�How do you feel about Italian food?�

�I love it. We�re talking about real Italian food, not some fake California-vegetarian Italianesque crap, right?� Diane didn�t mean for it to sound so rude when she said that, and regretted it as soon as it flew from her mouth.

�Thank you for indulging my unique appetite the other night. And yes, we�re talking real Italian,� Bob laughed. Thank God he had a sense of humor. Diane liked that in a man. They drove back to the 15th, and Diane dropped off the car. Bob took over the driving duties, escorting Diane the rest of the way to the restaurant in his Lexus.

Diane and Bob spent a relaxed, quiet evening in a little Italian restaurant he knew over on 7th. When Diane turned down the offer of wine, Bob raised his eyebrows but didn�t ask any questions. Instead, he ordered two Pellegrinos with great flair, not missing a beat. Diane enjoyed her pasta with tomato and basil at length, savoring the conversation with Bob, who put a good-sized dent in his veal scallopini. They shared some prosciutto and polenta, slowly enjoying the rich flavors. They talked about Bobby, about Bob�s past marriages (there were two), plans for the future, even politics and religion. Bob held Diane�s hand, massaged her fingers, and touched her knee. Diane couldn�t remember any moment during the evening when he was not touching her.

Bob�s baritone voice was hypnotic to Diane. Everything about him made her feel safe, appreciated, even loved. His laughter was intoxicating, and Diane found herself wanting to be wittier, just so she could hear it again. His touch was soft, sensitive, and gentle. It was hard for her to pull herself away from him, but at one point during the evening, she had to visit the ladies� room. A woman can only drink so much Pellegrino before her body demands such attention. Besides, she was starting to feel slightly claustrophobic because she wasn�t accustomed to so much contact.

When she returned to the table, Bob held her hand and studied her face. She looked refreshed, like she had washed her face when she was gone. Bob smiled warmly at her, and she smiled warmly right back. They were a very happy couple, well fed, and ready to continue their relaxing evening elsewhere. Bob walked Diane the two blocks to her home from the restaurant.

�Would you like to come up for some coffee?�

�Are you sure that would be all right?� Bob said, rubbing her elbow gently.

�Yes, for a little while,� Diane said, �and I was being serious about the coffee.�

�Understood,� Bob bowed his head respectfully, and winked.

In the elevator, Diane felt like a teenager again. They held hands, then locked arms, then, when they had the elevator to themselves, they stole forbidden hugs and kisses. They pulled apart each time another nosy neighbor got onto the elevator.