A pretty, buxom young waitress named Annabelle showed Aaron, Annette and Ivan to an empty table in a secluded booth of Tuscany Cove, an upscale Italian restaurant.
"May I take your order?" she asked brightly with a notepad and pen ready.
Aaron fixed his calculating gaze on her - delicate face, large brown eyes, porcelain skin, soft brown hair in a ponytail, and the way her crisp white blouse and black slacks that made up her uniform accentuated her feminine curves.
Annabelle felt herself blushing under his scrutiny. Aaron's gaze seemed analytical, yet surface level.
It wasn't like the furtive stares from awkward boys or the undressing leers from older men.
"A question if I may Ms. Annabelle, are those shoes standard issue? I don't think I've seen the other waitresses wear them," asked Aaron.
Annabelle blinked in surprise, then blushed further and giggled at Aaron's observation that she was wearing black leather pumps with chunky six-centimeter heels.
