Katie and The Pizza Man

"Mr. Dunsford, Rodney. It's a pleasure to see both of you again," as he rose to shake the elder man's hand.

"You know I had lunch with your parents the other evening and asked about you. You don't seem to spend a lot of time with the family as much as you used to," the elder man offered.

"I manage to keep myself busy enough. I guess I haven't taken the time to talk with my parents in a few weeks. I thank you for mentioning it, I'll make an effort to call them."

The younger man looked me over slowly, then looked back to Clark, "You know Leslie wouldn't mind getting a call either."

Clark replied without emotion, "I'll keep that in mind too. Please, I've forgotten my manners, this is my date, Katie Krause. Katie, this is Mr. Carl Dunsford, and his son Rodney. They're business associates of my father's dealing in real estate."

Both men greeted me pleasantly, as I did them. Then the older gentleman bade us goodbye, then looked at his son. "I'll be at our regular table, join me when you're ready."

I watched as the older man talked towards the rear of the large dining room and took a seat at a table as a waiter walked briskly over to greet him. I returned my gaze to Rodney, who stood appraising me as if I were a mannequin in a storefront. I felt as if he were undressing me, I wanted to pull the open front of my dress closed to deny him the pleasure seeing my cleavage. Instead, I clasped my hands together in front of me blocking his view, elbows on the table--not very ladylike, but effective as I gave him a sweet smile.

"I see you're still able to attract the most beautiful women. Perhaps you should join us at the annual company picnic to show her off. I'm sure it would please your parents, and Leslie."

Of course, the mention of someone named Leslie, who I thought for sure was a woman, for the second time drew my attention. A past girlfriend? A female relative?" I was also sure it was a dig at Clark meant to embarrass, or provoke him.

"Rodney, I'll give it due consideration. Now, shouldn't you spend some time with your father? I'm sure you have important matters to discuss."

I could tell Clark was trying to be calm and polite in his reply. It wasn't entirely convincing, at least to me.

"Enjoy your evening Ms. Krause, it was a pleasure to meet you. I would very much enjoy doing so again," Rodney offered as he turned to leave with a smirk. He joined his father, facing away from us when he sat down.

I turned to Clark, "He wasn't exactly nice to you."

"That's Rodney, being Rodney. He doesn't act that way in front of his father. He likes to be abrasive when he knows you won't make a scene."

"So, who's Leslie?"

"His younger sister," he replied matter-of-factly.

I was about to ask another question about their relationship, then thought better of it. I would have played into Rodney's game plan and I wasn't about to do that to Clark. I decided to play it cool by suggesting I had considered other possibilities.

"Oh. I might have guessed that."

"Have you made a decision as to whether you would like to stay to eat?"

After having seen how Rodney had treated him I knew I wasn't going to embarrass him by our getting up and leaving. Rodney would likely take pleasure in it--thinking he had been the reason for our departure. I'd never been prone to letting a rude person get their way, and this wasn't going to be an exception.

"I think I'll have the lobster tail," as I reached over to place my hand on Clark's with a smile.

I listened as he told me about his family, and why he wasn't exactly on the best of terms with them--more so his father. They wanted him to take over his father's business, and he had no interest whatsoever in real estate. So, it seemed to me he took a menial job far below his level of education to support himself to spite them. As it turned out, he had four years of college with a degree in Business Administration--I never would have guessed.

It seemed a rather immature approach to the problem given what I knew. So, the question remained--how could he could afford to work for so little delivering pizzas, and have evenings to spend with us at the bar once a week? Even more so, take me out to an expensive restaurant--maybe he'd been given an inheritance? I had never known anyone who had gotten one, but I'd heard of them--so I figured why not him.

After dinner we went to the ballroom located at the end of the building, found a small table for two to talk until the disk jockey started playing songs. We danced to four fast tunes and I had to admit he was a good dancer--the way he moved his hips really got my attention. We returned to our table to talk as a few fast songs played, sipping our drinks. There weren't a lot of people present, so it was on the quiet side--even the disc jockey had it dialed down so people could talk to one another without having to talk loudly.

When a slow ballad started Clark looked at me with a grin, "Now, this is where I find out if you're relaxed or not."

We started dancing far apart, my hand in his, my other hand on his shoulder, his hand high on my back--the way my mother would like me to dance I thought. Now dancing was something I really enjoyed. I had danced with some god-awful partners, and thankfully, some excellent ones. Clark ranked right up there with the best of them I decided after we had danced for a few minutes.

We talked as we danced, and after a few minutes he said quietly, "You're a little stiff, come on relax Katie I'm not going to bite you here on the dance floor."

I didn't feel completely relaxed for a reason--while we were dancing I noticed Rodney standing in the doorway watching us. I made sure not to look his way again, and didn't know if Clark saw him or not. The way Rodney had looked at me still bothered me--it was as if he felt he was entitled to undress me slowly with his eyes.

I looked up into Clark's eyes, "Sorry, I'm a little rusty."

"If you're a little rusty I'm in big trouble, just when I think I know a woman I find out I really don't."

"I'm not really that complicated. I work in an office, I talk with my girlfriends a few times a week after I eat alone, read for a while, and go to sleep. Oh yeah, once a week I go wild and go to the local bar to hang out with a few friends--that's me. You do well enough at the bar with women from what I've seen. I'm sure I'm just one in a long line of female admirers."

"You give me far more credit than I deserve. I work in the pizza business, read for pleasure at home to keep myself out of trouble, and like you, go the bar once a week to have some fun. I know a few women well. In fact, I like the company of women, at least intelligent ones, who can carry on a conversation without saying 'like' three times in a single sentence."

I laughed, "Well you have...like, some pretty tough requirements, like, you know, like it's hard, you know, dance with a guy who likes to talk a lot. Like, it makes it difficult."

He started laughing, his eyes looking deep into mine, "Katie, why wouldn't I like to spend time with you? You're sharp, and good-natured. You're mature, and confident, qualities I admire. At the bar you hide what I see now with a veneer of sports babble."

I felt myself grow warm at his description--it was both charming, and all too accurate. I did talk with him differently than I did the others in our group. For the first time, I felt as if he knew me far better than perhaps I knew myself. I enjoyed reading history, even some science, plus fact-based drama fiction. Things my girlfriends, and people at work knew little about--they were all about the most recent TV series or what celebrities were doing to ruin their lives.

I felt him pull me closer, and I felt myself relax, our faces closer than before. He looked into my eyes as I looked into his, and I felt my legs go weak. Damn! I wasn't expecting this kind of reaction from myself. It was our third date, and I felt as if he could take me right there on the dance floor, and knew I wouldn't care. I felt my face flush hot, and that wasn't the only place.

"Now, you seem to be more comfortable. Katie, I wasn't sure how you would react, but I think holding you closer worked. What do you think?"

"It's okay," I lied. It felt absolutely wonderful.

"Only okay? Maybe we just need to dance a few more slow dances, then I can ask you again. I've never been satisfied with an 'okay,' especially from an attractive woman."

We finished dancing as a fast song started to play. I needed to collect myself, and said I needed to use the ladies room as we walked to our table. He sat down as I headed to the hallway where the bathrooms were located, feeling as if I weren't in total control of my emotions. I was confused. All he had done was have me dance a little closer to him--our bodies hadn't even come into contact, but it had affected me greatly.

Once inside the bathroom I found it exquisite--it was cleaner and better furnished than some apartments I'd been in. I looked in the mirror, my reflection showed my face with a slight flush as was my lower chest--damn! It was a good thing the ballroom was dimly lit--otherwise, it wouldn't have been difficult to see I was hot, and it couldn't have been put down to the exertion of dancing slowly. So much for my decision to wear a low cut dress.

I took a few deep breaths, and told myself I shouldn't let him hold me any closer. I was pretty sure I would be nothing but putty in his hands if I did. My reaction to him flustered me while at the same time it made him a marvelously dangerous man--the thought of a serial killer entered my mind again.

I walked back to our table, and sat down across from him as he looked at me with a smile. "Are you up for a few more dances, or are you ready to go home and relax?"

I knew I should cut and run, but the exhilaration of being so turned-on was enticing, intoxicating--I wanted to feel my body warm and glow again. The thought occurred to me--maybe I was masochistic by inflicting this kind of torture on myself. "I wouldn't mind another slow dance or two before we leave," I replied, sure there was a hint of hesitancy in my voice.

"Only if you're sure, it's getting late, and you have work tomorrow don't you?"

"Yes, I guess you're right. But one more dance won't matter," trying to show him my confident side now that I had committed myself.

We danced as before, not any closer. He didn't make an effort to hold me any differently, and after a minute he looked at me. "Nice to see you've relaxed a bit more, perhaps next time we dance it will be even more enjoyable for you."

I smiled, "You're a very good dancer. When you told me you might step on my feet I wasn't sure if you were kidding me or not."

My body was again growing warm, all the way down. So, he wanted to dance with me again--a thought that thrilled me. We finished the dance, and we walked slowly towards the exit I was feeling quite alright with the world.

"Katie, I need to use the men's room before I take you home. I'll be right back."

I was waiting patiently when the door to the ladies room opened, and a beautiful brown-haired woman in a stunning dress stepped out, smiled, and started to walk past me. Then she stopped after a few steps and turned to me, "You're here with Clark aren't you?"

I was surprised at the question, but I collected myself. "Yes."

"Please tell him Leslie sends her warm regards, I'm sure you had a wonderful time with him."

I watched as she walked away and met another woman about her age as they walked into the dining room together. A few seconds later Clark came out of the men's room. So, that was Leslie--I felt like a cheap knockoff in my red dress in comparison to her--she was gorgeous. Clark took my hand as we started to walk out--the first time ever, and my heart jumped into my throat. I felt such a rush--the warm glow that had slowly faded now returned with a vengeance.

"A woman named Leslie sends her warm regards," I said simply, and watched his face as a small smile appeared.

"Did she now? What did you think of her?"

"She's beautiful."

"Yes, she is. But Katie, you're beautiful in ways she isn't, and never will be. Remember that."

His reply delivered without a great deal of emotion from what I could see. It wasn't hard to see they knew one another, but their relationship now, or in the past, remained unclear to me. I decided not to ask--we all have a past, and I had enjoyed the evening despite my initial reservations. I felt I had made the right decision to stay. After all, he had promised not to take me where it would cost him too much--what more could I have asked for? The lobster tail was delicious, and the thought of my tail being warmed was naughty, but nice--I would have to shower when I got home.

He walked me to my door, and bade me goodnight--there was no goodnight kiss, but the hug was longer than it needed to be between friends. I gave him a peck on the cheek, smiled, and told him I had really enjoyed the evening.

Ten minutes later, I was standing nude in the bedroom when my phone chimed saying I had a text message. I looked at the message and jumped onto the bed with a smile, it read, "I miss you already."

Two days later it was bar night for our gang and when I arrived Clark wasn't present yet. I was talking with Maggie when Clark appeared, and took a seat across from me as the chair to the other side of me occupied by Sara. We all greeted Clark and conversation continued as before.

Maggie looked at me, "I'm going to change seats with Clark so you two can talk, okay?"

I nodded with a smile--she was setting me up, or rather us up. Clark sat down with a smile that drew me in as we started talking. It was about fifteen minutes later when he suggested I meet him in his apartment in a few minutes. I nodded, then watched as he left out the front door of the bar.

So, here I was in the dimly lit stairwell leading to his apartment, my stomach filled with butterflies. He had missed me, and I had missed him--what does this mean when you haven't even kissed each other yet? My body was telling me one thing, my mind the other--but they were closer in agreement than ever before.

I took a deep breath as I reached the top of the stairs where I found two doors across from one another. At first, I was confused as to which I should knock on--then I heard music coming from behind one of them, then noticed light under the door. I knocked gently and heard Clark's voice call me to come in. I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me, my heart beating a tattoo in my ears--the butterflies had escaped, no longer a concern. I put a smile on my face, "So, this is your place?"

"Katie, are you nervous?"

"No, not really. I guess I'm curious more than anything," as I looked around knowing it wasn't entirely true.

"Understandable, please come and sit down. Would you like something to drink? I have Coke if you would like, but I have fruit juices, and even a few beers."

"Coke sounds good," I noticed he had a Coke open for himself sitting on the coffee table.

It was a larger apartment and furnished nicely--nothing extravagant, but everything was clean and tidy. In comparison with my last two boyfriends apartments it was miles ahead in term of cleanliness. The kitchen looked well organized, and items on the counter tops suggested he used it on a regular basis. There was a hallway that I assumed led to the bedroom and a bathroom. Clark handed me a glass with Coke and ice in it and sat down at the end of the sofa facing me--he wasn't going to have me drink from a bottle as he was doing.

"Well, what do you think? It's not much, but it's mine."

"Clark, I wasn't expecting it to look...I don't know...nice. After walking up the stairs I was expecting walls with holes in them and peeling paint. I think it looks comfortable, inviting, I like your tastes in decorating."

"Well, the stairs tend to deter anyone from coming up unless they're invited; which isn't all bad."

"So, who lives in the apartment across the hall? I didn't see a light on, or is it empty?"

"Its office space for a small company, so that means I don't have to put up with noisy neighbors after working hours," then with a grin, "a plus given past experiences."

I felt relaxed as we talked, then noticed he had a picture on the bookcase I assumed was of his family, as he was in it. He apparently saw me gaze at it, got up, and brought it back to show me.

"That's my Dad--John, Mother--Thelma, brother--Dennis, and sister--Sheryl, and of course myself taken two years ago. I know I've only mentioned them briefly, but I'm always happy to see my brother and sister. Being the oldest, Dad always thought I should be the one to follow in his footsteps, and not either one of them. Frankly, Dennis would be the best fit for what Dad wants--he just refuses to see it."

"So, I assume they all went to college and are on their own?"

"Yes, Dennis is living an hour away and Sheryl is about three hours away. They're working and doing well."

I was tempted to ask him what they thought about him delivering pizzas for a living, but held myself back. I was mulling over what I should say next when he spoke.

"Katie, let me show you the rest of the apartment. I did some of the work myself, so I'm kind of proud of it. It won't hurt to get another opinion, so be honest. I really want your opinion."

I followed him into the hallway and into a larger bedroom than what I had expected. These older buildings always brought to mind small rooms with but one window. He flipped the light switch on and I was really surprised--the room was large, with windows with sheer curtains on two sides, and a large closet on one wall. I found it tastefully decorated with two posters of music festivals on one wall, and a print by Patrick Nagel, in his distinctive style of a woman labeled Piedmont Graphics on the other. I found that piece particularly attractive, I would have picket it myself for this room.

The queen-sized bed was covered in a patterned black, gray, and white bedspread with a floral pattern that looked wonderful against the off-white walls. The lighting was indirect, composed of a standing floor lamp and a lamp on the nightstand--it gave the room a relaxing, romantic feel. It was hard to imagine it was a man's bedroom once I saw several colorful pillows on the bed in addition to the gray slip-cased pillows. I sat down on the bed and found it firm, but not hard, just as I liked a bed to feel. It was then I noticed the sheet pulled over beneath the pillows. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the fabric--I was in love with his bed!

"I like it, I like it a lot. I think you have a wonderful sense of color and style."

We walked across the hall to the bathroom and when I peeked in I was surprised at its layout and finish. It wasn't garish, but the workmanship and color combinations were impressive. It wasn't a huge bathroom, but it had a shower separated from the toilet area by enough distance you wouldn't feel cramped even with two people at the same time. Again, it had enough softness to it that it felt...well...woman friendly.

"Clark, you had someone do this work for you didn't you?"

Yes, I can do some things, but plumbing and tile work has to be done by a professional to look really good. All I can take credit for is the layout, fixtures, and colors."

To say I was impressed was an understatement. "Clark this is one of the nicest bathrooms I have ever seen. I could strip and take a shower right now just to get a feel for it."

He chuckled.

I realized what I had just said out loud and how it could be taken. I started to flush in embarrassment--I didn't mean to suggest anything more than I really liked it. I looked at him and bit my bottom lip. "I really didn't mean it the way it came out," I mumbled.