The Way to A Man's Heart (Zach)

The hostess had the rest of the week off, as it turned out, and was wishing Katya a happy weekend when her eyes were pulled from Katya to something behind her. Kat turned and found herself looking at an extremely attractive man. The sort who looked like they knew they were attractive and were therefore either a pompous knob or put forth very little effort in the way of wooing a woman. He stared at her tits as he spoke, so Katya pinned him as the latter sort. Katya gave a forced smile and spoke in a thick Russian accent. “Ya delayu vid, chto ne govoryu po-angliyski, chtoby ty ne flirtoval so mnoy. Ya nadeyus', vy ne znayete russkiy yazyk, potomu chto togda ya budu oblazhalsya.” She hoped he didn’t speak Russian, because all she’d said was that she didn’t want him to hit on her. If he could understand her she’d come off as the presumptuous bitch, which she was technically being whether he spoke her language or not. She’d yet to meet anyone here who spoke Russian, aside from her cousin Igor who happened to live in the UK but she didn’t meet up with him all that often. He was nice enough but the two had little in common and there wasn’t a strong bond there.

It was a safe bet that she could blow this guy off with a little play acting. Foreign languages seemed so confusing to some people and it was really rather humorous to watch them try to get out of the conversation if they thought English wouldn’t work. They tended to speak louder, in English mind you, and use a lot of emphatic hand gestures that really didn’t have anything to do with what they were saying. It was a good time in all, but of course Karla, the hostess, was a pretty thing but dumb as a bag of dead cats and had to ruin the game by opening her mouth. “Katya, you’re so silly! You speak English!”

Katya inhaled and her smile tightened, mild annoyance written on her face. “Oh yes, I must have forgotten. Thank you much, Karla.” With a more apologetic expression, she turned back to Hottie. “I’m glad you like my pie.”

If that wasn’t confirmation that the bloke did not speak Russian, Katya didn’t know what was. She’d not been hitting on him in the slightest, and as he seemingly joked about her to Karla, Katya muttered “tupaya zadnitsa” under her breath. Alright, he was being rather cute but also very presumptuous and Katya was not in the mood to be ogled by a man interested in her pies. He was complimentary, both with his eyes that had fallen on her tits and with her words regarding her baked goods. She was pleased with her skills in the kitchen and supposed she couldn’t fault him for trying to be funny, even if he was failing at it. “Spasibo,” she replied, then corrected herself and spoke in English. “I am happy you like my pies.” She raised her brows a little, smirking at the man but otherwise she kept a professional look about her. Smacking a customer with her hand bag and calling him an attractive pervert was not likely to keep her as the head chef. Compliments to the chef were usually delivered via the waiter while she was still in the kitchen, where upon she would ask if the customer was attractive and make a joke about sending the hot ones a little something extra, but it was all in jest and she wasn’t prepared to make the same sort of remarks to an actual customer. Brown-green eyes shifting back to the hostess, Katya tried to make a speedy exit. “Try not to smile at this one when you ring him up, Karla. We do not want him thinking you are flirtovat with him.” She grinned at the hostess then, giving Hottie one last quick glance, she turned toward the door and pushed it open, stepping out into the street. She was ready for a little time to herself, not sure what she would do with the rest of the day off but certain something entertaining would catch her eye.