"So, do you like Pinter?"
	She turned the warm mug of tea around before picking it up with
 her other hand.  "Not particularly.  No."
	"Find his work to be stirring and original.  Once auditioned for a 
role in Betrayal."
	Smiling politely after sipping her tea, she pushed the half eaten 
piece of cheesecake in his direction.  He glanced down at it, 
pausing to push his hair out of his eyes.
	"Don't you want any?"  She chimed.
	"Don't do dairy."
	"Oh?"
	"Milk is simply another way we exploit animals."
	"And tea is exploiting plants," she noted.
	He rolled his eyes, pressing his shoulders squarely against the 
high backed chair.  She showed no emotion, raising the mug of 
tea to her warm, red lips.  Around her the quiet conversations of 
the other patrons of the tiny Venice coffeehouse drifted in and 
out of his attention.  Background music.  "Not working," he thought.
	"You enjoying this?"  He asked her, glancing idly at his empty 
bottle of water.
	"In real life?"
	"Uh huh."
	"Not really.  Want to try something else?"
	"Yeah.  Your lead this time."
	She grinned at him.  Sliding her small hand casually through 
her hair, she eased in closer to the table and slowly brought 
the mug of tea to her lips, pouting her lips before drinking, then 
just touching the tip of her tongue to them afterwards.
	"You like college?" she purred.
	"Um, sure.  Why wouldn't I?" he answered back, smiling uneasily 
as he pushed an annoying strand of hair from his eyes.
	Reaching under the table with her stray hand, she slowly 
massaged his knee, admiring him with the same alluring grin.  
He dug a fork into the cheesecake and took a hurried bite.
	"So, you have a girlfriend?"
	"No," he swallowed.  "Don't really date much."
	"Really?" she said with mock surprise.  "I bet you're good."

11/95

Tom's Notes:

Did a scene just like this with Carla long, long ago where we both agreed, before going into our favorite coffee shop, to take on the roles of different people for the night and see what would happen. No one would know, which was the charm of it, that we were playing as someone else, and as the night wore on, the characters became more and more unusual.

Roleplaying. We had several "scenes" not unlike the one written above. But the story above isn't just a remembrance of a game played one night at a coffeehouse, it's also a commentary on the cultured lifestyle, dating, and superficiality.

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