Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [6]
He pressed his way over to the bar and put his hand on a stool just as a short, round woman wearing an orange print dress and holding a big white pocketbook on her arm was about to sit on it. He had begun to apologize when she spotted some friends and gave him the seat. Mouthing thanks, he squeezed through the narrow space and a thin, light-skinned man with freckles and a broad smile moved his stool to make more room for him. He lifted his shot glass in a neighborly fashion when Theophilus nodded a quick thank-you and settled his large, muscular frame on the shaky barstool.
He got more comfortable and started looking around the room, unintentionally making eye contact with two women who were dressed in identical lime green chiffon dresses. One of the women ran her tongue over the top of her lip and blew him a quick kiss when she was certain her man wasn't watching her. He nodded at her, taking great care not to get caught by her man. It was one of those no-win situations. If he ignored that red-bone woman with "good" hair, chances are she would get mad at him and say something about him to her man. If he were too friendly with her, then her man, a small, wiry fellow with a process and dressed in a red suit, would get insulted and probably be inclined to fight. And the one thing he knew about little wiry-built men was that they were easily insulted, mean, and carried a serious weapon.
Theophilus was relieved when the waitress finally came to take his order, making it possible for him to have a decent reason to stop the eye contact with that woman and her friend. But it took him aback when she walked up to him and right into the space between his legs as she rubbed his knee and whispered in his ear, "What you think you be wantin' tonight, baby?"
All he could do was smile at first. He was fully aware that he should know better than to respond to such outrageous flirtation. But the man in him, the part that loved getting attention from good-looking women, couldn't stand to let her get the best of him. He just had to give her back as good as he got. So Theophilus sat back on his stool and smiled, looking her up and down, admiring how good she looked with her sepia-colored skin in that skimpy black satin dress she was wearing. He stroked his chin and said, in a voice that sounded to her like midnight on a clear summer evening, "I don't need much, sweetheart. Just a tall glass of iced tea with a few sprigs of mint leaves and a rundown of what you have to eat. And make sure it is something succulent for a hungry man like me."
She grinned at Theophilus, moved closer to him and spoke into his ear, this time allowing her lips to brush the tip of his earlobe, sending a rush of warmth across his neck and shoulders.
"We has a rib tip sandwich special tonight. And baby, them ribs so good till they will make you want to do something real bad and nasty, if you know what I mean."
Theophilus gave her a sultry smile to let her know that he knew exactly what she meant. Then he winked at her and said, "So, tell me, sweetheart. What's on this sandwich that makes it so good it'll make me want to do something nassty?"
She felt a little quiver in her thighs and had to take a few deep breaths before she said, "Them tips is just good, baby. They soaked in hot, homemade barbecue sauce, with potato salad on top, and Wonder Bread."
He smiled at her again. "I'm gonna trust you and take one of those sandwiches. But, sweetheart, if the sauce is real hot, bring me some ice water along with my order. I think I'll need more than a glass of tea to cool me down with a sandwich like that."
She leaned on him