Silent Connection

TUESDAY:

This was not the normal place that Simon would find himself meeting a client for lunch, but he had to admit that the homespun charm and the waiting staff's need to make your stay here as pleasant as possible was very refreshing. To be honest he didn't know that places like this still existed. The Club, for its real name had long been forgotten, had a team of waiters that would sneer at any attempt of suggesting that you knew better than them when it came to the wine selection, and anything other than the Chef's special was deemed as pig swill in comparison. Here though the attitude was one of 'We aim to please.' There was a little light country music playing in the background. The stock standard variety that would inevitably involve prisons, mothers, trucks, farms and trains. There would be the hint of a death somewhere in the lyrics, a dog maybe, and would end up with some moral undertone to its core. The wall had art by local enthusiasts who, whilst not totally without talent should be advised not to give up their day job. Where there was not art, there were plants that had spent their lives creeping up the wall and latching onto any surface that would further help in their cause when attempting to take over the room. Their leaves suggested that they were taken care of by someone who knew what they were talking about when it came to the care of houseplants, and their arrogance was such that they seemed to disregard all other non-plant life in their dominance of the surrounding area. Simon's mind became unfocussed by the melancholy atmosphere that this small, but charming reassurance exuded as he let his eyes settle, unfixed as they followed the waitresses around from one table to another. Some would take fresh orders whilst others would refill coffee cups and would engage their new friends with the occasional comment on the weather, family and general topics of the day. It was all very pleasant, to the point that Simon forgot about the tardiness of his client. His eyes settled on one particular waitress. A large Jamaican woman whose accent lilted across the room, giving her origins away with its soft pleasing tone. The uniform she wore had seen better days and had passed, along with her, through the years with changes to its shape and ability to do its job well. Her name badge told the world that she was called Ruby and she would be happy to serve you. Ruby, undoubtedly had started her career with a little less girth than she now carried, for the buttons around her bosom strained to keep her modesty in check. Through the gaps Simon could see that Ruby sported a red lace bra and he smiled inwardly to himself at some hidden sauciness that lay beneath this image of professional attentiveness, and to service of another nature. From somewhere deep within what Simon liked to call a soul, he chastised himself for his perverse voyeurism, but this soon was overruled by the latent schoolboy that hides within so many of his fellow men.

Apart from Ruby's underwear, Simon had noticed the lady that she was now serving.

Ruby stopped at her table and placed the coffee pot down and she proceeded to exact a series of complicated hand movements to her customer. The lady then smiled and reciprocated with hand gestures of her own. This went on for a minute or so before Ruby laughed out loud at some secret joke they shared between them before refilling the lady's cup once more. After placing the flat of her hand against her customer's face, Ruby moved on around the room offering refills to the rest of her guests before stopping at Simon's table.

"A new face." She said with a beaming smile. "Welcome sir. My name is Ruby. Would you like some more coffee? Or something to eat perhaps."

Ruby leaned in closer and bent at the hip affording Simon of an unwanted view of her ample cleavage. She lowered her voice conspirituality. "I would recommend the apple and peach pie my love." She said. "I made it myself." She straightened herself and added. "My husband used to swear by it – Before he died of course."

She laughed at the shocked look that came over Simon's face.

"Don't worry my friend." She said out loud. "He died by his own hand."