Lunch and Cigarettes

I had to lunch with A, S and K at the Brighton Sea Baths. I'm not even going to mention the fact that I didn't read the message correctly and headed to St Kilda sea baths. Esplanade, sea baths, it’s not so hard to understand. No, I'm not going to tell you that.

"Meet us outside the cafe." My there seems to be a number of cafes here. Check the massage. AH!

And I had caught a tram. For a moment my head spun at my stupidity. I called Mark to tell him what an idiot I’d been, in the spirit of there-must-be-somebody-to-tell. Confess. Why do I always have this need to confess? Is it a human characteristic?
After I got over my surprise, shock, I hopped in a taxi and was there in ten minutes.
They weren't even there. They called and said they were running late.

We had a seafood platter for four, a selection of deserts, coffee and a walk on the pier.
A looked fantastic. He looked slim and hot.
S looked fat. With the alcohol she drank during the afternoon, there were no surprises how she'd porked up.
C had badly stained teeth. Why wouldn't you get those cleaned?
I smoked A’s cigarettes.
We had a nice time, it was great to catch up.

I'll text you when I'm leaving, so you can leave too, was Sam and my agreement, afterward lunch. I hadn’t driven and as the traffic was a nightmare on my way back, I was pleased I hadn’t. There were cars banked up Spencer and Flinders and all I could see was a sea of tail lights as my tram slipped by them all. I thanked the universe for trams.
I got to Southern Cross Station first.
The problem was that I'd been smoking all afternoon. I was practising him as I waited.

Have you been smoking?
Have you been smoking?
Have you been smoking?
Have you been smoking?

I was trying to get his particular intonation right, as I waited. That cross, being surprised and exasperated all at the same time that he gets, no matter how many times he has to utter those words.
And then he was coming down the stairs, looking just as handsome as ever and my heart did a little jump and my face creased into a smile.

I fessed up, of course. Sam wasn’t so pleased. He pinched my arm and said, Who said you could smoke again?

We caught the City Circle from the corner of Spencer and La Trobe. It was too packed, with stinky tourists and we decided since we were locals we shouldn’t be on it anyway, so we got on the 96 behind. Sam was still scolding me about smoking. He was pinching my arm.
We were standing by the doors, as Sam crouched over the perspex wall to look out the back of the tram to try to ascertain if the tram behind was an 86, when I poked him in retaliation for the pinch. We were being silly, what can I say. I think it is a form of foreplay. He retorted with, “I’m going to slap you hard in a minute,” as it looked as though he was staring straight at the woman in the first seat facing him. She was a little taken aback, her eyes widened, the look on her face was priceless. Sam realised and apologised. He was a little embarrassed. I laughed.

He told me it was my fault. More foreplay.

Me, Sam, Sebastian, Shane, D, Mark W were all having dinner at my place. Sebastian served soup, Mark W fish, D potatoes and bean salad, and I made apple and rhubarb crumble.
Lovely.