Agency

In Which Allegra Isn't Interested in Lunch

lunchtime

As he'd been instructed, Berry arrived at the Hare&Harp and asked for a table upstairs. The second floor was quieter than the first, but not altogether empty. Not a perfect place for a secret meeting. It was too close to their building not to risk being seen by coworkers. He wondered why Allegra had chosen it.

He scanned the laminated menu, which offered the typical nod to British pub fare and a heavy selection of American sports bar classics. They weren't here for the food, then.

The carpet smelled like old beer. The painted tabletop felt slightly sticky. He brushed stray sugar crystals from its surface. He wondered if the bathrooms were as underkept... and wished he could visit them now, having just felt his stomach turn over and liquify unpleasantly with nervousness.

Berry slipped off his coat and straightened his shirt collar, making sure it wasn't sticking up out of his sweater. He placed his expensive sunglasses next to the roll of cutlery at his place and set his jaw.

You made the decision, he chided himself. Don't wimp out now.

After several minutes of waiting, most of them spent worrying that his armpits were growing damp and debating whether it would be better to take his sweater off or leave it on, Allegra ascended the stairs and crossed the floor to their table.

"Bertrand. Hello." She smiled demurely and slipped into the seat across from him.

"You can call me Berry if you like. Everybody does," he offered.

"No, thank you. I prefer proper names," she replied.

Right, he thought, confused. He said nothing.

Allegra took control of the conversation. "Listen, Bertrand. I'm glad you said yes to lunch. I don't want you to feel at all strangely about what happened between us the other night. I don't." She nodded at him encouragingly.

"I... also don't?" he ventured.

"Excellent. We've established that neither party feels strangely about it. Which means, I think, we might conclude that both parties feel, at least possibly, optimistically open to exploring opportunities to... revisit the dynamic?"

Her eyes glinted alluringly, but Berry wasn't at all sure what was happening. Did she mean she wanted to kiss him again? If so, he was okay with that. Or, was working his way toward being okay with it. But why did she have to make such a verbal maze out of everything?

"I think so," he said and tried to smile.

"What else?" Allegra asked, leaning forward as if eager to hear his answer.

"What else?"

"What else do you want to share with me?" She pressed his knee with her own under the table.

He blinked. What did she mean, what else? Suddenly, he remembered how much he hated dating. He always felt ten steps behind. As he recalled, an unexpected compliment could sometimes successfully redirect a conversation that was slipping away from him. He decided to try that.

"You have really nice hair," he tried. No, that wasn't quite the note he wanted to hit. What else? "And great boobs. Breasts, I mean."

At that very moment, just in time to hear the harmless-looking man tell the very bossy looking lady that she has great boobs (men, honestly!), a server arrived at the table. Her ponytail bounced eagerly.

"Hi guys, I'm Kimmy! I'll be your server today. Can I tell you about our specials or maybe you'd like to start with a drink?"

Berry flushed with embarrassment. Christ. Boobs. But Allegra was smiling widely at him now, and her hand had crept up his thigh.

"Kimberly," she said, not lifting her eyes from Berry's. "Would you fetch us a gin & tonic and...?" She waited for Berry.

"Oh. A beer is fine."

"A gin & tonic and a beer, please, Kimberly. I don't think we'll have time to eat this afternoon."

"Okey-doke!" Kimmy bounced off downstairs to the bar.

Allegra bit her lip and glanced to the back of the room where the washrooms were.

"Bertrand? I'm wearing very sexy pants."

Reflexively, he looked at her legs. She was wearing a skirt.

"You're not wearing pants," he said.

She laughed coquettishly and touched her very soft looking neck.

"Not pants-pants. I mean underpants. Is that what you call them here?"

"We call them panties," he blurted, then flushed harder. He couldn't remember ever having uttered that word aloud before today. It was just abjectly filthy sounding.

"Okay then," she said. "I'm wearing very sexy panties. And I'm wondering if you'd like to see them?"

Berry nodded mutely. No woman had ever spoken to him quite this forwardly.

She stood up, leaving her coat on the back of her chair and motioned for him to come with her. She headed toward the washrooms.

This was it, he thought mutely. He had already crossed the line, but crossing it again would really cement things.

She looked back to see if he was coming.

Not wanting to disappoint, he slid out from behind the table and followed her into the single, unisex washroom. It was as dingy as he'd imagined it might be.

The moment he'd locked the door behind him, she moved toward him. She took his hands and brought them to her thighs, sliding them up under her skirt until they came in contact with what did, it was true, feel like very fancy pants.

As she kissed his neck, he took the opportunity to clarify something that'd been on his mind: "Is it okay for us to pay Niall's team out for their pitch work on Atrabax before the account is funded?"

She stopped what she was doing, pursed her lips and said, "Yes. Now focus on my pants, please, Bertrand."

So he did.