. I had dressed already in a blazer, dark grey slacks, a white, button-down dress shirt and a red and blue Jim Thomson tie -- quite nice, if I may say so.

The door opened and a woman -- no, a lady -- came out who I had difficulties to recognize. Could she be a creature from outer space? She was looking at me and after a while she said: "James, please pick up your chin from the floor."

There was a woman I did not recognize.

It was a stunning creature that left you with your senses somehow dimmed. She had her hair done up high, her lustrous color emphasized by little brilliant pieces that seemed to keep it in place. There was a lot of glimmer like stardust had been sprayed over her hair. Then slowly looking down there was a face that, as Christopher Marlowe wrote over 400 years ago, could have launched a thousand ships. Her huge eyes were emphasized by dark green makeup, her cheeks with a light blush, and her full lips with a bright red gloss. She wore big red and green opal earrings -- they were new to me -- and on her slender neck was the pendant I had given her as my first present. On her finger was the opal ring, and on her left arm a diamond bracelet that shone from afar. Her dress denied a definition whether it was decent or not: it was light beige with lots of lace that led one to question whether it was transparent or not; the décolleté was showing off the swell of her pert breasts; and the dress fell down to her feet showing her slender figure to her best advantage. The green sandals demonstrated her small and beautiful feet; over all, she was a stunning and gorgeous woman and completely unknown to me.

She looked at me and her smile slowly diminished.

"Don't you like it? It's for you, my love!"

I gazed at her and only said that she was absolutely beautiful, but not the woman I loved. She was a woman who had spent a day to be produced to be admired, but not the woman I had kissed and loved since I first saw her. Her face fell and she started to cry.

"My love, I did this just for you, so that you can be proud of me when we enter that restaurant. I wanted that every man in the room is jealous and every woman envious that we are the perfect couple."

"Maureen, I'm proud of you and want to show you off whether you wear something like this or just a little dress -- I care only about you; I admit that it's wonderful when we enter a public room and people's eyes light up when they see you in your beauty. I'm just overwhelmed now; please forgive my reaction."

"James, if you don't like this, I'll take it off and dress differently as I have a cocktail dress with me. It will just take five minutes to change and take off the makeup."

I recovered from my shock and smiled at her.

"My love, you are stunning, and I am proud to be with you. This is just a different side of you that I had not seen before. I love you whatever you wear or not wear. Let's go to the restaurant; the little mouse will have her grand entrance. Let me just take a photograph of you for me to look at whenever I'm alone."

The car was waiting, and I was amused when I saw the face of the driver staring at Maureen, but he recovered fast and I opened the door for her. We arrived at the Rock with a few minutes to spare and when we entered, there was a moment of silence. Then there was a few whispers and stunned silence again. Heads turned and people stared: as Maureen had wanted it, the women seemed to be jealous (or envious) and the men envious (or jealous). It was the grand entrance she had wanted.

Peter was already there on a table in a small alcove at the end of the dining room and turned around when the room became silent. He looked at me, started to smile and then looked at Maureen. The smile stopped and was replaced by a look of utter astonishment. He shook his head to clear his vision and looked again. It was obviously me, but who was the woman at my side? We came closer and it slowly dawned on him. He closed his eyes once more and getting up, he took Maureen's hand and kissed it.

Maureen looked at him and when he looked back, she said: "Squeak! Squeak!"

He looked at me without knowing what to think or to say. I just shrugged.

"Hi, Peter. This is your little mouse. Squeak! Squeak!"

He gave up and asked for help. "James, could you explain to me what is happening?"

"Peter, remember when you told me that 'that little girl' was not for me, since she was just a 'little mouse'? The little mouse just wanted to show you how wrong you were!"

Peter blushed all over -- the first time I had ever seen this on a man and started to say something. He stopped and started again, and stopped. I reminded him of the saying that once you discovered that you were in a hole, you should stop digging? He took my advice.

"Maureen, I apologize for my remarks. You are definitively not a little girl, nor are you a little mouse. You are a beautiful and stunning woman, and I start to wonder whether James is the right person for you. Knowing him, I believe that you deserve better!"

"Peter, I believe that you lost another friend right now!"

Maureen looked at me with that big smile of hers and took my hand.

"Peter, he's everything I want in this life, and I know that he thinks the same about me. Since you introduced me to him, I forgive you the little mouse. Squeak!"

She looked around and saw most faces still staring at her. For them, Peter and I did not exist.

The decoration of the restaurant was exquisite, modern with Scandinavian decors. The harbor views through the floor to ceiling windows were spectacular with the Harbor Bridge to the left and the Opera House to the right. It was a quiet environment with piano music just loud enough to drown our neighbors' individual conversations. Crisp white cloths and fine glassware instilled a sense of formality. Slowly the situation came almost back to normal since males were straightened out by their wives and women were brought back to their senses. They never stopped glancing at Maureen, however, but now more discreet.

The maître arrived and asked whether he could be of service now, or whether we wanted a few more minutes. We looked at Maureen and she decided to order now. It was an almost fixed menu, with four courses and two choices within each course. I knew what I wanted almost immediately, but Maureen and Peter started to discuss food and matching wines. Once the maître realized that he had two oenophiles at the table, he called the sommelier and the discussion started. They looked at me occasionally, but perceived rapidly that I was out of their class.

I selected the raw smoked wagyu, the confit pig jowl (I had never even heard of this dish before) and the duck. After ten minutes of hearing a heated discussion on matching wines, old world against new world, grape against grape, vintage against vintage, or a combination of all three, I told them that I liked to drink wines, not to philosophize about them, and asked Maureen to select whatever wine she thought was appropriate. I got up and admired the views over the harbor and the close by Opera House. The sea was chunky, but there were still sailing boats on the water, and the Manly Ferry was just leaving the terminal.

Finally, the three reached a conclusion and called me back. The sommelier complimented me on my fiancé having such an extensive knowledge already at her young age, and that my friend was also a superb connoisseur. Whilst they were agonizing over the selections, we had a bottle of the Charles Heidsieck Brut Réserve Champagne.

Peter had the same entrée as I and Maureen selected the Young Bamboo shoots with abalone. We had the Domaine de Trévallon Vin de Pays and she the Trimbach Clos Ste Hune Grand Cru, a Pinot Gris. For the second dish, Peter selected the pig jowl that I had already asked for, and Maureen the quail with more abalone. That was apparently easy: she the Whisson Lake Le Gris de Noir and we the Tyrrell's Vat 9. Then it became difficult: Maureen had the snapper and could stay with her wine, but Peter wanted the lamb and I the duck. A major discussion evolved, and I was told that I would drink the Phillip Bass The Estate Geelong Pinot Noir, and he the Stonier Reserve, both had fortunately half bottles. They were happy: Maureen, Peter and the sommelier (he I could understand as the wine bill was now way over one thousand dollars).

When he started to take the wine order, I decided to throw some harsh reality into their lives.

"People, I hate to spoil the fun, but did you realize that you went way overboard? Count the bottles of wine you are going to order: you will see there are seven. Who is going to drink all that? I will perhaps drink one bottle: that leaves three bottles for each of you two. Do you want me to call the hospital now or only later?"

They looked at each other and at the sommelier, who realized his bill was gone.

"May I suggest Plan B? The Rocks has a very expansive list of wine by the glass, and I am certain that our friend here can match these wines perfectly with the dishes. After all, we are here to eat, not to get tipsy. If one wants another glass of the same wine, wonderful, order it, but at least we will enjoy the food and the wine. Otherwise you will lose the joy of being here after an hour and tomorrow you will be dead with a hangover."

Now all three looked at me.

"James, you're a spoilsport, but unfortunately, you're right, but it was fun, Maureen, wasn't it?" Peter said.

Now the discussion started again, but now the selections were more restricted and decisions were made faster. The sommelier glared at me, but I just shrugged. He had tried to gorge his customers and I did not like this.

The first dishes arrived, and they were as well prepared and presented as had been promised. The wine was excellent and well matched. Slowly the other dishes came and at the end, we were very satisfied with the quality of the food and the service. The dessert was Snow egg and a glass of the Inniskillin Icewine from Canada, a courtesy of The Rocks.

I asked for the bill and Peter looked at me, seemingly wondering whether I would remember that I had offered to pay -- well, I had been told to offer to pay if I remembered right. I nodded telling him to relax. "Since this is your invitation, you could pay the tips and I'll pay the bill. OK?"

Now I understood Peter's reluctance to go to this restaurant. It was fabulous, but so was the bill. I waited for Maureen to go to the restroom and told him that his part was 250 dollars.

"Just for tips?" he groaned.

"You want to pay the bill, too?"

He declined the offer and gave me the money, and I paid with my card. As I had thought before, it is nice to have the money to burn on these occasions, but only as long as they did not become a routine.

Before we left, I called the maître and told him that I did not like the attitude of the sommelier. He was supposed to help the customer to select the wines they wanted and to enjoy the combination of food and wine, but not to flood them with expensive wines without any regard whether it made sense or not. He was surprised, apologized and said that he would talk to him about this. He asked me also to come back and the next meal would be a courtesy of the Rocks; he did not say anything about the wine, however.

When we said good-bye, Peter took Maureen's hand and kissed it. "You are a very pleasant joy for my eyes; James is very happy to have you, and I'm happy that I got the two of you together."

Maureen leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheeks. "Peter, I'll never forget this. You are my friend -- and if this little mouse ever needs help, she'll come to you." She fluttered her eye lashes at him. "Squeak!"

We all laughed and went home.

When we arrived, Maureen was visibly tired. She asked me to help her out of her dress; by the way, it was not transparent, it gave, however, imagination free room to fantasize, and she was mine again, not anymore that wondrous creature from outer space. She stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth and lay down, waiting for me. I did whatever was necessary for me and went back to the bedroom. There she was, stretched out on her side, and soundly asleep. I got into our bed and kissed her lightly on her lips and the two tips of her breasts. She whispered: "James, I promised you a reward, but I'm tired. You can have me if you want, but could we wait for tomorrow?"

I kissed her and she was asleep again. What expectations I had for this day and how differently it turned out! But she was my love, and as long as she was happy, so was I.

When I woke up, she was still asleep. I slowly crept out of the bed, brushed my teeth and went to make coffee. Reading the newspaper and drinking my first cup of the day, I was suddenly pummeled by a crying Maureen.

"You left me! How could you do this? I love you and you left me!"

I did not understand anything and took her in my arms. "What happened, my love? Did you have a nightmare?"

She looked at me and continued crying.

"You left me and walked away from me! You don't love me anymore! Why did you do this?"

I still did not understand anything and looking into her eyes, said quite firmly: "Maureen, wake up! What is happening to you?"

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me quite scared. "James, I woke up and you were not there. I had dreamed that you left Australia and left me behind. I had begged you to take me with you, but you just laughed and said that there were other women in other countries. How could you do this?"

I shook her a bit and demanded that she woke up. "Maureen, you're with me and you had a bad dream. Wake up!"

She shook herself and observed me intently. Finally, with her eyes wide open, she seemed to wake up. "James, I dreamed that you left me!"