For A Pair Of Perfect Breasts

Deciding that it was time I tasted a real pollo a la brasa (rotisserie chicken), Joe led me towards a restaurant from a popular chain specializing in the Lima original recipe. But before we rounded the corner, he pulled me aside and said in all seriousness, "Look, Lani. This is how it works in these places - when a couple walks in to order, they never let you have two chicken breasts. It's always one, and the other is the leg." I protested that the thigh and the drumstick were actually my favorite parts, but he went on, "For this dish, the breast is the best, so you go in first and I'll follow later."

So I went in and took a seat. The waiter handed me the menu and I saw that it was a little more expensive than we had originally planned for, but the waiter was hovering and I felt bad leaving. I could see Joe pacing across the street and considered signaling to him the "expensive" gesture, but I knew I would get caught. So I ordered, ensuring that I asked for the breast as Joe insisted, and reasoned that the food looked really good and it was a one-off time.

A few minutes later, Joe entered and sat at a separate booth. We could barely contain the laughter. After starting our meals, he came over to me with his plate, saying loud enough for the nearby waiter to hear, "Señorita, do you remember me?" I said I didn't and then we held a fake conversation where I finally remembered and we asked each other the usual questions like "What have you been up to since?" The waiter watched us suspiciously for a moment, then left, either buying our ruse or knowing there was no point scolding us for tricking him.

The food was indeed delicious and worth the little bit extra, and after finishing, Joe and I walked out of the restaurant together, giggling like naughty school children.