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You know how to play your game.
I can see it all now.
You entered the restaurant a few minutes late, making sure that he was already seated. You ensured he could see you as you swayed between the tables led by the diminutive maitre d’hotel. Your dress was perfect, wasn’t it? It was long, elegant and completely flattering; just low enough to be enticing. You held your head high to show off the curve of your neck and the simple diamond necklace. You had your hair up to show off the matching earrings. A vision of understated elegance.
Where you watching him already, studying, gauging his masculine reaction?
Of course you were! You made eye contact from the first. You extended your hand in warm greeting as he stood to meet you. You shook his hand, smiling and beaming your charm all over him. You sat as the head waiter deftly tucked your chair in place and discretely stowed your evening purse. Did you already know that you had him? Or were you just at the beginning of the performance?
You smiled. You laughed, carefree and musical. You let him take the lead in the conversation. After the plates from the appetisers were taken away and the wine had been tasted, you touched his hand. You remarked on the lovely restaurant and the splendid evening. Conspiratorial. Drawing him toward you and capturing him in your dance.
You kept it up all through dinner, didn’t you? Pausing now and again to lean back in your chair, tuck in a stray wisp of hair or simply to gaze about. You were certain he was watching. You ate sparingly and delicately with impeccable manners. You took tiny sips of your wine while studying him over the top of your glass. You were gracious and kept your eyes fixed on him; singling him out, making him the only man in the world.
Did you think he could resist you? When the little combo on the stage in the corner struck up a waltz after dinner, you asked him to dance, didn’t you? You held his hand gently as you walked to the dance floor. You stood just a little close to him and allowed your bodies to brush against one another. Your left hand, you placed a little high on his shoulder, closer to his neck so he would be certain to feel it’s warmth and smell the delicate perfume that you had put on your wrist.
Why did you let him accompany you in the taxi back to your apartment? Was there more you could have done. Yes, there was. As he slid into the taxi, you slipped your arm under his and pretended to check your purse for something. And so, with arms linked, like for a Sunday promenade on Park Avenue, the taxi hissed through the night-time streets.
At the door of your apartment, did you gently take his arm as he thanked you, stammering? Did you rise up on the toes of your shoes and gently kiss him on the cheek? Did you let him feel the warmth of your lips on his skin for just the correct amount of time? Of course, you did. Your eyes sparkled as though with emotion and a little colour crept into your cheeks. You slipped through the door of your apartment and turned again, smiling at him, and whispered ‘Thank-you’.
Why did it have to be me?
I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Your hips moved gently side to side. You slid between the tables of other diners with a dancer’s poise. I couldn’t have imagined you more beautiful. I felt entranced by your eyes, so large and clear blue; holding my gaze.
When you reached out to take my hand in greeting, I felt the soft warmth of your palm against mine. I watched your graceful movements as you sat and collected yourself. I smiled, self-conscious, when tasting the wine, you complimented me on the choice.
During dinner, I think I meandered from topic to topic but I don’t remember anything I said. I made a quip, a little cruel, about the height of the maitre d’hotel and you laughed with making me feel even more cruel. But still I wandered on in my vague discourse, prompted by your questions, a laugh, your gaze always upon me. When I stumbled, you always had a comment to set me at ease.
I accepted and felt the warmth rise in my neck when you asked me dance. With my hand in the centre of your back, I could feel you moving, gliding slowly to the rhythm of the music, my whole body aware of your closeness and the subtle tone of your perfume.
In the taxi at the end of the evening, I couldn’t think of anything to say. With you arm linked under mine, I was drawn closer to you; aware of your body next to mine, aware of your breathing, aware of you poking about in the tiny purse looking for your apartment key. I watched the darkened streets slip by outside the smeared windows of the cab and tried not to be intoxicated by your perfume which seemed to drown my senses.
Your apartment door was a barrier I knew I would not cross, and yet I still wanted more of you. I could feel the heat in my face as I thanked you, my mind going double-time trying not to sound like a fool. I felt my pulse quicken as you slid your hands over my forearm. I felt my head swim. Your face, so beautiful, drew close to mine and I felt your lips on my cheek, soft and warm for a moment stretching out infinitely. I was falling. I was falling into you, for you. Enraptured. My last vision of you: your face, a light blush on your cheeks, framed in the half-closed door as you whispered to me, ‘Thank-you’.
And I am in love with you.
What will you do with me now?
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This was a bit strange to write, switching from the third person to the first and describing the same thing twice. I originally started it off with ‘You filthy b**ch’, and you might wonder why. It is because, I think, my alter-ego in the story is angry at himself for allowing himself to be seduced by this captivating woman, and for allowing his own emotions to rule. He hates the loss of control. Anyway, I took it out ‘cause I thought it was a bit strong. But I guess you will be the judge of whether it works or not and I hope you liked it. Cheers!
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Nice story Stickman...as usual. I like the switch. :)
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Posted by alleen
on 2008-02-03 00:12:52
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I think this story was very intriguing. Mostly because I've been that woman, and I had no idea what the opposite side of the tale was until now.
You were succesfull in switching the POV without confusing your readers...not easy and you made it work.
Nicely done!
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Posted by smilinirisheyes
on 2008-02-03 17:32:54
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i thought it was brilliant. absolutely beautiful work.
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Posted by brokenangel
on 2008-02-03 23:36:56
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Delightfully sensitive, yet there was an unwritten emotion sitting between the lines and for me at least, 'you filthy b**ch' was it. Not that the lady seemed tht way, but there was an undertone of resentment almost...
Well done on the alternative pov's.
Merlyn x
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Posted by Merlyn
on 2008-02-04 04:14:38
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You should be doing this for money, stickman. The transition was perfect.
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Posted by Pauligan
on 2008-02-04 04:46:05
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| Views: 130
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