that... She climbed as elegantly as she could into his ute and he closed the door, then she watched amused as he walked around to the driver’s side shaking his head and waving his hand at God. He was a funny man and he made her smile rosily.
The restaurant was upmarket yet friendly and sat overhanging the beach. Michael requested a table outside and then he instinctively took Gemma’s hand and followed the maitre d’ as he escorted them to the balcony. The balcony hung about six foot above but directly over the sand and gave them full viewing access to the medium-sized waves tumbling in towards them about twenty-five metres away.
The maitre d’ held out a chair for Gemma, and she removed her small handbag and sat down, placing the bag on the floor beside her. Michael, of course found his own way to the seat opposite her and helped himself. Their host handed them a menu each and informed them, “Your waiter will be out to collect your order shortly... Can I get you something to drink?” Michael ordered them a glass each of sparkling house wine.
“Michael, this is a beautiful place...” Gemma offered as she looked about her. The chairs were dark wood and comfortable, the tables all dressed in long white cloths and each adorned with a long vase containing a single orchid and a beaker containing a flickering candle and protecting it from the ocean breeze which threatened to snuff it out... There was calming, un-intrusive classical music tuning in the background, and melding perfectly with the sound of the crashing waves. But of course, the most amazing feature of all was the proximity to the beach itself, bathing them in its delicious scent and freshness.
“Yes... I’ve always wanted to come...” Michael told her.
“Oh, you haven’t been here before?”
“No. I’ve seen it advertised and I’ve driven past it...” Michael said and then he smiled and pointed to the ocean, “I’ve even swum past it.” Gemma chuckled as she pictured him splashing in the surf. “But I’ve never been...”
“Well, now you have...” Gemma offered and they smiled.
The maitre d’ returned and placed a couple of flutes on the table and proceeded to pour each of them a glass. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked. Michael declined, and the man left.
Gemma lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. “Mmmm..!”
Michael too, sampled the swill, “Sweet and fruity!”
“Just like us!” Gemma declared with a grin, and Michael observed her surprising sassiness, his caterpillars once again wriggling across his brow.
“What? Wait, who is sweet and who is fruity?” Michael inquired and Gemma giggled.
“Well, I definitely think I’m sweet...”
“Which leaves me with fruity..? Cheeky...” he accused as he raised his glass, “Hmmm, to the sweet and the fruity!” Gemma giggled again as she raised her glass and Michael chinked his against it.
The waiter came and they placed their orders. Michael chose a Reef and Beef Platter, Gemma selected a dish of Creamy Garlic Prawns and for an entree they ordered a plate of Oysters Kilpatrick to share.
Michael picked up one of the marinated oysters from the bed of sea salt and dug the meat out with the small fork, holding it out for Gemma to eat, before picking up a second for himself and simply slurping the treat from its jagged shell.
“Mmm, yum! I haven’t tried oysters like this before,” Gemma shared.
“Really..? They are good aren’t they? And you know what they say about oysters...”
“No, what do they say?” Gemma inquired. Michael stopped eating and stared at the oblivious expression on her face, contemplating whether or not to enlighten her; but, after considering her recent jumpy reactions to some of his flirtations, he thought it best to keep that information just to himself for the present.
“Just... that they are good for your... health,” Michael added, carefully guarding the small smirk which was threatening to expose his untruth.
“Oh,
The restaurant was upmarket yet friendly and sat overhanging the beach. Michael requested a table outside and then he instinctively took Gemma’s hand and followed the maitre d’ as he escorted them to the balcony. The balcony hung about six foot above but directly over the sand and gave them full viewing access to the medium-sized waves tumbling in towards them about twenty-five metres away.
The maitre d’ held out a chair for Gemma, and she removed her small handbag and sat down, placing the bag on the floor beside her. Michael, of course found his own way to the seat opposite her and helped himself. Their host handed them a menu each and informed them, “Your waiter will be out to collect your order shortly... Can I get you something to drink?” Michael ordered them a glass each of sparkling house wine.
“Michael, this is a beautiful place...” Gemma offered as she looked about her. The chairs were dark wood and comfortable, the tables all dressed in long white cloths and each adorned with a long vase containing a single orchid and a beaker containing a flickering candle and protecting it from the ocean breeze which threatened to snuff it out... There was calming, un-intrusive classical music tuning in the background, and melding perfectly with the sound of the crashing waves. But of course, the most amazing feature of all was the proximity to the beach itself, bathing them in its delicious scent and freshness.
“Yes... I’ve always wanted to come...” Michael told her.
“Oh, you haven’t been here before?”
“No. I’ve seen it advertised and I’ve driven past it...” Michael said and then he smiled and pointed to the ocean, “I’ve even swum past it.” Gemma chuckled as she pictured him splashing in the surf. “But I’ve never been...”
“Well, now you have...” Gemma offered and they smiled.
The maitre d’ returned and placed a couple of flutes on the table and proceeded to pour each of them a glass. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked. Michael declined, and the man left.
Gemma lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. “Mmmm..!”
Michael too, sampled the swill, “Sweet and fruity!”
“Just like us!” Gemma declared with a grin, and Michael observed her surprising sassiness, his caterpillars once again wriggling across his brow.
“What? Wait, who is sweet and who is fruity?” Michael inquired and Gemma giggled.
“Well, I definitely think I’m sweet...”
“Which leaves me with fruity..? Cheeky...” he accused as he raised his glass, “Hmmm, to the sweet and the fruity!” Gemma giggled again as she raised her glass and Michael chinked his against it.
The waiter came and they placed their orders. Michael chose a Reef and Beef Platter, Gemma selected a dish of Creamy Garlic Prawns and for an entree they ordered a plate of Oysters Kilpatrick to share.
Michael picked up one of the marinated oysters from the bed of sea salt and dug the meat out with the small fork, holding it out for Gemma to eat, before picking up a second for himself and simply slurping the treat from its jagged shell.
“Mmm, yum! I haven’t tried oysters like this before,” Gemma shared.
“Really..? They are good aren’t they? And you know what they say about oysters...”
“No, what do they say?” Gemma inquired. Michael stopped eating and stared at the oblivious expression on her face, contemplating whether or not to enlighten her; but, after considering her recent jumpy reactions to some of his flirtations, he thought it best to keep that information just to himself for the present.
“Just... that they are good for your... health,” Michael added, carefully guarding the small smirk which was threatening to expose his untruth.
“Oh,
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