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'My name's Peggy, and I'll be serving you this evening.' Peggy, John noticed, wore a frilly peasant skirt and a bodice that left her shoulders bare. Her breasts bulged over the top of the laced, corset-like garment, and it occurred to John that a deep breath might pop them right out of it. The hostess near the front door had sported a similar costume. He supposed Lynn's dress wasn't so bad, after all, with everyone running around in those outfits. But he still wished she hadn't given up her shawl to the cloak room girl. 'Would you care for something from the bar?' |
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'Do you think we ought to wait for the others?' he asked Lynn. |
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'Oh, let's just go ahead.' Smiling up at Peggy, she asked for a margarita. |
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'Would you prefer that with or without salt?' |
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'And I'll have a Mai Tai,' John told her. When the waitress was gone, he said, 'Maybe we'll be lucky, and they won't show up at all.' |
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'Now, don't be that way.' |
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'Are you sure we've got the right night?' |
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'I wrote it on my calendar. Seven o'clock, November eleventh, the Edgewood.' |
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'Maybe it was supposed to be at seven a.m.' |
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'I hardly think so. I'm sure they'll be along shortly.' |
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'Shortly, and wet,' he said. He hoped they didn't have umbrellas. It would serve them right. If they'd |
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