Dreamscape Number “Sappy Asshole”

In real life, we had only been on one date. It was a standard meet-n-greet. She had a pretty smile, a firm grasp on good music, and a strong sense of independence that appealed to me.
The dream took place on our 4th date. We were comfortable with one another, had a good banter, and shared a handful of quiet conversations close to one another that bordered on confessional. We hadn’t kissed yet, cuz she was a girl who wasn’t prone to first moves, and because I was a pussy.
We went to a small restaurant that had enough style to elevate it from diner status—wood paneled walls, secret booths, soft light, prices that didn’t make it feel like you were getting raped by a psychotic chef.
It was empty, literally. We both knew the spot, and new that it was good, so the usual rule of empty restaurant = botulism and dickish staff didn’t apply. It was just a slow afternoon.
Our waitress was older, 60 or so, and it’s shitty to say, she was competing with the younger, hotter (two were WAY hot) waitresses. She suggested that we sit out on the back patio, twice. The weather wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t anything anyone would want to dine in. Overcast, sporadic drizzle, hovering in the early ‘50s. We declined twice, then She of the Date saw a silent pleading in the lady’s eyes, like she needed a table or else it was all over. Not on a global level, but on a personal level. And really, when it’s all over on a personal level, things may as well be over on a global level. Why we distinguish twixt the two doesn’t seem to make much sense.
Anyhoo, date agreed, waitress said she’d bring us coffees and menus in a second, and we went out… and it was lightly raining. There were about 5 tables on a small, tree-covered deck that had been well maintained. I looked at her. She looked at me. We smirked in unison.
She found the one table that was under the thickest tree, hoping the branches and boughs would protect us. Nonetheless, the table was damp, as were the benches. She stepped up onto one of the benches and turned to me, small navy blue umbrella dangling, all bound and useless, from her left hand.
“Well…” she shrugged.
I snickered and walked up to her. We hadn’t really touched yet, but it was due. Not consciously. The universe just needed it to happen. She was 5’ 1”, so even standing on the bench she wasn’t all that tall. My face came up to chest level on her and I walked up, close, and some unseen hand simultaneously dropped my forehead against her chest as she leaned into me. It was nothing sexual, just physical and comforting. I felt at home for the first time in a long while, temporarily forgetting that I’d no doubt end up temporarily ruining her life within 6 months or so, if I stuck to my unfortunate pattern. It was nice just to have a moment, to feel right, and in touch with someone else.
She leaned all the way into me and I put my arms around her as she came off the bench, me supporting her tiny frame, her arms still at her side, me slowly letting her slide down me. I felt it and mildly panicked, and apparently she felt it too when she got to that point, her knee brushing it.
“You’ve got a bone, huh?”
“Uh… oops?” I blushed
That was when I heard the waitress come out with coffee and beverages, probably putting a bullet into this moment for now. Before I totally let her go and we acknowledged the new arrival she reached up with her perfect lips, her ridiculously white teeth, all up on tippy toes, and whispered into my ear:
“It’s OK, I like it.”
And I melted.