Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Service: * * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * 1/2
There's a pile of scripts on the front seat of my car. They HAVE to be gotten through by around noon tomorrow. Which means my morning is going to be frenetic and laborious and tedious.
I was going to go through them tonight, in a coffee shop, in a manner both leisurely and languid, and fitting for the artistic temperament.
But hey. Better things happen in life. Which is why they eight chemistry scripts are still on my passenger seat itching to be stroked by my red corrections pen. And that's where they'll stay till tomorrow morning.
Because right now I'm in the Park Hyatt Hotel coffee shop drinking tea with a curvy blonde émigré from Cape Town. She's ordered a glass of dry white wine.
Beauty, our waitress, arrives and produces a glass the size of Dolly Parton's old bra. It's big enough to hold at least three-quarters of a bottle of wine. Wow. Daunting.
But Mariaan is up to it. Must be her Cape genes.
I've just seen a movie... THE SHAPE OF THINGS, written and directed by Neil LaBute. And it's a beaut. 8 out of 10 on the Roy-o-Meter. Bitter, cynical, arty, self-conscious, witty-witty-witty.
But before the movie, I had to buy a ticket. And while I was standing in the queue, I heard some people wondering whether or not to see INTERMISSION. So I but in and say, "See it! It's an Irish cross between LOCK, STOCK & FOUR SMOKING BARRELS and TRAINSPOTTING. It's a thriller, a comedy, and a love story all rolled into one."
A blonde babe with pneumatic breasts and deliciously curved hips says, "And can you recommend COLD MOUNTAIN?"
"I haven't seen it," I say, "but I've heard it's quite a downer."
Somebody else pipes up, "But Jude Law's in it. And Nicole Kidman. It's brilliant. Brillllllliant!"
And so movies were watched.
When I came out of mine, there was a message from Eran. So I give him a call and walk around Rosebank while I'm chatting to him. I finish the conversation outside the Kitsch & Cool shop near the Park Hyatt, and there's the pneumatic blonde finishing a call of her own.
"Excuse me," she says, "how was THE SHAPE OF THINGS?"
I'm looking at the shape of her things, and I'm thinking how I'd love to take her back to my place, get her nude, and draw her. I say, "Ah, it was great fun. Very dark. But lovely. What did you end up choosing?"
"COLD MOUNTAIN. And it was VERY much a downer. At the end, I just sat there in the cinema. I couldn't move." She has big, bold, delicious-looking lips, and they're moving.
"Lets go to the Park Hyatt and have coffee and pretend to be rich foreigners," I say.
Which is how we get to be sitting on one of the couches.
Some things I certainly know about myself. I'm extremely probing, very easy to talk to, and pretty direct.
Soon we're talking about Mariaan's dreams. Her biggest passion in life is travelling, seeing the world, experiencing other people's cultures. She's got some plans that she's letting germinate. And one of these fine days she's going to be making a living doing what she loves.
"So imagine we're somewhere exotic," I say. "Where are we?"
"Brazil!!!" she says.
"Okay. We're in Brazil. Who am I?"
"Ooooooooo," she says, flapping her hand. Her eyes start to shine, and she smiles. He jacket collar is framing her right breast absolutely perfectly. "You're... you're a Brazilian hunk that I've met, and we're having a drink. It's Carnival. It's definitely Brazil during Carnival."
"Hmmm," I say. "So I'm this Brazilian hunk. And what are we doing after we have our drinks?"
Her eyes narrow slightly, and she peers at me. Am I detecting a twinge of lust? Or am I projecting my own desires onto the situation?
She's 35. She was married for ten years, and broke up with her hubbie one year and three months ago. She hasn't had awfully many sexual experiences with anyone since the divorce, but she's not closed to the idea of meeting a good man.
She takes a long sip of wine from the goblet.
"Hmmm," I say, "so I'm this Brazilian god, and you're this beautiful blonde, and we're having a drink during Carnival. I think maybe we go down to the beach and make love?"
She nods slowly.
"Do you mind if I draw you?" I say.
She flinches, crosses her arms, blushes madly. "No, you can't!" she says.
"Are you sure?" I say. "You don't look certain."
"No, it's okay," she says. "You can draw me. It's just that nobody's ever asked me that question!"
I open my leather satchel and extract my sketchbook, my ink bottle, and my gynaecological exploration device, the Maped Ruling Pen.
"Right here?" she says.
"You don't have to sit still," I say.
Three French-speaking black businesspeople in suits have been sitting on the sofa opposite us for the last hour, and they've said about eight words to each other all night.
Mariaan says, "Wow. They're VERY interested in what you're doing."
I say, "They're maybe wondering if I'm some sort of famous artist trying to get you into bed with me."
After a few sketches, I show her the results. I can't tell whether or not she likes them.
"There are two things I want," I say to her, after much deliberation and churning of the gut. This will be the first time I've said either of these things in a first meeting. I say, "One... I want you to pose naked for me."
"Oooo!" she says. "Not immediately!"
"Two," I say, "I want to make love with you."
"I think the ladies love you, Roy. Do the ladies love you? You have such a way. You've worked your way into my heart. Wow. I've never been asked such things before."
"I haven't asked such things before," I say. "Not on a first meeting."
She thinks about it.
She says, "Right now I'm coming down with flu, so, no, not tonight. But another time maybe. As for posing, I'll think about it. Maybe."
She has my Coffee-Shop Schmuck business card. Maybe she'll use it. Maybe she won't.
I say, "Please don't feel pressure from either of my requests. I just want you to know what I want. If I don't say it, you can't know it."
"You've worked your way into my heart," she says.
"That was quick," I say.
"You know it, Roy. You've got a way with the ladies."