The Girl sits picking at a scab on her ankle. The sore lingered as a reminder of a fabulously wonderful pair of shoes. The black shoes boasted a 5 ½ inch silver heels, a zippered strap running up the Achilles to a rhinestone encrusted strap that wraps around the ankle, finished off with a rhinestone encrusted strap that swoops across the toes. The shoes smoked and in them The Girl was smokin’. But still, like all truly wonderful things, they left a mark, as did the evening She wore them.

Nova dreamed up the delicious idea for the gang to deck themselves out in their finest, rent a super-stretch limo and ride to some posh restaurant and drink and eat themselves silly. Of course, because decadence was involved, everyone agreed.

Jill and Woody know a guy who knows a guy, so they rented the limo at cost. They chose to dine at Bern’s Steakhouse, which is in Tampa. Everyone poured themselves into their finery and loaded into the limo.

The trip down rocked. The limousine stretched out into the lap of luxury. A full bar, deluxe leather seats, a booming sound system, and twinkling stars in the ceiling screamed of the debauchery the crowd so loves. The minute everyone sank into their seats the party began. Sy passed out flutes of champagne and Jill cranked up the stereo. The gang chatted and laughed. They played word games. They rolled down the windows and waved at the little people in their regular cars going about their regular lives. They stopped (3 times in 1 ½ hours) to use the restroom and smoke.

Finally they arrived at Bern’s. From the outside the famous steakhouse reminded the Girl of a factory or a warehouse. The crew unloaded, gave the Maitre’d their names, and headed for the bar. Once inside, the eatery no longer seemed like a factory, but rather a whorehouse, albeit an upscale one. Dark wood, red velvet walls, gold paint, busts and friezes helped to create the rich bordello look. Deliciously gaudy.

Speaking of delicious, the captain called for them almost immediately. Bern’s famous phonebook sized wine list rested on the table, so of course, The Boy was in heaven. They ordered a bottle of merlot. (All wine snobs make fun of merlot. But a great merlot really complements a great steak and The Boy and The Girl are uber-snobs of the, “Yeah Whatever,” delivered with a snotty smirk variety and don’t listen to the ramblings of lesser snobs.) They crew talked and drank and ate some appetizers (wunderbar calamari) while waiting for their steaks. The Girl loves her friends and relished in their company.

The dining experience was amazing. The Girl believes that few nobler or more difficult jobs exist than that of a good waiter. Their waiter honed the craft to a fine point. Friendly and efficient, he served them with a grace and elegance to match the evening. Perfect, fresh organic veggies from Bern’s own garden made a delectable salad. The Girl doused hers with wasabi green goddess. Then the steaks arrived. Bern Laxer ages his steaks to perfection. The Girl savored every bite of her 7 oz, medium rare, special chateaubriand. Without hyperbole, The Girl knows that this steak surpassed any She had ever or will ever eat. Dinner lingered on, well into the night. Everyone downed glass after glass of wine. Clouds gathered over the table. No one noticed. They continued on.

To be continued…