An Assignation at Louders – Chapter Two
As she walked into the restaurant, the heavy smoked scent of slow-roasted beef, the aroma of sautéing mushrooms and onions in sweet butter and Port wine, as well as the burnt caramel smell of baking breads as the bun’s bottoms browned assaulted her senses. For a moment she was transported in to the mental paradise of her childhood where the soul-fulfilling fragrant goodness of her mother’s kitchen was omnipresent, as was the love and consideration of her mother. The pervasive aroma of the pure raw vanilla essence emanating from the Chef’s baking desserts being slowly cooked to crispy perfection in the restaurant’s ovens filled her nose with their heavenly scent, snapping her back to reality and purpose. The vanilla’s sweet bouquet evoked memories of the perfume of baby powder and disposable diapers, strengthening her resolve. Her husband would either keep his promise to give her a baby of her own or he would die. There would be no compromise this time. As she drew the restaurant’s inviting aromas deep into her lungs, she steeled herself to exhort her womanly due from her morally bankrupt spouse without his permission or willing acceptance. He had made a solemn promise to her upon their marriage and she would see that he would pay the price for breaking his vows.
She glanced around and saw that the ceiling of the restaurant had been arranged with massive, dark wood arches supporting a white, high-vaulted ceiling with a cathedral-like design. Each of the twained dining areas to the right and left of the Maitre-de’s stand had been broken up with free-standing foot-thick planters that served as area dividers to delineate each waiter’s responsibilities as well as to privatize each diner’s experience.
In the middle of the entryway, for the lunch crowd and quick eaters of the quiet time before the dinner rush, was the bar and it’s seating booths and wrapping around it on both sides were the dinner tables proper; there was one section was for smokers and the other section for non-smokers. At the early hour that Laura had chosen for their supper together, both sections were nearly empty, but nonetheless an obsequious Maitre-de stood guard at his post to defend the entrance to his domain like a supernatural creature who had been commanded to guard his owner’s demesne. No patron ever passed the giant, dark olive-skinned Maurice without his personal approval. At the evening hours the restaurant required reservations, but at this hour most would pass the tall, massive, black-garbed guardian’s inspection with a mere off-handed wave of his huge hand. Laura, however, had made reservations for an important meeting with her husband and so had made special arrangements with the Maitre-de to insure that there would be no argument about the seating arrangements or the dishes provided for their supper that afternoon.
Laura closed on the raven-haired Maitre-de, who she estimated stood at least six-foot, six-inches tall. She guessed that the mountain of muscle and bone (there was no discernable fat on his muscular torso) before her weighed at minimum three hundred pounds. She gave her name and identified herself as the person who had made a reservation for herself and her husband, making the servitor crack his Arabic stone-face in an unaccustomed smile. “Ahhhh, yes. Everything is in readiness for you. Your particular dietary requirements have been given to the Chef and he has accepted the challenge. Never before has he done what you have asked.”
He stopped for a moment and said in a desoto voice, “Madam does understand, that for ‘special recipes’ the establishment does add a somewhat large surcharge for the Chef’s efforts. In this case, the surcharge will be ‘quite’ expensive. Although Madam’s credit is good, the management has asked me to ensure that she is quite aware of all the costs of the dish that Madam has proposed that the Chef create. A special Chef’s fee of ten thousand dollars will be required in addition to whatever Madam orders for her meal. The management has required me to advise you that there may be legal….complications as well as…personal costs that you may not have considered.”
She looked up at the extremely tall and large black tuxedo-clad man with a red cummerbund and said with flinty yellow sparks of anger flashing in the irises of her hazel eyes, “I know exactly what I’m doing and have ordered. I have the wherewithal to pay for what I am asking. I have pre-prepared my household for the changes that will ensue from this meal. Is that enough for you, or must I speak to the manager? I made reservations with yourself in good faith and you agreed to the terms for the reasons I gave you! Money is not an object! Please show me to my table immediately!”
Maurice the Maitre-de bowed deeply in deference to her determination and preparations she had made before marking her name off on his very short list of expected diners for the afternoon. After taking a red leather-bound menu from the shelf inside the back of his podium-like station, Maurice led her to her seat as a mark of honor instead of delegating the menial task to the waiter who was assigned to the area as was the restaurant’s usual procedure.
Laura was pleased by the unctuous civility of the Maitre-de as he pulled back her chair for her and courteously seated her at her table. The staff had indeed prepared the table just for them. Her name was >
The Maitre-de smiled at the woman’s interest in the true meanings of the mundane. It was an interest that had consumed him since he was quite young and had first been introduced to the study of the obscure. Since his own origins were more than a little obscure to him, it was natural that he should feel so, but in the woman’s case, it indicated an active, questing mind. The job of a Maitre-de did not favor him with many contacts with such people. He savored the moments when he could. “White has many meanings in many cultures, Madam,” the Maitre-de explained without condescension as if he was discussing a learned subject with an attentive and devoted scholar, “In the West, it is generally taken to mean virtue or purity of purpose. Occultists and Western Pagans often associate it with the heraldic metal it represents, i.e., silver. Silver is representative of the Moon among both groups and the Mother Goddess of the second group. Astrologically speaking, the Moon represents both the home and the unconsciousness.”
“And which meaning does Louder’s Café espouse?”, Laura asked with a hint of amusement in her voice at trapping such an overeducated waiter.
“Why, to be sure, Madam, the restaurant wishes to foster the feelings of homeyness to ensure that every patron will have an unconscious desire to return! But is this not so of every restaurant? Symbols are only gateways to the meanings that each individual discovers in his environment. In short, they are signposts to the meaning of a person’s life. As such, the management has decided that it is wholly inappropriate for the employees of Louder’s to delineate the meaning of the restaurant’s symbolisms as they can only be properly interpreted by the patron’s themselves,” the Maitre-de said with the crushing logic of an ancient philosophy professor who’s tenure and arcane knowledge had made him undisputable.
The Maitre-de bowed and departed for a time to allow her to consider his words as well as the menu in peace.
Laura smiled to herself ruefully at the philosophical near-debate which the Maitre-de had won handily. “I need to remember not to underestimate people because of their jobs,” she admonished herself as she looked down at the menu before her. The edges of the covers had been guarded with a quarter-inch wide channel of varnished brass while filigreed brass protective corners had been mounted on the outside corners to keep the menu cover from becoming dog-eared. On the binding side of the covers on both front and back, there were ornamental triangles of brass that had been acid-etched through the metal with short praises and prayers to Allah in Arabic which matched the protective caps on the outside ears of the cover. When Laura opened her menu, she was pleased with the understated elegance of the Café; not only had the outside covers of the menu been professionally bound with fine-grained, heirloom quality, red Moroccan kidskin, but the menu itself had been hand-calligraphed with an intense midnight black India ink onto yellow-gold parchment paper. The calligraphic hand was a modernized medieval style that she had never seen before, but was easy to read and attractively artistic; the style lay somewhere between a modernized Chancery script and an Irish Unctual. It seemed to flow naturally across the page in straight lines without straining the reader’s ability to comprehend the odd lettering in an almost magickal way.
The End of An Assignation at Louders – Chapter Two.
The story originally came from: https://littleab.com/story.html
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index