Chapter 12: With Girlfriends like These...

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

Weddings are supposed to have bridal showers. That was not going to happen, given the time available. However, Aunt Frannie knows a lot of people, so a bridal bash was fairly easy. It was at a club called Le Chat Noir, which means the black cat. Aunt Frannie claims it was named after Mom. People have called Mom "the Cat"--who wouldn't—but the idea is still silly. Isn't it?

Siobhan:

After the fashion show at the costume warehouse, I changed back to my skirt suit, but managed to get stuck with the tall black pumps. The sandals had been surprisingly comfortable. These shoes were not. Jerome quipped, "If they ain't hurtin', they ain't helpin.'" Live and learn.

Francine took us to a nearby surf and turf restaurant. We waltzed by a line at the door and were seated immediately. Our table had an excellent view of Gravesend Bay. The last light of the day turned the western sky to indigo and violet. The bay water reflected royal blue. It was gorgeous.

Servers brought water and menus before I had was even seated. As usual, CC was at my elbow, helping my balance. Francine was seated so that she could see the room. There had been a shrimp cocktail already at the table. I assumed it was for everyone, but watched as Francine went through it, two prawns at a time. Before she was finished, coffee arrived and they left the carafe. When she realized everyone at the table was staring, Francine said that she owned the restaurant, which did explain a few things.

It was one of those places where the menu has no prices, except for the person getting the bill. That would not be me. Francine had also tried to pick up the $3000 at the warehouse store. Since she was a well known performer, I expected her to be well off, but this was beginning to feel like serious money. It was something to consider. From her story earlier, Francine felt she owed Sheila a great deal. Debts and money go together, unless money cannot be used to pay the debt. With Sheila, that was entirely possible.

Dinner was not uneventful. I ordered steak and lobster—an 8 oz. steak and a one pound lobster tail. CC picked up the menu and pointed to a line. It turned out to be lobster scampi on linguine. Sheila ordered a dozen oysters and a grilled chicken on arugula salad. Francine ordered a 16 oz porterhouse and two whole lobsters, with a side of linguine alfredo.

The oysters arrived first. Sheila indicated that we were invited to share. Francine circled her finger twice. Another two dozen oysters were brought to the table, along with six varieties of hot sauce and a bowl of cut lemons. I had fun feeding some to CC, who was a shell fish virgin. She looked at the first one dubiously, but ate without verbal protest. The second one I doused with lemon. CC enjoyed that combination. For the third, I used Texas Pete, which is a moderately spicy pepper sauce. CC smiled at that one, so I upped it to Tabasco, then Melinda's, which was the hottest sauce at the table. CC was still looking for more.

For you non-pepperheads, Melinda's is a venerable habanero sauce. It packs nice heat, but also excellent flavor. It is generally the line between pretenders, like myself, and serious capsicum hounds. I looked at Francine, whose face drew a feral grin. She held up a hand and a waiter appeared. The waiter returned with three bottles: Melinda's Naga, Dave's Ghost and Mad Dog's 44 Magnum. The last one made my eye's widen. I looked at Francine again. She shrugged and ordered something else, probably ice cream.

Our table was drawing attention, which meant a server was at my elbow. I asked for gloves, which he had in his apron. Thus protected, I opened the bottle of Melinda's Red. This was above my comfort level, but at least I had tried this one. I put one drop on an oyster and offered it to CC. She ate it as if it were nothing, but then her eyes got wide and sweat popped out on her forehead. Like a true addict, she nodded. Blessed Jesus, forgive our sins. I opened the Dave's Insanity Ghost Pepper sauce. Just a whiff made me sneeze. CC did not nonchalant this bite, but it went down.

Francine jumped up on her chair. To the room, she asked who had a stop watch. Many people had a stopwatch function on their wristwatch or phone, but someone had an actual dial stopwatch. Holding it high, she nodded to me. I carefully cracked the seal on the Mad Dog's 44 Magnum and opened the bottle. This stuff was supposed to be close to police grade pepper spray. I took a toothpick and stuck it in the bottle, smeared the sauce on an oyster, then very carefully closed the jar.

The entire restaurant watched CC's face as she tasted the oyster. Her eyes got very wide as the heat hit. Sweat popped out all over her face and neck. She chewed a couple of times, then swallowed the bite. Her face took on the euphoric expression that means endorphin rush. Several people around the room did variations on, "Oh my God." After about a minute she looked around, as if to ask what the fuss was about.

Francine announced, "That was impressive. I am Francine Martel, one of the owners. For the next month, anyone that can do that, for one full minute, will win steak and lobster for four. You will have to buy the bottle and there will be a medical waiver. Ice cream will be included at no charge, win or lose. However, the steak and lobster, or equivalent, has to be ordered and paid before the attempt. I may be short, but I'm not stupid." That brought laughter and applause.

At that point, our food was served, so everyone was able to focus on something else. I asked CC to show me her tongue. Sure enough, it was blistered in two places. She also looked decidedly pleased with herself. I leaned over and said, "That was naughty. Do you know what happens to naughty girls?" Suddenly the smell of sex was in the air. Sheila said, "Siobhan, stop playing with your food. We're in public."

Both CC and I blushed at that one.

Sheila:

I had been hoping for a quiet meal and a start home. Such was not to be. I love oysters on the half shell, so I ordered a dozen as an appetizer. Naturally Francine bumped it to three dozen. That would have been fine, except Siobhan started to play pepper sauce chicken with Christine, or should I say, Tess. Two bites in, I could see where this game was headed. They started in the middle and quickly went up the scale. Clearly Siobhan was familiar and, just as clearly, Christine was not.

The problem with playing chicken is knowing when to flinch. Knowing Christine as I did, that would not happen. Hotter sauces were requested. One I recognized by brand, but two I did not. Siobhan did, because she requested gloves. Francine made the final attempt a scene for the whole restaurant. After Tess swallowed the bite, I recognized the expression on her face. It was the same glow she gets from a serious pussy whipping. Fortunately, our food was served. Less fortunately, Siobhan pursued the matter further. I told her to act her age.