Chapter 48: Waiting for dinner

Jesse had a nice BMW, and Jenny memorized the license plate of it before he opened the door for her. The dress fell open as she turned towards him in her seat. She gathered up the sides and tried to hold it down with her clutch purse and hand. She leaned over to unlock his door and unlatch it as he was going around to the driver's side.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked her. The only places she could think of that she had been to recently have been the center of very provocative behavior on her part; the dinner theatre and the restaurant in the garment district, with the floor line about eye level. She didn't want to repeat any of these performances, but at least knew she had not run into anybody she knew in any of these places. She thought the one in the garment district was more remote from her house and least likely place to run into anybody she knew. She gave him the address to Guinevere's and he typed it into the GPS.

They parked the car and went in. Since it was Friday night, and they had no reservations, there was quite a wait. The hostess took Jenny's cell phone and plugged a number into it. The phone would give them a ten minute notice before their table was ready, and they could come back from wherever they were.

They went outside and Jesse decided to stroll through the park across the street. There were paved walk paths meandering through the park, nice landscaped gardens, statues, water fountains, and park benches scattered around the two acre site.

He held Jenny's hand as she walked around the park pointing out the different trees, unusual flowers and explaining the history of the park. Even though the park was rather deserted, several couples and a few joggers passed them when they stopped to talk. Jesse spotted a park bench under a tree that was just off of the main path. The park lights were on, and the eight foot high path lighting did not cover that park bench as well as the others.

Jesse thought he would sit there with her to wait for their table. When they got a little closer, they noticed an elderly man sitting there by himself. He was probably in his late seventies. He was well dressed, but the clothes were a little dated. He moved to one end, to show the bench was big enough for them too.

Jenny sat at the far end and Jesse sat next to her. When she sat, the dress opened up, and when she crossed her legs, it rode up even further. She laid her purse on the juncture of her open dress. They made small talk about some of the more unusual flowers they had seen.

Jesse leaned over and whispered into her ear: "This old man over here is probably lonely and he is sitting here just to see the people walk by. This is probably the highlight of his day. I think you could spice up his life a little." Jenny's face reddened. "Why don't you get up and sit on the other side of me?" he asked. Jenny bent over and put her face on her knees with her hands over her eyes. She knew that there was more to come than sitting on the other side of him next to the stranger.

Jenny got up and walked over to a nearby flower bed, trying to clear her head, strengthen her resolve to what she had to do, and conceal her real intention of moving over next to the stranger. When she came back, Jesse had actually scooted over a little, so there was only about three feet between the two men. Jesse patted the bench between them. She forced a smile as she turned and gathered her dress before sitting down. She pulled the dress and cloak back over her crossed legs and held it with her purse. Jesse grabbed her right hand in his right and put his arm around her. "Put your hand down." He said. She put her left hand down on the bench and her dress fell open. She re-crossed her legs, and it went up further. The old man couldn't help notice, but tried not to stare.

"Talk to him." Jesse said. Jenny mentioned how nice the evening was and how nice the flowers looked as she glanced over to him. He nodded his head, afraid to acknowledge her.

"Put your hand in his lap Jenny." Jenny froze. She looked at Jesse, then over at the old man. Her arms felt they were made of lead, as she inched her hand awkwardly across the bench. She let it rest against the side of his leg. He stiffened. She slowly marched her fingers up the side of his leg and put her closed fist in his lap. She slowly forced her fingers to open. The old man looked at her, not knowing how to react. He finally put his left hand over hers.