The Size Of His Nose

IT 1S NOT THE SIZE OF HIS NOSE...First Date Gone Awry by Vern Clinton Cindy held the neck of the silk negligee to her throat, pressed the waist to her belly and whirled delightedly in front of her bedroom mirror. It was irresistible, she thought. Well, she hoped it would be irresistible It should be since it would have the help of Aire de Fromage, on her freshly showered and conditioned skin, the influence of Moutin Rothschild '76 chilling in the refrigerator, and the culinary delight of Viand du Chevaux Cordon Bleu that she had spent the entire afternoon preparing just for him. She lay the negligee over the foot of the bed and sat at the bureau to work just a bit more on her eyes. The hairdresser had taken care of the hardest part of her preparations that morning. With the tips of her fingers and a toss of her head she flipped her long blond hair back from her bare shoulders. She repeated the gesture twice more practicing her mouee at the same time. It had seemed a dream when he asked her out. He had only come to the hospital two days ago as a resident. He seemed such a sensitive man, quiet with an air of refinement so seldom seen around the hospital. All the other women on the staff, and a couple of the men for that matter, were dazzled by him. Six foot two, auburn hair, blue eyes, and built like a fugitive from an Arrow shirt commercial. He was a resident in pediatrics. He hadn't seemed to notice anyone— except in a professional way, of course. He had that Med School pallor, and an intense way about him that had made him seem so vulnerable. Roger had been shy when he asked her to have dinner with him, so unlike every other young doctor fresh from med school —pun intended—that she had met. On impulse she had said: "Since you're scheduled to be back at the hospital at midnight I'll cook for you. Come to my place at seven." He'd be here soon. She wriggled into the lace encrusted confection of a dress for which she'd exchanged a week's pay. Her mirror told her "Cindy, it was worth every penny. You're gorgeous. This is one lucky doctor." And it's going to he one magnifiguee evening. The doorbell rang. Cindy took a final look in the hall mirror and went to the door. Behind her the apartment glowed, a masterpiece of subtle seduction. A Debussy melody beckoned the cochlea, and Aire de Fromage and the aroma of Viand competed for olfactory attention. On the dining table an antique lace tablecloth framed a setting for two of Celadon china, Limoge crystal, and Verte et Grise flatware. A bouquet of snapdragons and petits stilos held centerstage. The Champagne crouched by the table in a silver bucket of ice ready to do its part, and next to the candles on the sideboard a freshly opened bottle of Chate au Nates de Pape breathed heavily. In the refrigerator a Mousse au Chocolat avec des Haricots smugly awaited its cue as piece de resistance. Cindy opened the door. Roger smiled down at her with an expression of shy benevolence. "Boy, am I hungry" he said. He sounded so boyish that Cindy's heart skipped a beat. She ushered him in with a theatrical spin. Her arm swung in an arc encompassing all her meticulous arrangements. "Welcome chez moi. Do you like Debussy?" She asked. "Well.. Of course I like pussy, but I'm hungry enough to eat a horse, first" he said sniffing the air. Cindy smiled at his humor. Yes, a sensitive, witty man. He'd be a sensitive lover too—she was sure. She asked him to pour the champagne, fetching the chilled stemware from the fridge. He poured with gusto and drank energetically. A man with a strong appetite for everything, she thought. The evening would be all too short so perhaps it was best not to linger too long over the preliminaries.

She seated him at the table and lit the candles. She dimmed the lights and changed the tape on the stereo to a French chanson performed by the Polish Ensemble de Trois Chats. Cindy brought the steaming platter of Cheveau from the kitchen and placed it in the center of the table: then the bowl of Salade Verte, and the Pomme de Terre Mashte. She poured the Chat au Nates de Pape and stood back for a moment to watch him and savor his delight in her creation. He looked the table over and then looked up at her. "Why don't you sit down so we can start. This looks great." he said and reached for the Viand. Soon his plate was mounded with meat, potatoes, peas, and salad. She watched astonished as he mixed it all together using his fork and spoon with the air of a plasterer preparing a batch of stucco. He took a bite of the melange. "Man, that's good, Cindy. You ought, to cook for me more often." he said talking around a mouthful of whatever the food had become. He downed his glass of wine. "This glass is sure little," he said, "ought to have a real big glass for good wine like this." Cindy passed the meal in shock. The Chevaux and the Chat au Nates de Pape quickly disappeared down his gullet. When he paused to belch and look around for more food she went to the kitchen and took the Mousse from the refrigerator. She put it on a sacrificial platter with a soup spoon beside it and set it before her refined, sensitive, apollonian, prospective lover. The Mousse was summarily committed to alimentary obscurity. "Wow,that was really something!" Roger belched patting his stomach. If you're as good in the sack as you are in the kitchen. I'm really lucky." He smiled to show that he was really just being funny. Cindy's reflexive answering smile was a bit wan. "Where is the bedroom in this place anyway?" he asked looking around. "Why don't you show me?" "I think I've got the flu, Roger. I'm going to be very sick. Thank you for coming. Goodbye." She ushered Roger out of the apartment as if she were stuffing salad scraps down the garbage disposal. With the door shut she looked around at the devastation his stay had brought. She took a deep breath and turned her back on the dining room and kitchen with its burden of dinner debris. She kicked off her shoes and slipped her dress over her head. She turned off the stereo and flopped on the couch. She put her feet up on the coffee table and with the remote flipped on the TV. At least he left before Jeopardy came on, she thought.