One Down, One to Go

His apartment was not only very tastefully decorated, he had an entire decorative wall of wedding photos he'd taken over the last three years since starting his own business.

Brooklyn gravitated toward it immediately and was awed by the quality.

"These are amazing, Serge!" she told him as she looked.

The couples were young, old, and everywhere in between.

"That couple was in their 90s when they got married," he said pointing to the oldest.

"And this one," he said pointing to the youngest couple, "was just 18 and right out of high school. They'd been best friends since Kindergarten and sweethearts since junior high."

"Who's this?" she asked pointing to one that had a Russian Orthodox priest officiating.

"Ah, that's my brother, Max, and his wife, Elena," he told her. "The had a traditional Russian wedding which our parents loved."

"So...do you speak Russian?" he asked.

"Да, безусловно," he replied with a smile.

"Which means?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"So your whole family does, too, of course," she assumed correctly.

"They do. But Max and I, or more specifically just me, refuse to speak it unless we're talking with our parents, and even then we mostly speak English. It's not that we're ashamed of our heritage. It's just that we're Americans through and through and we love our country and its language."

"You're even more interesting and enigmatic than I thought," Brooklyn told him with a smile.

"And you're even more beautiful than I remembered," he told her without a smile.

Her first instinct was to play off the compliment and say something snarky. But she was touched by it and simply said, "Thank you."

"What can I get you to drink?" he asked.

"Why do I feel like I should say 'vodka'?" she asked, smiling happily.

"Good choice!" he said.

She followed him to the kitchen and saw him reach into the freezer then produce a bottle of Ketel One.

"You keep it in the freezer?" she asked having never seen anyone do that.

"Oh, yes. All good Russians—and Russian-Americans—keep their vodka in the freezer," he informed her.

As he poured, he said, "See how thick it is?"

It looked closer to syrup than booze and the reason why he kept it so cold was now clear.

As they touched glasses, Brooklyn said, "Na strove-uh!"

Serge winced so Brooklyn said, "Was it that bad?"

He smiled at her and said, "Stick to selling wedding dresses, okay?"

"Ouch!" she said.

"Your Russian is terrible, but you're still just as beautiful," he told her with eyes that said he meant it.

"I'm just going to have to trust you that you really mean that," she said as she raised her glass.

Serge reached out and said, "Hold on. If you make a toast, the first drink—and the last—have to be—надно."

It sounded like nad-NO-uh so Brooklyn asked for the translation.

"To the bottom," he explained. "One gulp or oдним залпом."

"Oh, wow. Well, if that's tradition, who am I to do otherwise, right?" she said as she raised her glass again.

"На здоровье!" Serge said pronouncing 'cheers' correctly.

"If you say so!" Brooklyn said before downing the shot in one gulp.

She shook it off gasping for breath.

"Wow! That was strong!" she said.

Serge smiled and said, "Oh, so you are Amer-ee-kan lightweight," in his Russian accent.

"Lightweight? Hah! Hit me again. I'll show you lightweight!" she said with a smile.

Serge poured one more for both of them, and Brooklyn wanted to say something else in Russian but realized she only knew the words for 'yes', 'no', and 'thank you'.

"Spa-cee-bow!" she said trying to say 'thank you' but only drawing another chuckle from Serge.

"What? I know that's right. Thank you is spa-cee-bow."

She waited for a second as the first shot 'crawled' up her neck then asked, "Isn't it?"

"Not quite, but it's close enough for government work," he told her. "It doesn't rhyme with gazebo, but other than that you pretty much got it right."

"Oh, the hell with it!" she said as she tossed back a second drink. "Oh, wow!" she said as her body shook again.

Serge downed his, too, then said, "I think we should put this away before we get in trouble."

Without waiting for her response he capped the bottle and stuck it back in the freezer.

"Спокойной ночи," he said to the bottle telling it 'goodnight' which, literally translated means 'calm night' but is the way everyone says goodnight in Russian.

When he turned around Brooklyn said, "Oh, my. I can really feel that already."

"Gee, I wonder why," he teased. "That's like draining two glasses of wine in under a minute."

"Why don't we go sit down so we can talk?" he suggested.

Brooklyn went to stand up in her four-inch heels and immediately tilted to the side causing Serge to instinctively reach out and grab her.

"You okay?" he asked, his hands on her waist.

"I think so," she told him as he looked into her eyes. "I...I didn't plan that, you know."

"I didn't think you did," he told her.

"But...now that it happened...."

Her eyes told him what her lips weren't saying and more importantly, didn't need to be said. Serge lowered his head slightly as she was almost as tall as him in her heels and kissed her softly for several seconds. This time she kissed him back immediately and found herself not wanting it to end.

"Come on. As much as I like kissing you, I really do want to get to know you," he told her as he released her then reached for her hand.

"Just my luck. A true gentleman," she said knowing the alcohol was providing the courage to say something she'd never otherwise say.

He led her to a very nice-looking teal-blue love seat and helped her sit then sat across from her in a taupe-colored leather chair.

He saw the look she gave him so he told her, "We've both had a couple of drinks, and because you really are that beautiful to me, this is much safer."

Brooklyn smiled then told him, "I'm sure I'll be very grateful...in the morning."

Serge laughed then said, "Tell me about yourself, Brooklyn Maxwell."

"What would you like to know?" she asked.

"Oh, just...everything," he replied.

It was a little after 2am when both of them realized they were 'out of gas' and Brooklyn, now stone-cold sober, told him, "I've had the most wonderful time, Serge. This was really nice. Oh, and since it's now morning, I am very grateful. Thank you for being such a gentleman."

He walked her to the door then insisted on walking her to his car, but as they walked outside he said, "It was easy being a gentleman with such a lovely lady."

Brooklyn laughed then said, "If I haven't scared you off yet, would you maybe like to do this again sometime?"

Serge opened her car door then said, "I would like that very much."

She turned to give him a goodnight hug when he said, "And would you mind if I kissed you again?"

That 'feeling' washed over her again before she said, "I'd mind if you didn't," just before his lips met hers.

It wasn't a long kiss, but if was by far the most passionate and Brooklyn's body tingled again when the tip of her tongue briefly met his.

"Well, goodnight, Serge," she said sweetly.

"Спокойной ночи, красавица," he told her as he gently touched her cheek with his hand.

"Which means?" she asked just as sweetly.

"Goodnight, beautiful," he told her before kissing her one last time.

He waited until she drove off then headed back inside. The difference between the way she made him feel compared to how he'd felt with Chloe was night and day. In fact, he was very aware no woman had ever made him feel the way he was feeling as he went back into his apartment.

He stopped at the 'wedding wall' and smiled as he imagined one more happy couple's photo hanging there alongside the others before going to bed.

Brooklyn woke up the following morning pleased not to have any kind of hangover. As she lay there in bed trying to wake up she fondly recalled the events of the night before. Her beautiful daughter was now a married woman, and she'd had the best time she could remember in well over two years.

She smiled when she thought about the way they'd laughed and drank and yes, the way he'd kissed her. She knew it was silly to think about getting serious with someone that young or that handsome, but she decided to allow herself to enjoy the memories. In fact, she was reliving them as she lay there and enjoying them so much, she reached for the tiny little vibrator in the top drawer of her night stand and continued enjoying them.

She was already very wet and very 'close' by the time she turned it on. It didn't take much time at all for 'Mr. Buzzy', as she called it, to send her into ecstasy as she imagined his handsome face on top of her as he entered her.

Still breathing hard a minute later, she was finally ready to get up, shower, and start her day. When she realized she was doing so with a smile on her face, she laughed out loud feeling happy and carefree and hoping there might be another night like the one she'd just had in her near term future.

Serge had a standing invitation to join Max and Elena for Sunday dinner and he sat there around noon looking at his phone for over an hour before finally deciding to give her a call.

"Serge? Hi! How are you?" Brooklyn asked happily when she saw his name on her phone.

"Good," he told her. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

As soon as he said it he realized how ridiculous that was. Brooklyn was a grown woman with an adult child who was fully capable of getting herself home. He was relieved when she didn't mention it.

"I am, thank you for asking," she told him.

"Listen, I almost always hang out with my brother and sister-in-law on Sunday afternoons. You know, dinner and maybe a ball game. I was wondering if you might want to, you know, hang out with me?"

"I'd love to, but are you sure they won't mind?" she asked hoping he'd already asked.

"I can promise you they won't. In fact, both of them will be so happy to see me with anyone but Chloe they may try and make you an honorary member of the family on the spot."

"That doesn't sound too terrible," she said sweetly.

"I should warn you Max has been bugging me to go out with you, so...."

"Wait a minute! Your brother has been trying to get you to go out with me?" she asked.

"Yeah. I've kind of talked about you. A lot," he confessed.

"Oh, I see," she said. "And they know I'm not exactly the same age as you?"

"Well, they know you look about the same age as me," he said hoping that was good enough.

"Oh, that was smooth, Serge," she said in way that he could tell she smiling. "Very smooth."

"What can I say? I'm a...smooth operator," he told her singing it to the tune of the song by Sade.

"And he sings," she said. "Um...okay. Sure. I'd enjoy that. I mean, with Kristi on her honeymoon, what else do I have to do, right?"

He loved her light, easy-going manner.

He laughed then said, "It's good to know I'm your best alternative to sitting home alone watching the Lifetime Movie Network."

"You're my only alternative, Serge," she told him with a laugh of her own. "What time should I be ready?"

"They eat early on Sundays around 5pm so if I could pick you up around four that should work."

"Okay. I'll see you then," she said unable to stop smiling.

"Bye, beautiful," he told her just before he hung up.

Serge only knew of one flower shop that was open on Sundays in the entire city of Seattle so headed there on his way to pick up Brooklyn.

"White chrysanthemums? Nice choice, Serge" the woman who sold them to him said.

He'd been in there several times to buy flowers for Chloe who'd never really appreciated the effort let alone been impressed.

"I saw her looking at them at her daughter's wedding several times so I'm hoping they're one of her favorites."

"Wait a minute. Chloe doesn't have a daughter let alone one old enough to get married," she said as she prepared the bouquet.

"Oh, right. Well, Chloe and I have kind of parted ways," he informed her.

"Would it be too inappropriate if I were to say, 'Thank God'?"

Serge laughed then told her, "I guess I was the only person who couldn't see how wrong we were for each other."

"If I may," she said. "You were perfect for her, she was just completely wrong for you."

"So I've been told," he admitted.

"Had I known you date women with adult children, I'd have let you know I'm interested and available," she said with a smile.

The woman whose name he'd never known looked to around 50, and she wasn't what he'd call attractive let alone beautiful. She was a very nice woman and had always been good to him, but Serge knew that attraction, while superficial, is essential to any relationship.

"If this fizzles out, who knows, right? he said in his charming way.

She handed him the bouquet and said, "I'm a realist, Serge. I couldn't date you in my wildest dreams, and believe me, I'd had some pretty wild dreams about you," she said directly and without embarrassment. "Oh, and that'll be $39.95 plus tax."

Serge handed her $50 and told her to keep the change. He smiled then told her, "Don't stop dreaming."

"Oh, I won't," she said smiling back. "Good luck, Serge!"

Before getting out of the car, Serge took one last look at his hair. Satisfied it hadn't gone anywhere, he grabbed the bouquet and went to knock on Brooklyn's door. He was wearing a very dark-blue, button-down shirt with a pair of khaki-colored Dockers hoping Brooklyn would like the look or at least notice.

When she opened the door he forgot all about himself as he stood there staring at her.

"Are you going to come in or just stand there like a statue?" she said with a beautiful smile.

"Um, wow. I...I don't know what to say other than...wow," he said as he admired how beautiful she looked.

He stepped inside then remembered the flowers and told her, "Oh...these are for you."

"White chrysanthemums! Oh, my goodness. Serge, these are my favorite flowers. How did you know?"

She was inhaling the wonderful scent and admiring the bouquet in the way he'd always hoped Chloe would who typically said something like, "Oh, thanks," before setting them down without a second thought.

Before he could reply, she put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.

"They're beautiful. Thank you, Serge."

He told her he'd seen her looking at them at Kristi's wedding and that impressed her, too.

"I had no idea you were even watching," she told him as she got out a vase and began cutting the stems.

"Oh, I tend to watch everything you do whenever you're around," he confessed.

She looked up at him and he quickly added, "But only when you're around. I'm not stalking you or anything."

"I believe you're still staring at me," she said with a happy smile.

"Oh, sorry. Guilty as charged," he told her. "But you can't blame me. I mean, just look at you. Did I say 'wow' yet?"

"You may have," she said as she set the vase out on a coffee table. "You look very nice, too, by the way."

Her hair was as beautiful and silky-looking as it had been for the wedding and her makeup had been done just as carefully, too. Between that and her amazing smile, Brooklyn really did look to be in her early 30s rather than her early-to-mid 40s.

Serge wasn't going to share this just yet, but he'd always been a 'boob' man while his brother, Max, was an 'ass' kind of guy.

Serge often told him, "That's because you're an ass," which was now an inside joke.

The soft-but-fitting, slightly cropped, light-pink sweater Brooklyn was wearing showed off two soft, gorgeous mounds that looked to be a C cup, the perfect size in his lustful mind. He knew Max would notice the tight, round tush her high-waisted black pants were highlighting. All in all it was a very young look and she pulled it off with ease.

But beyond her...looks...Serge loved her personality. Once there was at least an acceptable level of attraction to get him into a relationship, it was things like personality, character traits, and beliefs that held him.

The only exception he'd ever made, and still inexplicably so, had been for Chloe who was incredibly good looking, and who'd initially wowed him to the point where he must have gone temporarily insane to the point that he turned a blind eye to the huge gaping holes created by her lack of any real moral values.

'Never again' was his new motto, and where Brooklyn Maxwell was concerned, that wouldn't be an issue.

Any concerns Brooklyn had about being accepted by Max and Elena melted away as soon as she met them.

"Oh, my goodness! She's even more beautiful than you told us, Serge!" Max said as he gave Brooklyn a welcome hug.

Elena then said in a clearly joking way, "And I already hate you because you really do look younger than me and you're prettier than I am!"

The two women also hugged and as they did Elena said, "We are so glad to meet you, Brooklyn. Serge talks about you non-stop. Now we know why."

"I'm not sure what to say to all that except, 'thank you', and there's no way I'm even as pretty as you," she said smiling back. "I'm very happy to meet both of you, too."

Brooklyn offered to help with dinner and after initially saying, "Oh, no. You relax and let me take care of everything," Elena was happy to let her set the table and pour the drinks, and told her how thankful she was for the help.

Serge and Max were in the living room leaving the two 'girls' alone as they got things ready.

"You know Serge really is crazy about you, right?" Elena told her as they worked together.

"Well, I'm kind of fond of him, too," she said. "I just can't help but worry about, you know, the difference in our ages."

Elena stopped for a moment then said, "I wasn't kidding, Brooklyn. If Serge hadn't told us you were...okay, he didn't tell us your age...but he did say you were old enough to have a daughter who was getting married...I swear I wouldn't know. I can promise you it doesn't matter to him, so I don't think it's something to be too concerned about."

"I guess I just worry about things like him possibly—or rather, likely—wanting children and what not."

She paused then said, "Sorry. That was silly of me to say. We're just getting to know each other and...."

"Serge does want children, but we've never seen him like this before, Brooklyn. He really, really likes you, okay?" she said seriously but politely.

Nothing more was said about the budding relationship as they ate and talked and laughed. By the time they got ready to leave, Brooklyn felt like she'd been friends with Max and Elena for years rather than hours.

Both of them were warm, caring people who'd made her feel very welcome. Max and Serge had assured her their parents would enjoy meeting her just as much and for the moment, anyway, her concerns all but disappeared.

When they returned to her place, Brooklyn invited Serge in and asked if he'd like a drink but also warning him, "Just don't expect vodka, okay?"

He laughed and told her anything she had would be fine so she poured them both a glass of red wine before they sat down to talk.

"Am I making too much out of the age thing?" she asked, her doubts returning.

"You are if you think it makes any difference to me," he told her. "Because it doesn't."

"I hope I'm not talking out of school, but Elena mentioned you want children. If that's true, then maybe I'm not the woman you want," she said soberly.

"Are children out of the question for you?" he asked in an interested way.

"Wow. I actually thought about having another child when I was engaged. But since then I don't think I'd ever thought about it even once."

She looked right at him then said, "At least not until you kissed me the first time."

"Then why don't we just get to know each other and see how things go rather than talk about hypotheticals that are down the road?"