Seeing Paulette at her accustomed station, he said to the Maître d' who was fussing like an old hen, "Table 67 will be fine." But Your Magnificence,....."The Emir ignored him and walked over to table 67 where he sat down. This left the Maître d' with no choice but to bring him a menu and signal the Head Sommelier to serve in that ill-regarded corner of the establishment. The Chef de Station was also told that this customer was to be served only by Paulette. The Maître d's most ardent desire was. But we won’t let you,’ she whispered into my ear. ‘We are going to keep teasing you.’ She finished with a quick nip of my earlobe, pulled Katherine to her, kissed her soundly and made a little shooing motion. ‘Go on. Back to work.’ Giggling, the two of them turned and headed along the Mall towards the Smithsonian, while I could do little more than watch their retreating asses. It was shaping up to be a very long afternoon. My afternoon was unproductive. I spent most of it in a fog. I could not. More

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