The Romantic 2

Client sponsored networking happy hours are sport for competing vendors. I love the challenge. Josselyn Beckett Rose, "Rose" as I called her, because I found her beautiful and tender like the flower, was there working the room with her usual grace, shaking all the right hands, paying compliments, stroking egos and occasionally playing the role of the flirty yet vulnerable. I kept an eye on her from afar. Occasionally our eyes would catch and then avert. A subtle dance. Never relax over the competition, no matter how small or least threatening was my creed. Never, ever. You never know when the kitten morphs into the big cat. Always stay a step ahead, especially when you rule the roost.

I spotted her at the corner of the bar grabbing a drink talking to a guy I did not know. I made my way over and grabbed space next to her on the opposite side of the corner. She was talking and did not notice me sidle up. I stood waiting for the bartender to take my order. Rose broke off her conversation with the guy when the bar tender came to take her order. She ordered her usual and then I spoke up telling the bar tender, "classic gin martini."

Rose heard my voice, froze and looked down, maybe hoping I would go away. The guy kept talking to her.

I paused then leaned over, "Its been a while. How are you?"

"Ok," she said not looking up. The guy got the picture really quick and walked. She did not notice.

"Glad to hear that. Busy room tonight. Pick up any business?" I asked before drawing on the cold drink that was about to assuage my stress and lower my inhibitions.

"Maybe," she replied. I sensed her nervousness.

"You look good. I like that dress. It compliments you well," I offered hoping to draw her out.

"Thank you," she said.

"You don't need permission to address me," I replied.

"I know," she replied looking up and down the bar to see who was around.

"Don't worry. I don't bite and you can talk to the competition, they won't gossip to bad, besides, all the bigs are gone. Just the minions getting drunk now."

"Its not that... I thought you would be here but did not know if I could talk to you, even now, a year later...."

I drew a sip and considered her words.

"Miss me?" I asked referring to the April to June fling we had a year back, two competitors having a salacious affair, she being thirty one, a few years my senior, and a professional level above me.

She stood silent for a moment.

"Well?" I gently prodded.

She paused, looked around again and quietly said, "Maybe."

I leaned over, elbows on the bar so I could be lower to her ear so nobody could hear me but her, "Tell me, what do you miss? Is it my commanding voice? Sinking to your knees? Sitting at my side, my fingers fawning with your lovely fine hair? Maybe the way..."

"Stop it, not here," she whispered with insistence cutting me off mid-sentence.

"But Rose, its more fun having this conversation in public. Or, should we take it to a private place?"

"No and no," she quipped, "Now shush," she said before breaking into a smirk.

"The Rose I knew would have played along... Pity."

"And you?" she asked, "How have you been?"

"Fine, all is well, I guess, I have no real complaints... well maybe one."

"Oh?" she asked.

"I'll keep it to myself for now. Maybe I'll tell you later."

"Hmm... you're no fun," she commented.

"Sorry.... I like those shoes," I said changing the conversation, noticing her staid black patent leather high heels.

"I know, you bought them for me, remember?" she quipped.

"Oh yes, and I remember exactly why I did... obviously not being used for their intended purpose... Did you wear them knowing I'd be here? A not so subtle reminder?"

"Don't flatter yourself... I just wore them because they go well with the outfit," she demurred.

"They do, but I don't want to believe you... the woman with a closet full of shoes and she wears this pair on this night... no, not a believable explanation, Rose," I said before leaning closer to her ear, "My dear, we both know those shoes had one purpose and one purpose only... and you were so delicious wearing them while over my knee.... Do you miss those intimate moments?" I asked.

She looked down at the bar, thought for a moment, drew her drink, looked around and then murmured, "Maybe...."

"Well, I'm glad we got that out in the open... confession is pejorative.... I've got one too, Rose."

She looked up, hanging on my words. I moved closer to her ear so nobody could hear me, "Rose, I miss you... and its not physical.... I miss "you," Rose."

"Then why did you not call me?"

"Because you needed time and space. I knew you stopped seeing me because it was to much for you. Your judgment was clouded- days invaded by thoughts of me and what I would do to pleasure you.... new sex has that distracting effect. New experiences have that effect too. I had hoped you would call me when you were ready... I've been waiting, hoping all this time..."

Rose became pensive. I could tell by how she slowly ran her finger around the rim of the glass. A habit she had not lost.

"What do you say we get out of here? Its amateur hour now," I said noting the younger crowd at the other end of the bar doing shots.

"And go where?" she asked.

"Well you have two options. I can put you in a cab and send you home, or, we can take a walk in the park, a conversation between friends- its a perfect night, the cherry blossoms just bloomed."

"Let me think, I can go home to my empty apartment and look at the four walls or take a spring walk with a handsome man in a park. The later is a rather romantic offer," she noted, "promise no funny business?"

"Yes, promise, just a walk with a gentleman," replied.

"Then lets walk, I don't get offers like this one to often."

We stepped out into the night. The spring night engulfing out senses as we crossed the street to the public park entrance and wandered down the well lit path in silence until we were out of view from prying eyes. I extended my elbow, offering her to walk arm in arm.

"And your intentions, Sir?" she teasingly asked.

"Just a walk in the park with a friend and a conversation," I replied

She hooked her arm though mine and pulled close, "Shame," she said, looking up into my eyes, "I was never sure if you were capable of romance... I was kind of hoping that when nobody was around you would gently lean me up against one of those old gas lamps and kiss me...."

And with that very statement, Josselyn Beckett Rose crushed me....

Copyright Erotic Reverie 2013