Meet Market Ch 01

I catch your eye while fingering the peonies, give you a little smile, and move on. At the heirloom tomatoes, I am torn between a purple and golden, or an olive and orange. Both equally repugnant to look at and assumed delectable to bite into. I opt for both; grab some watercress, carrots, a zucchini, and a couple of cucumbers. I sense you following me, but it isn't off-putting, surprisingly. At the herb stand you ask, "do you know what this?"

"Looks like a basil variety. Here.." I gently bruise the leaves between my finger tips and offer them to you to smell. You lean in and inhale the bright fragrance, not taking your eyes off mine. "Delicious."

I retract my hand and inhale the aroma for myself, "oh that is actually quite nice, you can smell the anise from the rich soil." You cock your eyebrow at the word 'anise' ....boys. I garb a few bunches, "this will make delicious pesto. Can you hand me some of that spinach behind you?" You turn and I take my opportunity to check you out fully. ...nice.

"So you cook," half question, half statement, as you hand me the spinach.

"I do. Do you?"

"Not really, I'm just here to pick up hot chicks."

"Ahh."

"I'm kidding," sensing you are loosing my attention quickly. "My kid is in the community band. They are playing this morning."

"Oh...that's sweet."

"And I really wanted to talk to you." Bold, I like it. We continue our small talk and agree to meet for drinks later.

Post-shower, I dab a few drops of perfume behind my ears and wrists. I slip on a sundress, grabbing a light cardigan, since the evenings can still be cool. I slip on my new slingback sandals and head out.

The bar is crowded, typical for a college town. I find you at the bar. Your smile is warm...I feel tingles. We sip and chat, your hand on my back, leaning in to hear me over the noise. "Let's go outside," you suggest, "I can't hear for shit in here."

We head out to the back patio. "Better," I say, my ears still ringing a little.

"I'd really like to kiss you. I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you with the tulips this morning."

"It that a euphemism?"

You smile, "Maybe." I lean in and kiss you and you reciprocate. You're a good kisser, thank god. We continue our make-out session. I break away, "I want to keep doing this, but can we go somewhere that smells less like stale beer and lost dreams?" You are visibly piqued.

Your place is nearby...it's actually upstairs? "Wait? What?" ..."I probably should have mentioned, I own the bar. It's just convenient to live upstairs." Smooth. I follow you up the two flights to a large converted space. Clearly it's former life was industrial of some variety. The high ceilings, exposed brick, and beams give the space interest and character, not often seen in these small towns. It's tidy, well furnished - a woman's touch perhaps. "Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna grab us something to drink."

I wander over to the row of windows facing the town square, trees lit with twinkle lights the City put up at Christmas and haven't taken down despite the late spring month. "Here,"handing me a cold beer, "whatcha looking at."

"Oh, where we first met, I want to capture it in my memory so we can tell our grandkids one day."

You sip and look at me over the bottle. "I'm fucking with you. ...clearly the town will have developed the space and trees will be long gone by then." ...beat. "Yep, still fucking with ya."

You take my beer and set the bottles out of the way. You then lean in, kissing my neck, your hand on the small of my back, then caressing my ass. "Mmmmm, that's nice." You smack my ass, not hard, but enough to startle me. I return the favor. Soon we are play fighting and kissing and laughing like horny teenagers.

You stop and look at me. Really look at me. I feel naked, despite being fully-clothed. My stomach tightens and there is a twitch between my legs. I press myself against you wrapping my arms around your shoulders and kiss you deeply. You return the favor, wrapping your arms around my waist. I then find myself being lifted slightly and walked backwards.

The bed against my calves stops me. You whisper "Too fast?"

"A little...but I am really enjoying you."

"Me too...Are you hungry?"

"A little." You take my hand and lead me to the kitchen. "I thought you didn't cook?"

"I lied. I just wanted to meet you," smiling at me. "I inherited the bar from my Uncle. I only agreed to take it over because I was done working in other people's kitchens and wanted my own. Plus we used to visit when I was a kid so there was an element of nostalgia. And as an adult I quickly realized so much here is geared towards the college kids, a.k.a. mass-produced shit, I thought the grown-ups in town would appreciate decent food."

I sit kinda dumb-struck. "Are you real?"

You laugh, a genuine laugh. Which is an incredible turn-on.

You begin your kitchen magic show, pulling out containers from the fridge, typical of restaurant prep. "Here," you hand me a bottle of wine and opener, "glasses are by the stereo. Oh and turn on some music." ...I oblige.

I grab some glasses and flip the stereo on. Al Green, Let's Stay Together starts playing. "Really? Were you planning on getting lucky tonight?"

You laugh again, "Just wait."

I rejoin you in the kitchen. Pouring us some wine. The pans are hot and the smells intoxicating. Garlic and butter are clearly the way to my g-spot. "So what are you going to feed me?"

"Not sure...I had some lobster and veg and pasta...so...that."

"Smells great." The track changes, Bustin' Surfboards by The Tornadoes. I slap your shoulder, "It's the Pulp Fiction soundtrack."

"I told you to wait."

Our tume tigether is lovely. The food, delicious; the music, great; the conversation, delightful. The evening is winding down. I offer to clean your kitchen, "nah, I got it."

"I can't in good-conscience leave it. Sorry." I hop up and take our plates and begin to at least rinse off the remains of our meal. The water is warm and sudsy, James Taylor is crooning something. You join me in the kitchen. Coming up behind me, you are warm and your weight lightly against me is calming. You move my hair and gently kiss my neck. I smile.

"Thank you. for cleaning my dishes."

"My pleasure. That meal was amazing."

"Thank you for saying yes. For taking a chance on the creeper at the market."

I turn and face you. "Not so creepy." I bop your nose, leaving a bit of suds. You smile.

I wipe away the bubbles, "I really enjoyed our evening, can we call it chapter one of our story?"

"Are you saying there will be a chapter two?"

"Yes, and I'll cook...I may even serve dessert."

"Is that a euphemism?"

"Maybe." I kiss you on the cheek.

"Then I look forward to it." You step back offering me to exit your embrace.

I gather my things and take me leave with a good night kiss and plans to see you for dinner on Tuesday. The evening temps have dropped and I'm glad I grabbed my sweater. As I walk through the square on my way home, I look back and see you standing in the window, watching me. You wave.

I can't wait to write our next chapter.