Feel Me

Martin looked up from the booklet containing the restaurant's menu to the chocolate skinned woman whose face held an impassive expression, dressed in the hotel's dress code for waitresses – a black LBD with the establishment's name engraved in thick gold thread on the left side of her chest. Her thick hair was pulled away from her face into a spongy bun on top of her head. Her dark eyes stared back with blank impatience at him.

"Your order, sir." came her accented voice again with a sliver of impatience like she had somewhere else to be.

He stared dumbly at the woman watching him flatly.

A hand snaked to his and gave a gentle shake meant to snap him out of his reverie. "Martin, your order?"

Martin blinked once, then snapped his gaze to the ivory skinned, slender woman sitting in front of him. Suddenly she paled in comparison to the impatient woman awaiting their order for the past ten minutes. He cleared his slightly dried throat, directing his gaze to the leather-bound booklet containing the restaurant's menu. "I'll have a medium rare steak – with the red wine sauce and a bottle of wine. This one's almost empty." He muttered before staring at his date, "What would you like, Genevieve?"

"The same with his – only I'd like mine with a side of salad tossed with lemon dressing." She replied, sipping her champagne.

Lydia gave a curt, understanding nod and asked politely, "Would you prefer yours like his, then. Medium rare?"

"No. God, no!" she cried, smiling a little. "I'd like mine rare. Thank you."

The waitress gave another nod and turned for the kitchen. Martin's eyes followed the woman's retreating figure; his gaze was still on her even as Genevieve cleared her throat to get his attention. Not that he heard – he was too absorbed with his thoughts.

The thin heel of Genevieve's stilettoes connected sharply with his shin with such force he doubled over with a muted groan and a lowly uttered expletive. He raised his head and pinned her a frigid glare, one she returned with a smile of her own.

"Good. That got your attention." She said sweetly. "You seemed to have been gone an awful long time, Martin. I was worried."

"Were you?" he asked with a sardonic raise of his brow, the pain she administered to his shin had faded to a dull, indistinct throb. "You can hardly blame me for admiring her. She appears to have qualities you greatly lack."

The sweet smile on Genevieve's pale pink lips vanished and her eyes narrowed at the insult, along with jealousy and irritated annoyance. "Really? What would those qualities be?"

Martin reclined heavily against his chair, a mild taunting smile brushed his lips, "For one thing, she's not a child in a woman's body throwing infantile tantrums highly irritating in nature."

Genevieve rose as gracefully as she could whilst pinning Martin an icy stare which he received with mild amusement. "She won't bat an eyelash your direction, Martin. All your efforts will be useless. That I can tell judging from her behaviour."