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Il Pollo, Tuesday Evening

Cindy didn't have a Valentine's Day date. Normally, she didn't care about stuff like that; she felt that Valentine's Day was ridiculous, though she greatly appreciated the after day chocolate sales, though. This week, however, she was really feeling the lack of a date. Again, not because of Valentine's Day, but because of how...antsy she was.

But she was going to ignore that, and just tuck into a big plate of pasta and pretend like Nothing Was Bothering her. And then maybe she'd head to the gym and work all those calories off--and some of that excess energy, as well.

[Primarily for one, but open as a town thing is!]

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Okay, so the house had been suffering a bit of a... power outage yesterday, which didn't bug Dean so much, except that it meant that he was kind of wary about trying to use the kitchen for anything today. Not to mention that it was just too damn warm to do any cooking...

Dean wasn't blaming that on the antihistamines any more, at least.

In any case, he had figured that tonight was as good a night as any to eat out, and Italian seemed to be the way to go. And once he got to Il Pollo, and he found himself seated not far from someone that he vaguely recognized as a coworker, he was starting to think that maybe eating out wasn't a bad idea for various other reasons that hadn't yet occurred to him.

"Excuse me? I don't suppose this seat is taken, is it?"

It would be a shame to eat alone on Valentine's day, after all.

Cindy glanced up from perusing the wine list--look, she was damn well going to enjoy this meal, dammit--with a slightly distracted smile. That smile got a lot more focused when she realized that the person talking to her was not a waiter, but another teacher.

Another hot teacher.

"Hiiii," she said, a little breathier than she'd've liked. Dammit, she was better than this. "What? Oh, no, no it's not."

She waved at the chair. "Please, sit down. I'd love some...company."

"That would make the both of us," Dean replied, smirking slightly at that breathy note in her voice as he pulled up a chair. "This is definitely the day for it, isn't it?"

It was. Oh, it was, for so many reasons.

"I'm Dean. Art teacher at the school."

Edited 2012-02-15 03:37 (UTC)

"Cindy," she said, extending a slim hand towards him. "Literature, mostly."

And sometimes ass-kicking. On semesters she felt like indulging herself.

She gave him a lingering once-over before adding, "I'm sorry we haven't met before. I'm going to have to be better at getting out of my hotel room."

Her private hotel room. Where nothing was broken or fried electrically. Just saying.

You know, Dean was a beatnik. He could take a hint when it was presented right there in his face like that.

He could also take her hand and shake it, because he was capable of higher functions such as that.

"I really only get out for art supplies or to hang out at the bar," Dean admitted. "I think I might have spotted you at the three-minute dates, actually?"

"Yes!" Cindy said, snapping her fingers. "I remember thinking it was a pity we hadn't gotten matched up."

She'd gotten both of his roommates! She could have collected the set!

"I'm glad we have a chance to get to know one another now, though. No annoying distractions or time limits." She gave him another smile and did the narration really have to specify it was flirty? "I far prefer the more thorough approach."

"You mean, the one where I not only have enough time to offer to buy you a drink, but where you also happen to have enough time to drink it?"

Say it isn't so!

"Exactly that," Cindy said, wrist to her forehead. "However shall we cope?"

"You teach literature and I teach art," Dean replied easily enough. "I'm sure between the two of us, we're capable of being a little bit creative."

You know. A touch.

"Oh, more than a little, I'm sure," Cindy said, giving him a wicked grin. "I know that, I, for one, have a very active imagination."

Which was hard at work right now. Funny what you could think of with the concepts of 'Cindy,' 'Dean,' and 'booth.'

...What were they talking about again?

Dean wasn't entirely certain. He was too busy eyeballing this doll to be able to remember too many of the particulars of the conversation to this point.

"And I've got no doubt in my mind that it's served you well, at that," he replied, grinning right on back. Less wickedly and more casually, granted. But it was totally still a grin. "So, Cindy. You happen to have any plans after dinner? It would be a shame to talk about our imaginations and then not give them any exercise, you know?"

He wasn't usually this incorrigible, but this seemed to him to be a good day for it.

"Why, it just so happens that I don't," Cindy said, giving him a coy smile. "But I love exercise. Especially of the imaginative variety. I don't suppose you'd be interested in coming back to my place for a drink after dinner? Maybe some dessert?"

Of the very dirty variety.

"You know, I've been developing quite the fondness for exercise lately, myself," Dean mused. "And dessert. I'd have to be pretty square to turn down an offer like that."

Dirty dessert? Dean was all for it.

"You know what I always thought being a grown up was about?" Cindy asked, running a finger over her wine glass. "The ability to eat dessert before dinner. Or even instead of dinner. You ever have ideas like that?"

"What good is all that exercise if you can't enjoy your dessert whenever you want to?"

It was sound logic, okay? Perfectly sound logic, as he idly licked his lips, watching her finger for a moment.

"I mean, dinner? Dinner can be had any time. Dessert? That's something that needs to be properly appreciated."

"As slowly and thoroughly as possible," Cindy agreed, her foot inching over towards his underneath the table. "With proper attention to detail. I'm sure your artist's eye--" and his hands, oh yes his hands "--will be very useful for that."

And then her foot started to slide up the inside of his calf. "Though we might need to have more than one. It might be a little difficult to go slow and thorough once." And up his thigh.... "Fortunately, I find myself very hungry."

And then just a little further up than that.

And that 'just a little further up' got an appreciative exhale between Dean's teeth. Was it getting hot in here?

Hotter?

"I'm beginning to think that perhaps we should skip supper and go straight to dessert."

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Il Pollo, Tuesday Evening

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