While having a very late lunch at an Italian restaurant during a day trip, two older women sat at the table next to my husband and me. One had her back to me, the other her side. Their table was tucked in the corner, above them was a television set mounted on the wall.
Waiting for our salads to arrive, I took a drink of my salted caramel espresso martini. Setting it down, I looked towards the TV and noticed that one of the women was now facing me.
“You look like you are really enjoying that,” she said. I immediately realized I had basically been making love to the tasty cocktail, licking some of the big chunks of salt off the rim.
“It is delicious,” was the only reply I could muster, feeling the warmth of a blush race up my neck into my cheeks.
Asking what was in my glass, I told her, and she explained that she only drinks her coffee black so my beverage did not appeal to her. We exchanged a few pleasantries, then she turned around, contining with her meal.
Big Brother is everywhere in the world we live in today. And sometimes, so is Perfect Stranger.
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