Chapter 5: There? See? Perfection.

It may have been a one night stand to him, but to me it was a lifetime of memories.

    Slipping into the silky fabric, in which, was my one and only nice dress, I flipped my hair, unsure on what to do with it. Gently letting it cascade down my back, I turned around to peer in the mirror, my dress fitting snuggly around my hour-glass figure. I felt my neck, noticing how bare I seemed and that was when I realized how nervous I was. It had been so long since I had gone on a date. So long, in fact, I had forgotten how it felt to be admired. Grabbing my sweater, I took one last look in the mirror and hurried off to the front door. The last thing I wanted was to probed with questions. I would just meet Ethan outside.
      Too late.
      There he was, smiling sweetly, standing next to Ryan.
      “Ethan says you have a date with him,” Ryan said, his firm jaw more punctual than usual.
      “Hey, Sam! Gosh, don’t you look dazzling,” Ethan complimented me.
      I smiled awkwardly. Ethan held out his hand.
      “We have a reservation at the La Petit Bourgeois, so we better be going.”
      I went to the coat rack for my purse.
      “Uh, Sam. I have it,” Ryan said, holding it. About to take it from him, I was swept up in a gigantic bear hug, my body pressed firmly against his. I felt his mouth near my ear.
      “There’s pepper spray in your purse,” he whispered. Then he dropped me.
      “It’s amazing how grown up she’s become,” Ryan lied. Ethan just smiled faintly.
      “Have fun!” Ryan cheered, closing the door behind us as we stepped outside.
      “Is he your brother?” Ethan asked, when we got into the cab. Paying the driver, he leaned back, placing his arm around me. I shifted uncomfortably.
      “Something like that,” I replied, avoiding his gaze.  
      Changing the subject, he then said, “You’ll love this place. The finest French Cuisine in New York.”
      “Sounds delicious. But how did you manage a reservation so soon? Don’t these types of places require reservations weeks in advance?”
      “Well, the reservation was already made when I met you,” he replied, readjusting his blue blazer.
      “Oh.”
      “I had a business meeting. Got canceled.”
      I couldn’t help but frown. Ethan noticed.
      “I promise you I’m not using you to be the replacement. It just happened to be a coincidence that I would meet you.” Lifting his arm, his placed it on my hand. “You know, I’ve been all over the world,” he bragged, smirking.
      “Oh, really?” I asked, getting a little annoyed at his cockiness. “You never did tell me your job.”
      “I sell land, nationally and internationally. In fact, I have a piece of property on the Island of Elba I’m looking to sell. Know anyone interested?”
      “No, but you’ll the be the first to know,” I said, turning my head to look out the window. Some how this date already seemed like a drag. It took about ten minutes to get to our destination, the ride almost seeming like a half an hour due to boring discussions of real state and tourist traps.
      Finally, we arrived at the Little Citizen Restaurant, its glorious window-paned building towering over us. Looking up, it stretched for miles, windows upon windows filled up with people wining and dining. Something a girl would love to be pampered with. Except me.
      Ethan lead me inside. Marble floors were laid out before us and columns upon columns lined the walls. A waiter stood in front of us, his right arm against his chest while the other remained behind his back.
      Motioning for me to follow the man, Ethan placed his hand on my back, the feeling of human contact sending jolts through out my body.
      We were placed on the fifth floor, in our own quaint room. Peering out, hundreds of sky-scrapers made up our scenery. I had to give it to the man, it was beautiful.
      “I’m hoping I haven’t mesmerized you too much,” Ethan laughed, as the waiter introduced himself and informed us of their complimentary wines.
      “We’ll have the Romane Conti,” Ethan plainly stated. The waiter nodded and left.
      “Let me guess, you just ordered us the most expensive wine on the list,” I assumed, placing my head on my hands.
      “Yes, I did. Approximately $1,540 more than the outdoor market wine.”
      “You really didn’t have to do that,” I told him, playing with the silverware.
      “Is it a sin for a man to love fine wine?” he asked, placing his hand, once again, over mine.
      Ethan. There was something about him. He seemed strange, yet dazzling. Annoying, yet captivating. I couldn’t put my finger on it and neither did I have the time to, because just then, the waiter brought the wine.
      Setting it down, as if it were a glass doll, he popped open the cork, pulled over two wine glasses and gently poured the wine, letting it settle on the bottom. He handed me a glass. Clumsily, I set it down, it’s exotic and fancy nature burning my hand. Ethan smiled.
      “Don’t be afraid. The first time I tried wine as expensive as this, I nearly spilt it. It comes as a great shock at first but then you get use to it.” And with that, he nodded to me and took a small sip from of his glass. Smiling in delight, he looked over to the waiter who then, happy with the content of his customers, left.
      “Rich and penetrating, but not too profound; just like I like it. Go on, try it.”
      I took the glass in my hand and viewed it’s contents; the wine was dark, the smell of soy sauce, flowers, and licorice sifted through the air. I, too, took a small sip. It was moist, satisfying, and dangerous…like Ethan.
      “There? See? Perfection.”
      I nodded, taking another sip.
      
      
      And although, the cab ride had bored me to no end, the dinner turned out to be pretty spectacular, with lamb as the main dish.
      After dinner, Ethan leaned back in his chair, his eyes focusing on me as I wiped my mouth, suddenly self conscience.
      “Did you enjoy everything?” he asked.
      “Oh, yes I did,” I replied, setting my cloth down. “But I don’t expect you to pay for my side of the bill.”
      “Sam, this was my treat. The next dinner can be on you.”
      “Me?” I asked, surprised.
      “Of course, you didn’t expect me to take you out to this fabulous place without a second date, did you?”
      “Uh,” I choked.
      “Sam,” he began, leaning in. “I told you I loved to be entertained and frankly, you entertain me.”
      There was that line.
      “Ethan--”
      “--Don’t worry, I don’t expect a fancy date such as this. A mere dinner in the park would be suffice.”
      The waiter returned, handed a slip of paper to Ethan and then exited. Quickly, Ethan pulled out his wallet, flopped two grand upon the table and then stood up. He held his hand out.
      “Ready to go?” he asked, grinning.

Author's Note

Rough draft