So, coked off our eyeballs, @posh_bombshell and I burst into Tom's Kitchen like a pair of wannabe celebrities in search of a liquid lunch. It was not long after noon, but the restaurant was already filling up.
"Do you have a booking? We are quite busy today, but I'm sure we can squeeze the two of you in."
"We're just going to go to the bar, darling".
We breezed past, sunglasses still on, and perched ourselves on barstools.
"A Pimms, a gin & tonic and a bottle of Pinot Grigio, please darling" commanded @posh_bombshell to our very handsome waiter.
"Here, take this" she whispered to me, removing the sachet from that Prada clutch, and pressing it into my sweaty palm.
"Loos are that way" she gestured.
So off I popped.
I returned to our ambitious drinks order, sniffing conspicuously, attracting the attention of several waitstaff, as well as that of at least one patron.
As soon as I'd seated myself, @posh_bombshell was off too, snatching back that sachet, and heading loo-way.
She too returned sniffing conspicuously, also attracting some sideways glances.
Although as the effects of the coke kicked in, and mixed with the booze, we became oblivious.
To the staff.
To the patrons.
To everything...
Was it three hours later?
Or three minutes?
The cocktails were long gone.
We were almost done with our second bottle of wine.
And the coke was almost finished.
With sunglasses still on, we were thinking we were fabulous.
Quite sure that everybody in the restaurant wanted to be with us.
Be just like us.
Be us.
And then I saw him.
The man himself.
The Tom of Tom's Kitchen.
Incredibly handsome.
Ginger.
I have only recently become a ginger fan.
And I see that they are quite fashionable.
And as you know, I'm always on trend.
I do wonder where it started.
Perhaps with Prince Harry?
Hmmm, maybe, although he's a little young for me.
But Tom.
Now Tom was right up my demographic.
And he can cook.
And he was right there.
Looking me in the eye.
Even though I still had my sunglasses on.
And I felt sure we had a connection.
So I smiled.
And sniffed.
He shook his head, and looked away.
Must be shy.
Or busy.
Too professional to fraternise with patrons.
I like that in a man.
We definitely had a connection.
We polished off the bottle of wine.
And ordered a third.
Hopping off her barstool @posh_bombshell headed to the loo, sachet in hand.
And then he approached me.
Tom.
Taking the bottle from the barman as he did.
He walked over slowly.
Smiling slightly.
He leaned over the bar towards me.
"Oh my God, he's gonna kiss me" I said to myself.
I leaned in.
Eyes closed under my sunnies.
Lips parted in readiness.
He grabbed me by my shirt collar.
(I love a man who takes charge.)
And whispered in my ear:
"If you and that slapper don't stop doing coke in my fuckin' bathroom and get the fuck outta my restaurant, I'm callin' the cops! Got it??"
I started backwards in shock, knocking a tray of drinks from the arms of a passing waiter.
I fumbled in my wallet to settle the bill, and he waved me off, like a king dismissing an irritating jester.
@posh_bombshell returned with a loud "Darling?", which was met with a finger pointed towards the door and a very terse: "OUT! NOW!"
I steered her quickly towards the door, and turned back, pressing my card against the bar, and lowering my sunnies to wink at him, and said:
"Call me, maybe."
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