Tales of The Pier: How to enjoy the most blissful time with your girlfriend by doing nothing — Part 1 [frequency #4]
You don’t have to go to the Ivory Coast to impress your girlfriend. In fact, she may not need being impressed at all.
Russ-Barb and Bruce Wil-less.
Forty days to the end of summer, I was doing my daily chores at the Pier restaurant, that is running around to set up the tables, sweeping the floor, cutting the bread and so on. From the moment I place the tip of my finger on the sensor and the machine replies with an un-sexy “thank you” by a digitalized female voice, I never stop for ten hours in a row. That is part of the game.
I did stop when I ran into a couple of blue-iced eyes, set in a tanned, squared and smooth face, framed with golden and flowing blonde hair.
“Hi, do you have a table for two?”
The Russian accent was soft but evident. The beauty of the creature was more the latter than the former.
“Yes, we have.” I replied.
At that time of the day, even at the end of August, there was plenty of seats to choose from, so a client willing to have a late lunch could sit wherever he wanted to. The bookings for tables were all set from 7 pm on.
“Where would you like to sit?” I asked.
The answer of the Russian woman was immediate.
“By the sea, please.” she pleaded with a hoping smile.
“Okay. Follow me.” I said.
I’ve had indications by my boss about where to position afternoon clients, so the Russian couple ended on table number 66, which was the first in the area near the sea and it had a good view and a fine exposure to wind. The weather was still hot and very wet.
The Russian girl looked like a real-size Barbie doll and was accompanied by a rough, bald and quite awkward version of Ken. He looked more like Bruce Willis if he hadn’t all his vanity due to make-up artists and wellness professionals. A more down-to-earth version of Bruce Willis, with less magnetism; some kind of a Bruce Wil-less.
The two sat down and I brought them two menus.
“Could you please bring us two beers?” the Barbie asked.
Her lips were pouting, but it was a merry pouting. I liked that kind of lips; meaty, pink and smooth. That is, I don’t know if her lips were smooth, since I never touched them, but by looking at them, you could have imagined how sweet and indulging a kiss would be on that mouth.
She was the one who talked, because she knew my language. She spoke a quite fluent Italian for being a Russian. Bruce Wil-less, on the contrary, could chew some English but never really intervened. When I returned with the beers and put them on the table, he just uhmmed something and that was all.
“Thank you.” said the Barbie soothingly.
She was a short, provoking ensemble of hotness. But she had a bright and very present look.
They had arrived at 2:30 pm, while lunch clients were starting to get up and aim for the exit. In the next hour and a half, I set up tables indoors, cleaned other tables and separated dirty linen and put them into bags to pile up in the storage area. I brought the couple their dishes; they had chosen fish.
While moving across and throughout the restaurant, I kept an eye on them and saw they were slouching on the chairs. Those were big, plastic and strong chairs, they bore heavy weight and this allowed to take whatever position. The Russian Barbie, or Russ-Barb, was sitting sideways, with her back almost on the armrest and her legs resting on her boyfriend’s legs. She was talking to him and he was listening, silent, his eyes two black slits and his lips freezed in a constant smile. Or maybe he stayed like that because of the strong sunlight, even if there was a large, white umbrella shielding them from direct sunbeams. He eventually grunted or uhmmed something at the girl’s speech. Eventually he would say something, but I couldn’t get nothing out of their conversation, because I don’t speak Russian.
Slowly, they were the only ones left in the restaurant, while my colleagues and I finished our chores. Bruce Wil-less got up to go to the bathroom and Russ-Barb beckoned me. I walked up to her table and she looked up at me, smiling.
“What do you have for dessert?” she asked.
I explained the list to her, then she would ask for a mascarpone with nut cream.
“How’s that done?” she asked.
“We put a layer of chocolate biscuits, spread it with some nut cream, put mascarpone on top and spread more cream on it. Then we sprinkle some actual ground nuts on top, along with broken biscuits.”
Her eyes grew with interest and her smile got cunning.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“I adore it.”
She bit her lower lip. It was a soft, almost casual gesture.
“Two, please.” she said.
So I made those myself and went back to their table. By the time I reached it, Bruce Wil-less was there and when I served the desserts, he grunted to me again. I guess that was a “thank you”. At least, I took it as such.
They kept chatting in low voice, eventually kissing for a long time, then took little spoonfuls of mascarpone and chatted again.
Little by little, as time passed, I realized the only audible sound was that of the waves. The sea had grown calm and still. Dampness had softened and the air was clean. Still it was damn hot, but that felt good too.
I looked at the two and I sensed as if time had been somehow stretched around them, like Russ-Barb and Bruce Wil-less were influencing the course of it by their mere presence. Their calm and stillness were sending cozy vibrations all over the place and even our boss was sitting still, managing with admin situations on his laptop and did not show signs of anxiety and irritation, which he fully expressed every single day.
Then the guys of the afternoon shift came and I went away, bidding the couple goodbye and wishing them a nice stay. Russ-Barb smiled lovely at me and Bruce Wil-less hinted at me with his head, uhmming. I translated it as a goodbye.
This frequency is to be continued next week… Stay tuned!
This is part 1 of a two-part story. If you liked it, please comment on it below; I’d really love to know what you think about it and start a conversation.
Thanks for reading and have a great day!
Originally published at alessandrotinchini.wordpress.com on September 14, 2017.