The fourth installment of my journey with Diane - my muse - as appropriately suggested by a reader. As before, you will have better context if you read the previous stories, but hopefully this one stands on its own if you don't. Hope you enjoy it!
The text message from Diane two days after the encounter with Mike and Jordan was short and succinct.
'Do you have time for me this Friday night?' Time for Diane? If I didn't, I would make time but as it so happened I was free.
'I always have time for you. What do you have in mind?'
'How about dinner at my place? Yes, I cook! Followed by an evening together?'
That sounded fantastic to me. Our brief moments together had been limited to work settings, and unusual circumstances. This would be the first 'normal' time we would have. I did wonder how an entire evening would go; so far the brief interludes were mostly about sex. Not that I could complain about that - the sex had been torrid (that was a perfect word for it), inflamed by a mutual attraction that went well beyond anything I had ever felt before.
OK, time to focus on texting back! 'That sounds perfect. Assuming you like wine, what kind should I bring?'
'Red wine girl here - that will go well with dinner. 7 PM OK?'
'Absolutely! I'm already looking forward to the evening.'
It had been several days since Diane's encounter with Mike and Jordan. I had checked on her a few times and she told me that any soreness had faded quickly, though she admitted to sitting on a cushion the day after the incident. That made me feel better on several levels - first, that I hadn't allowed her to experience lasting harm and second, that there were no lingering injuries to affect our evening together. The opportunity to finally be with Diane in an intimate setting was extremely exciting. I felt a bit like a 14-year-old anticipating his first date! Our time together so far had been relatively public and the office was certainly less than ideal for what I fantasized about when contemplating being with her.
The next day dragged on, an unavoidable barrier to Friday night. Luckily, I was busy enough that I couldn't obsess about the upcoming evening. Friday was another matter; I couldn't concentrate over my anticipation. 'You're a grown man,' I told myself. 'Relax!'
I saw Diane several times during the day; each time my heart sped up and my nerves went on edge. She was wearing a simple outfit - our office went casual on Fridays. She had on flat brown shoes, white slacks and a loose blue pullover top. On one occasion she walked by the glass walls of a conference room while I was in a meeting. She smiled and winked as she went by, quickening my heart rate and totally distracting me. I'm sure I would have been more relaxed if our relationship were better established, but as we were in the early days everything made my stomach lurch with apprehension.
I got a text from her at the end of the day, which on Fridays was an early 4PM to allow people a quick getaway for their weekend.
"Headed home to get dinner ready! See you in a few hours."
I sent back, 'See you then, can't wait.' I already had the address loaded into my phone navigation, redundant since I was quite sure I knew where it was.
It took me another 30 minutes to wrap things up and head back to my place to shower and change into fresh clothes. I dressed in what would be considered 'smart casual' clothes: Navy blue slacks, a white shirt with blue pinstripes and my black loafers. I picked out one of the better bottles of wine that I had, then thought about it and grabbed a second. You never know, I thought. Then I had an hour to kill before I headed over to Diane's with not much to do. I sure couldn't do anything that required focus because that wasn't in the cards right now. I settled on doing various mindless chores around the place - ironed a few shirts, tossed laundry into the washer, etc. - but stopped short of organizing my sock drawer. I waited until the exact minute when I thought I would be on time but not early and then headed out.
The drive to Diane's condo took about 15 minutes but felt like two hours. There was a little tightness in my chest - anxiety? What was I worried about?! Get a grip!
Diane's condo was the second unit in a building that consisted of a cluster of four condos. Each had a one-car garage in front with a short driveway; there was a parking lot as well for other cars. I parked, checked the time - two minutes after seven - and hoping I wasn't expected to be fashionably late went up the walkway to the front door. I rang the doorbell and within seconds heard the hurried click of heels coming toward the door. As the door swung in Diane greeted me with a nervous smile.
"You found it! Come in!"
Diane was wearing an apron over what appeared to be a black cocktail dress, with high heels and black hose matching the dress. Her hair was done up in a bun and she had clearly applied more makeup than she wore at work. As she let me enter, I noticed that the apron had a picture of a French chef on it with the script "Kiss the cook!" above the caricature of the chef.
"Always happy to oblige," I said, nodding at the script as I moved close to her and kissed her. She moved against me and deepened the kiss for a few seconds but then broke away.
"I totally forgot about that," she said with a little laugh. "Dinner is almost ready, but it needs my attention, otherwise the cook would want more kisses. But then we might not ever get to dinner! Why don't you open the wine while I tend to things?" She nodded toward the kitchen where the table was set. A wine opener was there for me to use.
The first floor of Diane's condo consisted of a small entryway and closet, opening onto a good-sized living room with a fireplace set diagonally in the far corner. It was furnished in modern furniture with a gray-blue fabric, which blended nicely with the pale blue paint on the walls. The room was decorated tastefully, at least by my bachelor standards. The living room opened onto a kitchen at the far end; I could see the kitchen table and a sliding door that led onto a small deck outside. Walking to the table revealed the rest of the kitchen, where Diane was working on several things at once.
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Opening the wine is the priority, Lord knows I could use alcohol after this week," she answered.
"It has been eventful," I agreed. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, no more aches and the bruises are gone," Diane answered as she bustled around the kitchen. She was slicing a loaf of French bread and buttering the slices with a butter/garlic mixture. Whatever was in the oven smelled delicious and had an Italian aroma, so I guessed garlic bread to go with that. I could see that there was a large bowl on the counter with a salad in it ready to serve. Finished opening the wine I poured it into the two glasses set on the table. I took one of the glasses over to where Diane was working at the counter and set it down next to her.
"Your wine, m'lady," I said jokingly.
"Thank you, kind sir," she answered quickly. "Almost done here."
Taking advantage of her focus on the bread I slipped behind her and put my hands on her waist. Leaning forward I lightly kissed the nape of her neck.
"Mmmm," she purred, leaning back into me. "Nice, but you're very brave, taking liberties with a woman when she has a knife in her hands."
"Just shows you what dangers I'm willing to risk for you," I answered, kissing her neck again.
"Dinner first, danger later," she replied, slipping away from me. "I've put too much effort into this meal to have it ruined by distractions, no matter how tempting they might be."
"It certainly smells very good," I told her. "If it tastes half as good as it smells, it will be fantastic. A great meal, a very nice condo that's been decorated impeccably - who knew there was this domestic side of you?"
"Ha, ha - just don't tell anyone at work," she told me. "It would ruin my image."
We both smiled at this; Diane's image at work was hardly that of a sweet little housekeeper. She was considered a smart but challenging person, strong-willed and stubborn. I frankly had never considered what she might be like in a home setting - so much to learn.
She was now at the oven, removing what looked like a beautifully golden lasagna and putting it on the stovetop. She reset the oven to broil and, pointing to the aluminum sheet with the garlic bread on it gave me my next assignment.
"I'm going to freshen up while the lasagna sets up a little," she said as she walked out of the kitchen. "Pop that in the oven to brown it but watch it carefully; don't let it burn!"
With that she was out of the room and headed up the stairs to the second floor, where I presumed her bedroom was. I put the tray of garlic bread into the oven to broil - briefly! - and waited for it to brown. I could hear the faint sounds of footsteps above me as Diane freshened up and wondered what the evening would bring. It looked like we would have an incredibly good meal in any case, and hopefully much more. I opened the oven door and looked at the garlic bread; it was almost done, another minute more at most. I was taking it out as I heard Diane coming down the steps. My back was to her as she entered the kitchen. Putting the baking sheet on the stovetop I turned to see her standing in the entryway to the kitchen. The apron was gone, giving me a full view of a classic black cocktail dress, scooped low at the neckline to reveal the swell of her upper breasts and lovely cleavage. The dress fit her nicely at the waist, flowed over her hips and ended about two inches above her knees. She had on the same black stockings and high heels as before. The only other change was that she had let her hair down and curled it slightly. The darkness of her hair went beautifully with the black outfit and her fair skin.
"Wow," I said in reaction as she struck a pose. "You look fantastic - I feel very under-dressed."
Diane walked over to me and gave me a quick kiss. "You're fine," she told me. "I just felt like getting dressed up for you on our first official date. But don't get spoiled, this is as good as it gets," she said with a smile.
"I don't know how it could get better," I answered. As I said that, my mind went to a scene where she had considerably less clothes on, but I was smart enough to compliment her now. And she deserved it - she looked absolutely beautiful.
