A Chance Meeting

Part 1

She was exhausted. She had to get up 3 hours earlier than usual to make the drive from Richmond to D.C. for the 9 o'clock meeting. It had been a long day with a working lunch. Fortunately, the meeting was at the hotel where she had a room, and she had been able to slip away for a few minutes in the afternoon to check in. She would enjoy a restful evening and a good night's sleep. After the meeting the next day, she would head back home, maybe. Her company had offered to let her stay a second night and she was seriously considering it. She was thinking that she wouldn't want to make the drive home after another lengthy, intense work session, and have to make that daily transition from professional woman to mom after a long drive. But, she could make that decision tomorrow.

She finally said her goodbyes to the other team members, and again reassured them that she would be fine going back to the room. She explained that she was tired, and wanted to grab a quick bite to eat. She said that she also needed to call her husband. She lied, but it added more plausibility to her excuse.

She was really tired of these people. They were nice enough, but it had been a long, intense day, and she was ready for some distance. She would get a drink, or two and something light to eat, and then enjoy a nice long bath and the solitude of her room, and some much needed down time.

The young man at the front desk suggested Maddy's. It was only four blocks away, and they had great food with a laid back atmosphere. He said it wouldn't be too loud, but there would be a crowd, and most likely a short wait for a table or booth.

The thought of waiting to eat alone didn't intrigue her, but she figured she'd give it a try. She could always come back to the hotel and order room service. She thought about changing first, but knew if she went to her room, she wouldn't leave. She really did want to get out, at least for some fresh air.

She walked the four blocks. It was a pleasant evening, so she somewhat enjoyed it, even though her feet were killing her. Sure enough, there would be about a 30 minute wait, but the hostess suggested the bar if she was eating alone. The round tops and the seats at the bar were first come, first serve.

She bit her lip, thinking about. As soon as she looked over toward the bar, a man who was seated near the end, stood, threw down some cash, and left. She quickly moved toward the empty seat. There was a couple engrossed in a conversation to the right, and a man sitting at the end to the left, who appeared to be reading a Kindle or maybe a Nook. Perfect. She wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

She didn't ask either the man or the couple if the seat was taken. She just sat down. Within a minute, one of the bartenders, a clean-shaven man who appeared to be in his late twenties, came over, smiled and asked, "What can I get ya?" as he scooped up the check and the money on the bar.

"Whatever Merlot you suggest, and a dinner menu please."

"Sure. Chateau St. Jean."

He leaned to his left, and grabbed a menu and placed it front of her.

"Appetizers are half price for another 20 minutes."

"Thanks"

She looked at the appetizers, but everything seemed to be fried, or something she didn't really like, so she continued to look over the menu.

The man, of the couple to the right, had his back to her. She could hear bits and pieces of the conversation. She decided they weren't a couple because they seemed to be discussing something related to work, or possibly gossiping about co-workers. She sensed she had rolled her eyes. They also seemed to have been there awhile, at least the man who was holding a drink that was half empty.

The man to the left was engrossed in whatever he was reading. Occasionally, he would take a sip of his beer, which was mostly full, but he would never take his eyes off the screen of his e-reader. Yet, he did seem different. It appeared that everyone in the bar was dressed in a suit. Some of the men wore khakis and button down shirts, but almost all of them had ties. The women were dressed just as professionally, wearing either business suits or nice blouses and skirts. She was wearing a professional, but very tight fitting black dress that accented her figure. When she had put it on that morning, she really didn't know why she selected that particular dress, but she didn't think about it too much either.

The out of place man was dressed in an untucked, faded bluish t-shirt, short pants, and sandals.

Tom Cruise, she thought to herself. That's who the bartender looks like. Tom Cruise in ... what was the name of the movie ... Cocktail! I wonder if ... no, she thought to herself. He's probably never seen it. He's too young. She laughed audibly, but to herself. Out of the corner eye, she thought she saw the man to her left quickly glance over, but then back to his book. She didn't return the furtive look.

Tom Cruise returned with her Merlot and asked if she was ready to order.

"I'll have a Greek salad with the Vinaigrette. That's it. Thanks."

"Be right up. Bread?

"No thank you."

She began to sip her glass of wine. She quickly decided that Tom Cruise made a pretty good suggestion. She had a quick thought she might be here awhile. All she needed to do was make it back four blocks, but then she remembered the bath that was awaiting her. She would eat the salad, and maybe have another glass of wine, and then head back to her room.

She continued to sip her drink, enjoying the taste, and the relaxing effect it was having on her. Still, she rubbed her neck which was still tense, both from the drive and the day-long meeting, that hadn't gone that well. They had made progress, but still had a lot to accomplish the next day. She had almost finished her glass of wine when Tom Cruise returned with her salad.

"Another one?"

"Yes, please"

The salad was way too big. She could only see herself eating half of it. She would do what she could do, finish her second glass of wine, and head back to the room. She slowly worked on the salad, and the wine that Tom Cruise had brought her. She had just taken a bite of the salad when he cruised by and asked, "Anything else?" Her mouth was full of salad so she nodded no. "Okay, I'll get your check."

With her mouth still half full of salad she almost shouted, "Shit ... shit."

The man to the right never heard her, but the man to the left, still engrossed in the book looked up and said,

"I've had the salads here. They're not that bad."

She finished chewing, swallowed and said, "No. It's just. Damn. I left my purse in a meeting room at the Marriott just down the street."

"Hmm ... quite the predicament," he said with a wry smile.

She smirked. She didn't see the humor. She thought she might be able convince Tom Cruise to let her walk down, find someone to open the door, get her purse, which was hopefully still there, and then walk back down to the restaurant, and then back down to the hotel, all in these shoes that were killing her feet.

"This just kind of put a damper on my evening. I was really looking forward to relaxing and a nice, long hot bath. Not the best end to not the best day."

"Tell you what. I'll take care of your dinner."

"No, you can't do that."

"Sure I can. No hidden agenda. Promise. You'll get back to your room and into your bath a lot sooner. Just pay it forward when you get the chance."

She quickly thought about the trek up and back and back up again, and trying to find someone, and ...

"Well, okay. Are you sure?

"Absolutely."

"Well, thank you so much. My name is Stefanie."

She extended her hand, which he took and smiled, "I'm Asa."

Part 2

Their conversation was natural and casual. She told him a little about her job and why she was in D.C. The day had been long and the meeting had been intense and exhausting, but they had accomplished much. She thought they would be able to finish by mid or late afternoon on Friday, at which point she would decide whether or not to head back to Richmond. She didn't need to get back right away, and the thought of drive after another stressful and draining day was not very appealing.

He told her that he had an apartment within walking distance, and that he frequented Maddy's at least once a week. He spent more time at The Meeting Place, a coffee shop down the street. Most often, he spent his evenings alone.

He was an English professor. He had relocated to the Northern Virginia area about 10 years ago, had left for a couple of years, but had just returned to D.C. to take a teaching position at American University. He was passionate about education, and couldn't imagine doing anything else. Although retirement was on the distant horizon, he didn't obsess or think about it much. He would keep teaching as long as he enjoyed it, and maybe, eventually transitioning to teaching part-time to spend more time writing.

She had lived in Richmond about 10 years; it was now home, but not quite. She didn't elaborate too much on where she was from or the path she had traveled.

She had a daughter middle school and son in elementary school. In the last few years, life had a different feel. There seemed to be more time for her, fewer obligations, at least with family. She had her friends and different things she liked to do, the gym ... the weekly book club. She was active, exercising daily, whether it be running or working out.

He told her of his love for the outdoors, and his passion for cycling. He didn't like groups, enjoying more the solitude of a long, lonely ride. Hiking, camping, and riding all allowed him to indulge his reclusive tendencies, alone with his thoughts and the experience of the moment. This isolation and aloneness were necessary to both his mental and emotional well-being. It allowed him to explore and reflect upon his deepest aspect of his true self.

But, he liked to spend time at Maddy's and a few local coffee shops, and other places with people. He was able to connect with others, but still at a distance, observing and listening to those around him without having to get too close.

He too was a voracious reader with eclectic tastes, consuming everything ... fiction, news, political ideology, history, philosophy, theology ... erotica.

"What are you reading now? You seemed enthralled by it."

"Delta of Venus by Anais Nin.

"Don't know it, or her? Or him?

"Anais Nin was probably the first female writer of erotica, in Paris in the late 30's and 40's. She had an affair with Henry Miller, and possibly his wife June Miller. They were all part of the Bohemian scene. Miller, Nin and a few others wrote erotica for a guy they referred to as "The Collector" for a dollar a page. She later moved to America where she married another man, while still married to her husband. One was on the East coast, the other on the West.

"Anyway, in her erotica and diaries she explored female sexuality, and a few other taboo topics. She's kind of revered by modern feminists who see her as a woman who was in control, relationally ... sexually."

"Here," he said, opening his Nook. I had just read this when I heard you say 'Shit,' twice I think.

She smiled, only slightly embarrassed.

'When she closed her eyes she felt he had many hands, which touched her everywhere, and many mouths, which passed so swiftly over her, and with a wolf-like sharpness, his teeth sank into her fleshiest parts. Naked now, he lay his full length over her. She enjoyed his weight on her, enjoyed being crushed under his body. She wanted him soldered to her, from mouth to feet. Shivers passed through her body.'

"It's more than who's on top. She's in control, of at least her situation."

"Really?"

He didn't respond to her question. He stared into her eyes, leaning forward slightly. The moment was tense, and passionate. She thought she might be blushing. She tilted her head and asked, playfully, "What's a high school English teacher doing reading erotica. You're not looking for a new novel to teach? I'm sure it's on the some banned list somewhere."

Smiling and moving a bit closer, he continued, "Nin provokes us to challenge the morals and norms that confine us, repress our true nature. She demands that we reject society's notion of acceptable sexuality. She refused to allow expectations to define her.

"Most people live in a perpetual state of fear, primarily, we are scared, no terrified that we are going to die, without ever having lived and done the things we most want to do."

Slightly turning her head she asked, "So, like writing an ... erotic bucket list of sorts?

"Much more. Nin also wrote, 'Those who live deeply have no fear of death.' Only when we allow our passions, desires, needs ... lust to consume us, will we be free from all that restricts and oppresses us. Only then are we free to live the life we have imagined."

Again, he stopped abruptly, looking into her eyes. He was enjoying the silence, and that she was clearly, at least mildly, uncomfortable.

She pulled back, but only slightly, for she had felt herself leaning toward him too. She thought quickly thought of Ron, her husband. They had met and dated during college, and then married. They had kids, worked on their careers, and done everything they were supposed to do. Along the way, almost from the beginning, they drifted apart, finding different interests, living separate lives. Now the kids were growing up and finding their own interests. At times, she would sigh deeply at the thought of being alone with him in the house, sometimes, unaware that he was in the room. He would ask, "What's wrong," and she would smile and say, "Oh, nothing."

She sighed, and briefly looked off into the distance, but then back at Asa.

Then again, she looked away, reaching over and picking up her glass of wine ... her fourth. She took a sip and placed it back on the bar. She looked back at him, deeper into his eyes.

Her left hand was on her thigh. He looked slightly down, and without asking, reached over and took her hand, softly rubbing the top with his thumb. Then, lifting his head and he asked, "How deeply are you living."

Part 3

She continued to look at him for another few moments. She looked away, aware that he was still staring intently at her, yet somehow lost in her own thoughts ... and rising emotions.

Life wasn't supposed to be a mundane, routine. Certainly, we needed to work, pay the mortgage and the other bills, and build a nest egg for retirement. Had success and security consumed her? Did responsibility, obligation, and expectations own her? What was purpose of living without passion, adventure, excitement, even abandonment at times?

Was she afraid? Was she too focused on what she should do and was expected to do? Did she dwell too much on what she hadn't done?

Tom Cruise returned, and Asa told him to bring the updated check that included an extra glass of wine.

Was the clock ticking? Did she need to make a decision ... quickly? Was this another opportunity that she would let slip away? Would her heart never win the struggle with the sound, impeccable reasoning of her mind? Would she always remember with regret what she hadn't done? She felt her heart racing, almost fluttering. She also sensed a tingle ... butterflies she hadn't felt in a long time.

Tom Cruise had returned with the second check. Asa reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. He place both checks in the same folder, along with the card on moved it toward Tom, who took it and headed toward the register, which was thankfully at the other end of the bar.

She looked at him, almost pleading.

"I have a lot at stake here. The kids. The house. The marriage, even though it's really not. You're not married are you?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, you don't have a ring, and I assume you live alone ... in your apartment?"

"I choose not to wear a ring, not because I'm a player, but because I don't like jewelry. My wife lives in New York. I moved here alone. It's a bit complicated, but I go there about twice a month. She comes here about once every other month. My schedule is more flexible. Even though we do live distinctly different and separate lives at this point, I'm still very married.

Tom Cruise returned and placed the folder in front of Asa, and said, "Thanks. Ya'll have a good evening." Asa nodded and smiled, and opened the folder, retrieved his card and returned it to his wallet, scribbled a few things, and closed it.

He then returned his undivided attention to her. Stefanie could feel that she was the center of his attention, of his world at this moment. Somehow, she trusted him. She reached down and took his hand. Sliding off the bar stool, she kissed him on the cheek, and said, "Let's go."

Part 4

He held the door for her, and she exited to the street.

"You're at the Marriott, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

They didn't talk much, hardly at all. He commented on the evening, and how he enjoyed this time of year, the warmth of the days and the coolness of the nights. She added that she was always enjoyed spring, and that it was merely about the more moderate temperatures, but the sense of change and new beginnings.

For next few blocks, neither said a word. They walked beside each other, each one stealing an occasional glance. He seemed to walk as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if this were the natural end to a normal day. Although she appeared calm and unnerved, her heart was racing, and thoughts flooding her mind, emotions continuing to rise up within her. In a brief moment of doubt, she looked at him, and he smiled, almost reassuring her, allowing her convince herself that this is what she wanted to do ... needed to do. Her always rationale and pragmatic mind would not win the day. She would follow her heart, and the longing and desire that she felt now even more deeply.

She could feel her sense of expectancy growing, the nervousness and anticipation that she had not felt in what seemed like forever. They walked slowly, but with purpose, neither wanting to appear overly excited.

As they got closer to the hotel, suggested what they should do when they got to the hotel, and he agreed.

When they finally arrived at the Marriot, he opened both the outer, then the inner door. As they entered the lobby, he strolled toward the elevators. She proceeded to the front desk, and spoke to a young man who seemed anxious to help. She explained her situation. He smiled and rounded the desk and led her toward the conference room. He unlocked the door, and opened and held it for her. She walked over to where her laptop and computer bag sat on the table. She knelt, and retrieved her purse from under the table where she had left it. She walked by the young man, smiled, and said, "Thank you so much." She then headed toward the elevators.

When he saw her coming, he pressed the 'Up' button. Just as she arrived, so did an overweight, disheveled looking business man who looked like he had been through hell. He was holding a briefcase and pulling a cart with two other bags.

As soon as she got to him, she reached up and lightly touching him on one cheek, she kissed the other. He turned and kissed her on the lips, lingering only for a moment. The door opened and they entered, followed by the unkempt man. They positioned themselves at the back of the elevator, holding hands, shoulders touching.

The door closed and the business man pressed Floor 2, and then looked around. She said, "Seven please. He obliged.

The elevator quickly made its first stop. The man exited, and Asa reached over and pressed the 'Close' button. Not quite before the door had closed, dropping her purse, she twisted and almost lunged at him. They began to kiss deeply and passionately, her hands up on his shoulders. After dropping his satchel, he moved his hands to the small of her back, pulling her toward him.