Erotica Gone Awry

The bistro bustled with activity and the scurry of servers and busboys who always managed to tend to Harold without seeing him. It was precisely 5:28, a full two minutes before he typically arrived at the restaurant after a quick visit to the newsstand up the street.

The maître d’ recognized Harold with an air of polite condescension before seating him at his usual table in the back near the kitchen. After signaling the waiter, then the busboy and then anyone who could have provided him with a glass of water Harold sighed and settled into his paper.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he heard a husky feminine voice.

It was an odd introduction as the bistro was empty when Harold had arrived.

“ErrrUmmm…” Harold stammered in a response that was somewhat less sophisticated than he’d intended.

“Mysty Lamar,” the woman interrupted before Harold had a chance to blabber more inanities, “the unconventional spelling with a ‘y,’” she continued, lustily, and then gave him a slow wink that reminded Harold of a garage door closing.

“I’m not expecting…who are you?” Harold said once he’d finally recovered a few of his wits.

“I’ve been watching you for some time,” Mysty said, “you frequent the newsstand up the street?”