After about an hour, Vincen-with Rose's help-finishes getting ready. He heads down to the hotel bar. He's dressed in dark gray slacks, a matching vest, and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons left open. Rose has styled his hair to be slicked back with a few strands dangling over his forehead. He orders a whiskey on the rocks and waits. He gets a text:
"I'm on my way. I'll be in a red cocktail dress..."
His heart races at the thought, but he's still waiting. The bartender notices Vincent checking his phone, then looking around, and strikes up a conversation.
"Got a hot date?" he asks as he refills a bowl of nuts.
Vincent snaps to attention and feels a flush come over his face as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He has to focus and take a breath to remember he and Rose are out of state where no one knows him or their relationship. There is no "getting caught" because, to everyone around them, they'll look like a regular couple. Well, an older man with a younger woman, but normal nonetheless. He and Rose haven't been able to go out on an actual date since this whole thing started because they haven't had time and they didn't want to get caught or seen by the wrong people.
He clears his throat and chuckles softly, "Umm, yeah, actually."
"You seem nervous," the bartender says with a kind smile. "First date I assume?"
Vincent nods, remembering the fantasy Rose wants to play out, and says, "Yes. This is, uh, actually the first time we're gonna meet. I have no idea what she even looks like except for what she'll be wearing."
"Oh! You must be on that new dating app. What's it called..." the bartender thinks for a second, then snaps his fingers when it comes to him. "
Blind Love
, right? The one where it doesn't allow you to exchange pictures or phone numbers? I've heard about that one."
Vincent smiles and nods. "That's the one. We've been chatting for about a month and a half. This is the first time we've both been able to get time off to actually meet up. I guess I'm nervous and anxious."
"I can see why," he chuckles. He notices Vincent's whiskey is almost finished, so he pours another and slides it to him. "Here, this one is on me."
"Thank you," Vincent nods and smiles.
"You know," the bartender smirks proudly, "if you
really
wanna impress your date, you should ask her what her drink of choice is, then I can have it ready by the time she gets here."
Vincent's eyes light up a little. "That's...actually a really good idea." He pulls out his phone and sends Rose a text. After a moment, she responds and he chuckles. "Shoulda known," he looks up at the bartender. "Lemon drop martini."
The bartender nods, "Soon as I see a woman in a red cocktail dress, I'll get it started."
"Thank you," Vincent says.
By his third whiskey, Rose still hasn't arrived. The bar is getting fairly crowded, but he still doesn't recognize anyone there. Vincent and the bartender keep chatting occasionally which comes as a welcome distraction. Then, as Vincent readies to order his fourth whiskey and to call Rose, he sees the bartender look up towards the door. His jaw drops for a moment, then a slow smile comes across his face.
"I think your date is here..."
Vincent turns and his heart nearly stops while his dick feels like it's going to split his slacks wide open. "Holy fuck..." he says under his breath.
Rose is there with all eyes in the bar on her, but her eyes are fixated on him. She smirks confidently as she rightfully should. Her long hair is pinned back in an almost princess style; a half ponytail with all of her hair curled and cascading down her back. Her part is to the left with a chunk of hair draped gently across her forehead and tucked behind her right ear. She's left a few tendrils of hair loose to lay on her shoulders.
Her make-up is done in a vintage pin-up style with black winged eyeliner, thick black eyelashes, and deep red lipstick. There's a hint of brown eyeshadows on her eyes, bringing out the beautiful green in her eyes.
She is wearing a blood red satin cocktail dress with a cowl neckline that shows off an ample amount of her cleavage. The straps of the dress go over her shoulders and glitter with white rhinestones. The dress hugs every curve from her breasts down to ass and her thighs. The dress cuts off just above her knees, but there is a side slit that goes just high enough that, if you were paying attention-which he is-you could see a hint of the curve of her ass.
His eyes travel down her legs that have a slight glisten to them which means they are smooth and begging to be touched. On her feet she has on a pair of red, rounded toe pumps with rhinestone ankle straps. His eyes travel back up as she begins to walk towards him.
More than a few men and women are watching her with envy, anxious to see who she is there to meet. There's hope in a few of their eyes that she isn't meeting anyone and they'll get a chance to buy her a drink. As she walks by man after man, he can see them basically fucking her with their eyes. A wave of possessiveness and protectiveness nearly drowns him, but he has to remind himself that, here, he isn't her father; he's her date and they are meeting for the first time.
As Rose comes up to him her smirk turns into a smile. "You must be VinSpina38?"
Somehow Vincent's throat is dry while his mouth is watering. He barely gets a sound out before he has to try and clear his throat, but all he manages to get out is, "F-Firefly44?"
Rose giggles. "That's me. I'm Rose," she says as she holds out her hand to him.
Vincent almost knocks his whiskey over as he brings his right hand over to hers. He catches the glass before it spills, then takes her hand. "Vincent..." he shakes her hand. "You look...incredible. Absolutely stunning."
Rose blushes and giggles, "Thank you."
His heart is racing, about to pound out of his chest, and he feels like he did on his very first date when he was a teenager. He's seen Rose naked-been inside her for fuck's sake-but now? Now, unlike her 18th birthday, he isn't
just
seeing her as a woman for the first time. It's like he's completely forgotten that she's his daughter and
only
sees her as the beautiful, sexy woman she is.
As soon as he remembers to breathe, he smiles and stands up. "Won't you sit down?" he gestures to the open barstool beside his. Rose nods and, as she goes to sit, her hip and the satin fabric covering it brush lightly against his hand. It's enough to send a shiver through him and, after he sits back down, he has to take a long drink from his whiskey to try and compose himself. He ends up polishing it off, but just as he sets down the glass, the bartender sets down a fresh whiskey and a lemon drop martini. He gives Vincent a smirk and a wink before tending to other customers.
Rose smiles at the drink, then looks at him. "Sneaky...very sneaky."
"The bartender gave me the idea to have it ready when you got here," he says as he fights every urge and muscle in his body telling him to touch her. His eyes look her up and down, then lock on hers before he leans in and whispers to her, "You have
no idea
how badly I want to fuck you right now, Baby Girl..." His left hand subtly rests on her knee and gently squeezes it. The way his cock strains against his pants right now is becoming almost physically painful.
He can't help himself. He finally gives in and reaches out to touch her. His hand moves and he starts to run his fingers up and down her smooth, bare thigh. The feel of her skin against his touch nearly drives him wild, but he keeps his cool...for now. He smirks at her as his fingers reach the hem of her dress at her upper thigh. Just as his hand starts to slide up her thigh, she stops him. "Not yet, Daddy..." she whispers before he reluctantly withdraws his hand. "So," Rose speaks up at a normal volume as she sips her martini, "you look very nice tonight. That's a great color on you."
"Thank you," he says with his eyes locked on hers. "My
daughter
helped me put it together. She even styled my hair," he smirks.
"Hmm, did she?" Rose says with amusement. "Well, she has
very
good taste," she says as she reaches over and tugs at the collar of his shirt gently to straighten it. Her wrist gets close enough to his face he can smell her perfume and his eyes darken with hunger. Rose knows exactly what he's hungry for, but playfully asks, "Hungry? Should we...get a table?"
Vincent's nostrils flare as he tries to contain himself. "Yes, starving, actually." He signals the bartender and asks if they can get a table. He lets them know about the open seating, but the only spot left is a corner booth. Vincent subtly adjusts his erection so the entire restaurant doesn't see before they stand. They take their drinks and start to head over to the booth. As they do, Vincent instinctively puts his hand on her lower back. But, when he feels skin, his eyes snap down and he sees her dress is backless and the hem is only a few inches above her ass.
It would be so easy-not subtle, in fact it would be downright obvious-to slip his hand under the hem and give her ass a squeeze, but he restrains himself.
As they pass by people he can hear them whispering about him and Rose. He hears everything from obvious jealous envy to things that boil his blood. His protectiveness over her, both as her father and lover, are on overdrive. He even hears a few guys, probably in their early twenties, say to each other, "Dude, you should give her your number!" "Dude! She's clearly on a date!" "Yeah, with some old fuck!" "C'mon man! Do it! We could bring her back to our place..." "Yeah, and have some
