All characters in the following work of fiction are over the age of eighteen.
This is a new stroryline. I hope you enjoy it.
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It was a Friday night, typically one of the busier nights at your local watering hole. Even though I wasn't a local, it still applied.
"I'm sorry...say it again?" I laughed, pretending not to hear her. The bar was loud, but not that loud. It was my one and only trick, but it always worked. She leaned closer, and I tipped my head down, so she could get closer to my ear. While she repeated the name I'd heard just fine despite the din, I took a deep breath, inhaling the strawberry scent of her hair, and took a good look down the top of her burgundy coloured dress, finding a very nice, full, round rack residing in the scoop neckline.
"I said, my name's Deirdre," she reiterated, cupping her hand around my ear. I checked out the dusting of freckles that adorned the upper curves of her breasts, and then replied.
"Deirdre? That's a very nice name," I said loudly.
Nice tits, too,
I thought. "Unusual, but nice. You don't meet a lot of 'Deirdre's. It's sexy."
Okay. I guess you could say that was also a trick, but I considered it common sense. Most people would rather talk about themselves than any other subject, and I had found that to be especially true of exceptionally attractive women. They always liked to hear that they were gorgeous. Deirdre qualified in spades.
Tall, slender, shapely in the most feminine of ways, and stunningly beautiful, I wondered how the hell no one had approached this goddess yet, but I had found her sitting alone at the bar, and merely introducing myself had already paid dividends. Maybe the myth was true : men were afraid of beautiful women. Wanted them?
Oh yes
. Lusted after them?
For sure
, but afraid of the potential rejection.
I was looking at her face, trying to figure out who she resembled. Paget Brewster? Sort of. She did have Paget's stature, but the face was not quite right. It took another few seconds before the light bulb went off. The huge, dark soulful eyes...the lustrous, sweeping waves of brunette hair, reaching well beyond her shoulders...the full, delicious looking lips. Yeah that's it. Sometimes, being trained to observe the nuances of shadow and light pays dividends.
Salma. Hayak. Oh good lord. She looked like Salma Hayak, but taller, with what appeared to be bigger tits, and an absolutely incandescent smile. That smile was glowing right now.
"I think I'm in trouble," she blushed, looking down. When her eyes came back up, they met mine again. "The way you're looking at me is turning me to jelly."
"Sorry," I replied. "I don't mean to stare. Do you mind if I tell you something? I know we've just met and all, but..."
"Go ahead," she said, and the loud cacophony of background noise abated, as if also wanting to hear my words.
"I know it sounds like a line, and you probably hear it all the time, but I mean it. I think you... " The rest of my compliment was lost, as the wall of noise returned, washing away any possibility of civilized conversation. Deirdre cocked her head, trying to hear, but it was a lost cause.
She held up her hand. Standing, she took two steps away taking her drink with her. I thought my chance was blown, until she turned, tilting her head and gesturing for me to follow her. No problem there. I'd follow that ass to the moon, and stayed close enough to keep any interlopers at bay, while being far enough back to watch. The skirt of her dress swished from side to side, following the sexy wiggle of her hips with each step she took. Her legs were long, strong and smooth, with calves that flexed and rippled as she walked. We weaved through the raucous crowd, finally reaching the dining room entrance, where Deirdre held up two fingers.
I don't know if you've noticed this, but I have found that beautiful women rarely spend much time waiting in line for anything. Sure enough, we walked straight in, despite the crowd waiting around at the entrance. Maybe they were all together, and waiting for a table for 20.
The waitress seated us, and left us with our menus.
"I hope you don't mind" she laughed, suddenly sounding very loud in the much quieter dining area. She lowered her voice a bit. "I haven't eaten yet, and I'd really like to talk to you, without either going deaf or losing my voice."
"Not at all, Deirdre," I replied opening my menu. I had eaten, but I could scarf something else down if it meant spending more time with her.
A few seconds of quiet perusal followed, and she closed her menu softly. I followed her lead, and the waitress returned. We placed our orders : a caesar salad, with garlic bread, and some wine for the lady, with me getting some stuffed mushrooms, mozzarella sticks, and a soft drink. I was driving.
"Now, before you were so rudely interrupted, you were saying?" she asked, leaning in, both arms on the table. She formed a tent with her fingers, and rested her chin on them, giving me her undivided attention. Those spectacular eyes, so warm and deep, batted a few times, then waited patiently.
Okay buddy, this is a test,
I thought.
Do not...repeat, do not look directly at the cleavage, no matter how much you want to. Shit! She was doing the 'resting her boobs on the table thing', and that view was incredible. Thank god for peripheral vision.
"Yes Deidre, " I started.
"Call me Didi," she suggested. "That's what my friends call me."
"Really?" I asked, genuinely touched. "Well, thank you... Didi. I'm honoured that you consider me a friend."
She laughed. "You're welcome. Now?" I noticed that there was a subtle tone in her voice that had been lost in the noise of the bar. Just a hint of sarcasm. Looking carefully, I could see that her eyes, while beautiful, were a bit cynical. I'd missed that too.
"Oh right. You derailed me," I apologized. "What was I saying?" I paused, as though trying to remember, but actually just stalling for time and courage. She would hear every nuance of every word in here, so I had to get it right the first time.
"I...think you...are the most beautiful woman...I've ever seen. You have the most remarkable eyes, and the most luscious lips. I consider it a privilege to have met you, and your beauty will be remembered by me, long after this night is forgotten." Through it all, I stared attentively into her limpid pools, never deviating, trying to adequately convey my honest intent.
Silence. She stared back, her mouth slightly open. Otherwise, her face was neutral. I couldn't tell if she was happy, or pissed. Eternity seemed to pass, until her lip twitched, just on one side, and a crooked smile broke out. Her eyes fluttered down again.
"Jesus! You don't mess around, do you?" she hissed." First you give me that look in the bar, now you drop a bomb like that on me? You're not playing fair!" The thinly veiled sarcasm was more evident.
