Silver Buttons

The Date

 Jessi slid into one of the dresses that she made for herself, a deep, dark wine red chiffon dress that fell just below her knees. She placed her hair up in a cute bun, keeping it together with a large jaw clip, wearing nothing more than her dress, a little bit of mascara, a pair of scant lace black underwear and her favorite pair of black stilettos.

She climbed into her little 2012 Chevy Malibu and headed down to the restaurant. Papa's Place was a wonderful little eatery. Think of it like Olive Garden, but authentic and fancier, the price was better as well as the food. Terry arrived just behind of Jessi, parking next to each other, they climbed out of their cars, mouths agape as they laid eyes on the other. Terry, handsome as ever in a black suit with a dark blue under shirt, his nostrils flared at the sight of Jessi's beauty.

Jessi loved how Terry left his hair down, the curls framing his face, the locks looking so soft and dare she think, something fun to tug on. 'Shit. He's hot in anything,' her mind began to scream.

He offered his arm, she gladly took it as they walked in. 'Fuck. She feels so good, always smells good, she's so sweet, I need to make her mine,' Terry's invasive thoughts stampeded his mind like wild buffalo shaking the ground.

They sat across from one another, Terry smiled, "You look breathtaking, Jessi, tell me, did you make that dress?"

She blushed deeply, "Thank you, Terry. I did, actually."

Terry was amazed at her craft, all of her designs and clothes rivalled many popular designers who had models walking runways with their garments, at least, that's what he thought.

"Tell me, you knew Franco? I assume he fitted all your suits?" Jessi said as she sipped her water.

Terry nodded, "Oh yes, he did a lot of alterations for me, he told me the last time we spoke that some sweet little thing was going to take over his business."

"Little ol me," she giggled, "When I started working for him I used to just sew buttons on shirts or hemmed pants, pushed a broom. But, I had an eye for measuring, I know my color palettes, and knew how to operate a sewing machine, let alone a needle and thread, it took a lot of convincing for him to let me take a clients order. Franco designed and made a three piece suit for a customer, and I made one, the customer was happy with both of them but bought mine."

"That's amazing. Knowing Franco, it must have left a very sour taste in his mouth," Terry chuckled, "That's great. I'm glad you took it over, I always see new products in the window, people seem to leave happy. But... I never see you leave," he studied her, "Do you live there?" He joked.

Jessi smiled, coyly, "As a matter of fact, a few years back I renovated the upstairs area into living quarters. So yes, I live there," she chuckled.

Terry's eyes widened, surprised, "Really? Each time I stopped by the dojo to see the progress I always saw your little car parked in the same spot, as though it never moves, now I know why."

"Well, I've come a long way since I was still green, I started working for Franco when I was around 19, living in my car at the time, Franco and his wife opened their home to me, letting me live there rent free as I worked at the shop. He was truly a blessing in disguise, giving me raise after raise as he saw my work flourish. His wife and family that came over to visit one summer from Italy taught me how to be a better cook too, I'm chalk full of surprises," Jessi grinned, watching Terry listen intently to her every word.

"I had no idea. I stopped by often enough, I never saw you, must have been in the back working diligently away... Think I could ever convince you to join an adult class at my dojo? I'm getting ready to start them up soon," he tilted his head, studying her, catching her off guard with his question.