“Good Lord, do these guys ever stop coming?”
Taylor turned her eyes towards the grinning Argentinian who proudly displayed his succulent offering. The tastes and smells of the evening delighted her senses, but her body could only handle so much indulgence. Her over-stimulated mouth failed to produce words. The name “Ricardo” rolled around in her mind every time she read the nametag of her gaucho waiter.
“That’s the beauty of this place,” said Ginger. “You’re in control. You can make them stop anytime you like.” Ginger winked at her friend of more than fifteen years, casually flipping a circular card from green to red. A second gaucho, clad all in white save for a sky blue neckerchief, approached Ginger from behind. Noticing the restaurant’s trademark signal to stop, he gracefully retreated, ready to proffer his own savory delicacies elsewhere.
“I’m pacing myself,” stated Brandy. “I want a little taste from each guy tonight so I can decide who’s best.”
“Well I definitely want this,” proclaimed Taylor. She nodded at Ricardo. He beamed with pride as he slid a sizzling, spiced sausage on to her plate. Steam rose from the encased meat. Taylor’s eyes were wide with admiration as she waited for her latest sample to cool. Arched bronze letters adorned the edge of the bone white plate.