A Date Ch. 1

It had been a long time since I had gone out and done anything social; a very long time. Six months prior, my girlfriend of three years, Jessica, and I had decided to part ways. Not long before we broke up, we had been talking of marriage, kids, a house, pets. Something I had said had driven her from me. Don't get me wrong, we had a very communicative relationship. Even so, I still couldn't put my finger on what was so wrong with what I had said. Before you start thinking it was something terrifically kinky, you should know two things: first, it was something that would be tremendously kinky in the eyes of some; and, second, it had more to do with control than with sexuality. I had told her that I wanted to be tied to the bed, and dominated.

As I was saying, it had been six months since Jessica and I had broken up. When you devote three years of your life (more if you count the time we spent before, flirting, in school) to someone, it becomes difficult to imagine him or her not being there. In short, depression had set in. My buddies at work had been trying to get me to come to this sports bar on the beach; but I would just go home after work and mope around. This was good for the wallet, bad for my physique. TV dinners (or, as they are more commonly known today, Frozen Entrees) don't add any to the mix; nor does fast food.

So, one day, Richard, a friend of mine from High School, with whom I currently worked, came up to me and said he had two tickets to the game. Since I'm a huge fan of hockey, and since the Panthers were having some trouble getting their game on, I figured "What the hell. The team can use my support, and it might be good to get out." So we met at the arena, hung out at the Terrace before the game, and had a beer. I was sipping through the thick, creamy head on my Guinness when I happened to look across the bar. That's when our eyes met. The millisecond our eyes locked on each other, I started hearing that awful theme music from the movie American Beauty, and everything seemed to slow down to ¼ speed. As I slowly sat my glass back on the bar, vaguely aware of something Richard was saying, I noticed a slight smile forming on her ruby-red lips. Then, I noticed, an almost imperceptible wink, as the right side of my mouth involuntarily began to curve upward. Richard punched me in the shoulder. I turned to him and scowled.

"What are you doing? You interrupted my looking across the bar at this beauty," as I turned to point her out, sitting across the bar, she was gone. Richard immediately insinuated that it had been too long for me, and that I should start thinking about two things: first, getting back in the "swing of the dating game," and, second, that I should see a shrink.

"But honest, she was right over there. She had gorgeous auburn hair, and these emerald eyes so deep that I was swimming in them from over here," I half whined.

"Mmm hmm," came the sardonic response.

So, at the sound of the national anthem being played in the stadium, we decided we'd go in and take our seats. Since we hadn't been out in a long while, and since the Panthers weren't doing so hot, there was plenty of space on the luxury level; which was where we splurged and sat. Yeah, they were $120.00 tickets, but you can't get much better than center ice with service at your side. I mean, throughout the course of the game, we really didn't have to get up to do anything. However, being the purist that I am, I don't tend to stay in the arena between periods to watch some bozo try to put a puck into the net to win $1,000. During the intermissions, I thought I might run into the lady with the emerald eyes, so I kept walking out into the concourse trying to find her. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

Well, the Panthers ended up not winning, which was fine. The game was still fun, and there was plenty of eye candy (read: women) to go around. As we were walking through the doors to the arena, I saw her standing there. She obviously wasn't waiting for me, but for someone else. I pointed her out to Richard. That's when he started walking toward her. What happened next changed my life. He mortified me by walking up to her and introducing himself. "Hi. My name isn't important, but his is," as he jerked his thumb in my direction.

"This is Michael. He's 28, lives down in Miami, loves the Panthers, and is a die-hard romantic. He hasn't been out to have fun in six months. Maybe you two can get together and have some. I'll be seeing you later, Michael," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Hello, Michael," came the soft response over the din of the crowd. At a snail's pace, my head turned back to her. She was wearing that same half smile that I had caught across the bar. And those eyes. I was getting lost in them just standing there. "I can't seem to find my boyfriend. He got lost inside." My heart sank as she said it.

"Maybe we can go in and I'll help you find him," I responded.

"No… we agreed to meet here, if we became separated."

"Oh… okay. Well, if he doesn't come back, and you happen to want some help putting up posters with his picture on them, just let me know." I handed her a business card with my cell phone written on it. "Call the number on the back."

She halfway laughed as I handed her the card. "Okaaaaaaaay."

"Well, I personally wouldn't have left your side, for fear of someone like me hitting on you," I said with a grin.

"Oh, really? And why would you be hitting on me?"

"For no reason other than your smile, your auburn hair, and those eyes in which I'm presently hopelessly lost."

Just then, her boyfriend came walking up from behind me, brusquely asking, "How can I help you?" He was obviously none too pleased that someone was chatting up his girlfriend.

"Well, a beautiful woman standing here alone, looking worried… I would hope that you would have stopped, too," I said as he grasped her arm and turned her and started walking away.

My face turned glum as I was suddenly alone again, and as I watched, she turned her head back to me… there was that damned wink again. So as we had met, we parted. She with the almost imperceptible wink, me with my dim-witted automatic smile.

The whole walk to the car, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Those eyes. That hair. The vanilla perfume she was wearing. She was soft. Her perfume said that. But the intensity of her eyes was telling me that the perfume was a lie. She wasn't soft. She was relentless, and remorseless. She knew exactly what her assets were, and she used them to her fullest benefit. I can't blame her. She was absolutely stunning. I was definitely not the only guy looking at her tonight, but I was willing to bet that, for better or worse, I was the only one who'd made any impression.

As I climbed up into the Range Rover (a gift to myself after Jessica had thrown my stuff out of her place), my cell phone started vibrating. I picked up the phone and looked at the number. Not recognizing it, I answered, "Michael Robertson."

"Are you getting any yet?" came the crass response from Richard.

"Man, she was the hottest woman I have ever seen."

"Yeah, but you were together when I left you!"

"She's got a boyfriend, and from the looks of it, he's none too pleased with other men moving into his territory."

So, Richard asked if I wanted to join him at Hooters. I declined; telling him that I was way too tired, and reminded him that I still had an hour's drive home. He said I could crash at his place, but I decided that I really would rather go home, because I had some stuff to work on early the next day (and besides, with the fantasy that was creeping up in my head, I was going to need some relief – even if only provided by the porno theatre of my mind in the shower). Finally he relented, and as I was hanging up the phone, I heard a lady in the background calling him Richie… his nickname since we were kids. Sounded like "Richie" was going to be getting his tonight.

On the way home, I decided that for variety, I'd head east and drive down Miami Beach, and then cut back across town to get home. Yes, the drive would be longer, but at least I'd not fall asleep at the wheel driving through the city versus driving a 25 mile straight, level path. As I was driving down I-95, just north of the Miami Beach exits, my phone started to vibrate again. I looked at the number. It was a Miami number, but as before, I didn't recognize it.

"Michael Robertson," was the automatic response.

"Lauren Stevens," it was her. Yes, I didn't know the name. But I knew her voice. My jaw just about punched a hole in the seat from dropping so hard. An eternity passed.

"Hello?" she said again.

"Uh… hi…" came my not so quick answer.

"So, you can think fast on your feet when you're in front of me but when you're caught by surprise, you flounder."

"Well, after your boyfriend whisked you away, I hardly expected to hear from you again."

"He's passed out next to me. I'm not the least bit tired."

"I see. So, he doesn't know you're on the phone with me, huh?"

"If he does, he's plainly not showing the jealousy that he did earlier. We took care of the jealousy part as soon as we got back here. I let him have his way with me. I suspect he's sound asleep. Let's just say - he's drained."

"Sounds intriguing."

"It was, but that still doesn't cure the fact that I'm not tired, and I am quite bored, and before I forget, I am sorry about the way he acted."

"What would you like to do to cure your boredom?"

"Meet me on the boardwalk, behind the Fontainbleau Hilton in 15 minutes."

"I don't know if I can make it." I waited a bit for a response.

No answer. I glanced at my cell phone. The call had ended ten seconds previous. I didn't even hear her hang up.

Amazing, it is, what a beautiful woman will make you do. This one had a newly determined penchant of making me press the accelerator all the way to the floor. I got to the Eden Roc (where I normally park to go to the beach in that area, if I happen to go) in five minutes. It took me another five to walk to the Fontainbleau (which, if you think about it is quite incredible, since the hotels are right next to each other).

She was leaning over the boardwalk railing, marveling at the white on the water, the full moon casting its glow out over the visible ocean. From this far up you couldn't hear the water… as it was very calm, but you could see a couple of people walking the sand.

"Hello." I said to her as I walked up.

"Hi, Michael." She turned and gave that half smile.

She was dressed in what looked like a silk tank top, and a wraparound skirt in a yet-to-be-determined material, although it reflected the moonlight around her curves quite nicely. She had changed since the game. No longer the Panther fan, she was clearly out to have some fun. While her figure was somewhat diminutive, it was obvious at a quick glance that she was out on the boardwalk sans at least one undergarment. A breeze had just come in across the water and it was a bit cool.

"It's a beautiful morning," it was 12:30 a.m. Yes, dark, but still morning, nonetheless.

"Hmmm. I don't know about that, yet."

"You called, I came. That's a start, anyway."

"Yes, Michael, it is. But do you know what I want to start?"

"No, I can't say that I do. But with a beautiful woman like you walking with me down the boardwalk, there isn't much that I would mind."

"I figured. That's why I called you. I'm in town for two weeks on business. My boyfriend leaves tomorrow to fly back home to go back to work. I expect I'll have more excitement after he leaves than while he is here. You drink Guinness, you have a beautiful smile, and you can think fast on your feet, which means that you are smart. I also noticed that you were funny. I can think of a lot of things to do with you while I'm here," as she eyed me up and down. The wink.

"So. You're here on business, your boyfriend, who looks like he could pummel me into the sand, is lying up in your hotel room. You're walking with my on the boardwalk. And you're telling me that you want me to show you a good time while you are here. On business."

"See? I told you you were quick on your feet." The smile.

"Well, to be quite honest, I am quite attracted to you."

"In the bar. I know. I caught your eye. Just so you know, you caught mine, too. I like your physique. I like your eyes. Your hair." The eyes. So deep.

We talked small talk for what seemed like a few minutes. I looked at my watch. It was 1:30. We'd been there an hour. Walking the beach, avoiding the riffraff that tend to hang out on the boardwalk. I found out that she's a graphic artist from Milwaukee, down for a convention in Fort Lauderdale, but wanting to stay closer to the arts center known here as Lincoln Road. She found out that I'm a systems engineer for a small firm in Miami that assist companies in leveraging their technology to further the goals of their enterprise. At least that's the company line.

We found ourselves at the Sheraton Four Points. Another resort, although not as grandiose as the Fontainbleau. My company has a business account with Sheraton, though not at this hotel. I figured I could get a room at a decent rate. I sure as heck wasn't going to be driving home, tired as I was.

"Do you mind if we stop in here?" I asked.

"What for? I have a room back at the other place, and you live here."

"Well, I'm not too comfortable sleeping in the same room as your boyfriend, and I need a place to crash tonight, so that I don't crash on the way home."

"That's pretty forward of you, thinking that I'll come in with you to your hotel room, don't you think?"

"No. I wasn't thinking you'd join me in my room. All I want to do is get my room, a room key, and perhaps a drink. Then I will walk you back down to your hotel and drive back here."

"I don't think so."

She led the way into the hotel. And I followed her up to the counter.

"My boyfriend and I would like a room."

The clerk, with a raised eyebrow as I said "uh," looked at his clock.

"Name?" he asked.

"Stevens." Her response.

"Smoking or non?" the clerk asked.

She turned and looked at me over her shoulder. "Smoking." She said.

I was a bit devastated when she said this. I'd never kissed a smoker. Never been intimate with a smoker. Didn't know she was a smoker. But, she's leading. I'm following.

She put the room on her American Express, took the key, and grabbed my hand gently.

"Come on. Let me show you to your room."

For some reason, the clerk had given us the penthouse overlooking the ocean. We opened the drapes on the floor-to-ceiling windows and opened the doors out onto the balcony. The breeze was beautiful. We didn't turn on the lights because we didn't need them. The moonlight was amazing. It cast a marble glow about everything in the room. She was a statue standing in the patio doorway.

I walked up behind her and stood right there. I'm sure she could feel my presence, even though we weren't touching. Without warning, she leaned back into me. To steady myself, I had to wrap my arms around her and brace her to the ground. Her hands came up and encircled my neck as she turned her head to the side and up to look at me. Our lips met and tentatively touched.

My fingers were brushing lightly against her belly as our lips touched each other with feathery softness. The shirt she was wearing was definitely silk. I slowly let my arm drop down the front of her, being careful to stay away from any of the more intimate spots. My fingers grazed the front of her thigh. Her skirt was also silk. She was a silken beauty.

Our lips were still lightly stroking each other's. Our breathing was quickening. I slowly brought my right hand, fingertips only, up her right side, following the soft curves that yielded to my light pressure through her silky clothing, up to her right hand. I took her hand in mine and we locked fingers. My tongue attempted gently to split her lips in twain, but she yielded not. Knowing an erogenous zone common to most, I slowly slid my lips down her cheek and brushed that oh-so-sensitive area right below the earlobe. Gently I sucked and lightly licked. She gasped as my fingers began to lightly stroke her belly.

She abruptly turned to face me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She began to kiss me furtively. Our lips locked in a hot embrace. My arms found themselves encircling her small waist. Our tongues, rapier-like, were engaged in their own battle. My fingers danced lightly across her derrière.

Her arms around my neck continued getting heavier and heavier. My hands continued their dance on her buns, but I was slowly beginning to form my hands to her. We kissed deeply for what seemed like an eternity. Our tongues exploring each other's mouths, and our lips gently caressing. I pulled her to me, firmly grasping her ass with my hands. A moan escaped her lips, as she breathed into me.

My growing tumescence was making it apparent to her that I found her more than quite attractive. As we continued our embrace, I felt her start to pull away. My hands gently rubbed her ass as she pulled back. She was not wearing panties. Or if she was, she was wearing a thong. I did not know. And while I clearly wanted this to continue, I didn't harbor expectations of how far it would go, for I wanted to enjoy the moment.

We gazed into each other's eyes. Slowly, she started to remove her silk shirt. As she lifted it above her head, my fingertips were drawn like magnets to her belly. She was firm, but still soft and smooth. My fingers danced across her skin as our eyes spoke. Her hands then went to my shirt. Unfastening it one button at a time, slowly, sensuously. I became excited just by watching her fingers work their magic of opening my shirt. As she continued, I ran my fingertips lightly about her waist and then slowly ran them up her back. As I was doing this, she moaned and breathed into my chest as her lips kissed me gently, her hands slowly sliding the shirt down my arms.

We embraced as my hands unhurriedly descended to her skirt. I was fumbling with her skirt when she pulled away and said, breathlessly, but emphatically, "No. While I want to please you, I must lead; otherwise, I'm afraid this won't work." She returned by gently sucking on my left nipple, her hands slowly finding their way behind me firmly gripping my ass, pulling me closer to her, our clothing clearly becoming a hindrance, rather than a protection of our modesty.

Her bright green eyes stared up at me, dark in color because of the lack of ambient light. She pecked my lips lightly as she went to walk around me, grasping my arm as she went past. Pulling me with her to the bathroom. We walked in, and, much to both of our surprise, we found that the Sheraton had outfitted the room with a Jacuzzi. She began filling the tub with hot water, as I sat on the divan that was in the dressing area. She opened the minibar, and pulled out a bottle of champagne that happened to be there. As I stood, she passed the bottle to me, and then she turned and reached into the minibar for the corkscrew that was there. I admired her form. The skirt was this lilac colored, form fitting, wraparound number. The material felt good to my skin as I gently caressed her.

She closed the minibar as she stood back up. She didn't order me to stop my ministrations so I stood there with my hands caressing her, alternating between her ass and her hips. She obviously enjoyed the attention I was bestowing upon her. She passed the corkscrew over her shoulder as she turned and looked up at me, "I'm going to get in the tub. Bring us both a glass of champagne, and come on in."

Well, I fumbled with the champagne, nearly spilling it as I popped the cork. I took the two plastic "glasses" and filled each with an appropriate amount. Then I walked into the bathroom. As she had said she would, she had gotten into the tub, her skirt now a nine-foot by four-foot rectangle draped over the towel rack. She was up to her neck in bubbles, the room steamy with more than just our body heat.