Well today is the day. Mike, my boss had been trying his luck since I started working for him. I had told him time and time again that I wasn’t interested and hadn’t responded in any way to his incessant flirting. Well ... until this week; this week I had let him know that my old man Patch, was away for the weekend and that was it, he turned up the flirting to max and I began to ... what’s the word, yes, encourage him and come Thursday I agreed to have dinner with him and possible going to a nightclub afterwards the next day.

All day Friday, Mike started making unsubtle hints about the “date” whenever we were alone, so much so I had to tell him to pack it in or he would be dining alone.

Somehow I got through the day, only having to put up with what he seems to think are sexy inviting looks, but are to me anyway, nothing more than perverted smirks.

I go home to find Col just strapping his tent on to the back of his bike, we exchange a few words, kiss goodbye and I watch as he rides away, Jesus, who in their right mind goes off camping in a muddy field at the end of October? especially at our age.

As soon as I can no longer hear his bike I dash up the stairs and sort out clothes that are suitable for a decent restaurant and a night club. I shower and get dressed and text him that I am ready to be picked up. He must have been lurking nearby because less than two minutes later I got a text [outside].

He looked disappointed as I got to his car, he didn’t say why, but I think it was because I hadn’t dressed in your typical LBD, nor was I in high heels and as usual no makeup.

He took us to an upscale restaurant just outside Emmingford on the Oxham road, he had wanted to take me to that really posh one, Les Chat Bacchantes out on the Emmingwell road, but I told him I know someone who works there and suggested the Halcyon. Needless to say, he booked us a table.

At first he acted like a gentleman, you know, opening my door like a chauffeur, taking my coat and pushing my chair in ... why? I suppose he thinks it’s good manners, but to me, it comes across as he thinks I am incapable of doing those things myself?

At first he talked about himself, what a surprise, but when we were handed menus he did seem surprised at the prices, he commented how they were far lower than he expected. You know how the “ladies” menu differs from the man’s, the “ladies” is devoid of prices so I had no idea of the prices, but I got the impression he thought it was going to be a relatively cheap date.

He tried to order for both of us, but I set him right and told the waiter what I wanted, I wondered whether he wanted his cheap date to be the cheapest it could, but he made no objection and even opted to have the same as me.

I can’t remember the name but the hor d’oeuvres were basically two slices of salmon each with a nest of light fresh herbs and a cherry tomato, the tomato having been injected with wine. I teased him with the tomato, sensually licking and miming sucking on the end and as soon as I got his interest, bit it in half, he stifled his groan but a man watching from a nearby table wasn’t so discrete and reacted with a loud ooooh and his date responded with an equally loud laugh.

For the main course we had and I remember this one, pork Ardenaisse, it’s basically pork steaks in a wine and cream sauce, they served it with boiled new potatoes and green beans.

He didn’t say anything but I think the couple that had responded to my earlier tease were pissing him off, by being louder than his expectations of decorum. Several times he looked over at them with a disapproving stare whenever they were a little loud.

For dessert we had I think they called a pistachio and limoncello tiramisu, it had a few cherries on top giving me a chance again to tease and again the observer on the nearby table gave a louder ooooh and his companion an even louder and dirtier laugh.

Then came the bill, the expression on his face was priceless, and to my surprise, he complained. He was saying he had totalled up the prices and it should have been £87:55, not the £457:55 that the bill showed. Both the menu and the wine menu were brought to the table with a calculator for him to use. He then argued that the prices on the wine menu had been drastically changed and they were charging for three bottles of wine and we had had only one.

I gently told him we had indeed had three and that he had drunk most of them and just as gently suggested he had perhaps consumed more than he thought. For a few seconds I thought he was going to get past just being rude and obnoxious and actually get violent, but I reached over and took his hand, a few strokes on his hand and a willing smile got him to throw his card on the tray telling them there would be no tip.

His card was processed, and there was an object on the tray that sort of looked like one of those vape thingies that people are using now instead of cigarettes.

The bloke that had been waiting on us all evening said,” sir, a number of our patrons recently have been breathalysed after leaving here, we offer a breathalyser to our customers to help prevent the inconvenience of a loss of licence”.

Of course Mike didn’t accept it graciously, he demanded to know what it would cost him and pleasantly the waiter told him there was no charge. He snatched it up and blew into it, it showed a yellow light, the waiter then explained he had to blow into it until it beeped.

He blew into it again, it beeped and then a few moments later it beeped again, this time the light was red and the display read 048, the waiter looked at it and said, perhaps you would stay and have some coffee to give you time to reduce the readout, althou...”

“No, I’ll be alright,” Mick interrupted.

I told him straight, “I am not getting into the car if you are driving, give me the keys or I am going home alone by taxi.”

I snatched the box from the waiter and blew into it until it beeped, when it beeped again, the read out was 27, I knew I was allowed up to 35.

Without a word Mick begrudgingly handed me the keys to his pride and joy, an old series one E-type desperately needing some TLC.

When his card and the receipt was returned he stuffed them in his wallet and strode for the exit, I apologised and thanked the waiter for the food and service, slipping him a twenty as I did.

I put my coat on and walked out to the jag, he was frantically fumbling through his pockets, I realised he was looking for his keys and giggled. He glared at me until I held them up and rattled them in my hand.

I think it was just a reflex, but his hand shot out as though he was going to insist on driving, but I just slowly shook my head in refusal. Sheepishly he walked around the car to the passenger side and waited for me to get in the drivers side and unlock his door, no central locking on a 1964 car. I toyed with the idea of just driving off and leaving him stranded but I didn’t even tease him by moving forwards a couple of metres I just reached over and opened the door.

As soon as he had sat down he started telling me what he intended doing to me when we got to my house. I didn’t answer him. He started to try and put his arm over my shoulders, a ridiculous thing to try with those seats, he gave that up and laid his hand on my thigh, because I didn’t immediately object he slid his hand upwards.

“You’ve got to be kidding after that display,” I growled. I would loved to have seen the expression on his face as he snatched his hand away but I had my eyes on the road as two motorcycles passed us.

He didn’t say much else on the journey until it was obvious I was going to his house and not mine.

“No!” he almost shouted, “we can’t go here, my wife’s at home, I thought we were going to your house.”

“If you hadn’t been such an arse when you paid, we would have, but you’ve got another thing coming if you think your getting anywhere with me tonight. I’ve never been so embarress...”

Interrupting me and louder than considered polite, he said, “I’m sorry, but it was a shock to get charged nearly four hundred quid more than I thought I was going to pay, but come on, I spent nearly five hundred quid on you tonight.”

“No you didn’t, our meals were just over sixty quid each, you drank nearly all the rest.”