My new nightly ritual includes talking to Conner. It’s turned into my dessert at the end of a long day. We make a couple pacts, one is not to discuss Meredith, the other is whenever we use an English word, we need to look up the Arabic equivalent, and then we each need to use it in the next sentence. Sometimes it’s frustrating, but mostly it turns into a fun game, actually I find it’s a wonderful way to expand my vocabulary.
***
“Olivia!”
Meredith and I both stop and turn to the sound of my name.
Rashad waves. Satisfaction fills me, look who’s tracked me down. Let’s hope he doesn’t turn into a stalker. Through his sunglasses, I catch him checking me out.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he croons in Arabic.
“But I never got any texts,” I reply back in Arabic.
“Ahh, but seeing you again is so much nicer. May I take you to dinner this Saturday night?”
“Rashad, this is my good friend Meredith,” I respond in English.
“Hello,” he dismissively replies.
I pull out my phone and pull up my calendar. “Let me see if I am available.” I make sure it takes long enough to make him sweat. “What time would that be?”
“Eight would be a proper time for dinner.”
“How continental of you,” I flirt while entering his name into my calendar. “I’m over at Lomita, text me for my exact location.” I wink at him. “I look forward to Saturday night. Now I’ve got to run.”
Meredith and I continue our walk to class. “So that’s who you’ve been all flirty with in Arabic?”
“No secrets with the Princesses. What else has Jennifer been telling you about me?”
Meredith shrugs. I know I’m being misleading, but I enjoy talking to her brother, and I don’t want my nightly conversation to cause a rift with me or her brother. Neither Conner nor I have a car, it’s not like we’ll get involved in anything more than phone sex. Unfortunately our conversations haven’t yet gotten even close to phone sex, though they do get rather flirty.
“Hey,” Ethan calls out as he joins us. “Have you completed our Chem Three homework assignment?”
“Why Ethan, are you looking for answers?” I flirt.
Meredith rolls her eyes. She doesn’t think I should encourage these guys, while Juliette is horrified that I enjoy juggling so many guys, and Kelly gives me a high five. In reality, I look forward to our interactions, the guys I let follow me around are always smart, nice, interesting in their own way, and anyway, we’re both having fun.
***
As Saturday night approaches, I’m not sure where we’re going. Rashad mentioned a rather exclusive restaurant, but that could have been bluster. What’s the likelihood he could get a reservation on such short notice? Whatever, it’s a great opportunity to dress up. I pull out one of the designer dresses mom recently sent me. Mom’s favorite form of recreation is shopping. Since she’s an equal opportunity shopper, she not only buys for herself, but when she falls in love with something that she thinks is too young, she buys it anyway, and sends it to me.
At about 7:30 I get a text from Rashad, the sixth since I said yes to his dinner invitation. I feel satisfied. He’s a player and I’ve got him off his game but wanting more. I enjoy the power this gives me. I never chase and I never respond to a general text within two hours. I like to keep my men insecure and always guessing. If they don’t like the game I play, I’d rather learn it up front. They can spend their time chasing after some woman who’s a lot easier to catch.
The latest e-mail asks me again where I live. Considering it’s about twenty minutes before he’s to pick me up, I give him my address, and tell him to text me when he’s downstairs since our front door is locked.
Rashad: I’m out in front illegally parked
After reading the message, I take one minute before texting him back. I wouldn’t want him to think I was staring at my phone.
With my killer high heels on, I’m glad that he’s tall. Now we’ll see eye to eye. I grab my wrap and head downstairs. He’s waiting for me in front, leaning against the passenger door of his car, as he looks pensively at his phone. It gives me a second to check him out.
He looks good…even better than what I remembered.
He gives me a sexy smile as he obviously checks me out. I get the flirtiest look I can muster while walking up to him. Without hesitating, I get close…real close.
When I’m an inch from his face I stop. “You clean up well,” I coo.
“I’d say so do you, but I thought you looked rather good the other day.”
He’s smooth. He moves away from the passenger door, opening it for me. Sweet, he drives a Mercedes CL Coupe. As I slide into the nice taupe colored leather seats, I take a deep sniff, it smells new. Nice.
“I made reservations at Baume. These reservations are hard to come by; you know it’s a Michelin two star.”
Wow, I’m impressed, not only is he going to drop a lot on me, he got a reservation, at such a high-level restaurant, and on such short notice.
“How did you wrangle that?” I flirt.
“I know people. Anyway, you can get a last minute reservation when someone else cancels. My backup restaurant was at Madera.”
“Impressive. You’re sure dialed in.”
He nods in self-satisfaction. We drive a couple of miles to California Avenue. He parks and takes my hand as we walk to a one story, not very interesting building. Upon opening the door for me, we enter a modern room, with brown and orange walls, low lighting, and lots of thick floor to ceiling curtains. The maitre d' escorts us to a simple but elegant room that has six tables. Rashad orders us a champagne aperitif as our menus are presented. We have a choice of an eight or twelve course menu. All the ingredients they plan on using in tonight’s meal are listed. You don’t order a dish; you tell your server which ingredients you don’t like.
The servers are all dressed in expensive suits. They work in concert to make sure we both get our plates set down at the same time, as one of them explains what they’re serving. Each course is small and artfully laid out. Rashad speaks to the sommelier, ordering the wine with experience. It makes me wonder how a guy so young has learned so much about wine.
Between every few plates, the servers bring us an Amuse-bouche, a little appetizer to prepare your palette for the next plate. By the time we get near the end of the meal I wonder if I’ll have room to breathe, let alone for dessert. Even though each plate is small, there are so many of them I’ve filled up. About three hours into dinner, I’m stuffed, and the wine has gone to my head. By the time they deliver the dessert, a study in dark chocolate – my favorite, I’m about to explode. I find room for dessert even though I know I’m going to pay penance for tonight’s indulgence next week.
Rashad, who is classically handsome, worldly, and has impeccable manners, looks even better as the night progresses and my beer or should I say expensive food and wine goggles descend.
Our conversation is interesting. He has a surprisingly self-deprecating sense of humor and an ability to understand and make fun of his own culture. We talk about school, global politics, and environmental issues. He’s a lot less conservative than I thought a Saudi would be, though I still wonder if he’s the type of Saudi who talks liberally with his western girlfriend while keeping his wives shuttered up, unable to drive, in his Saudi compound. I’m starting to think that picking him up at the student union was one of my better moves.
“That was amazing,” I exclaim. “I think it was equal to ten meals. My stomach is so full I don’t think I’ll eat for the next week.”
Then they bring our check along with a plate of specially made cookies and chocolate truffles. We both look at the plate and crack up.
“Don’t worry, I’ll wrap them up. You can eat them tomorrow,” our server quickly says.
Rashad places his hand on the small of my back as we head to his car. As we enter the parking lot I’m hoping he kisses as well as he does everything else, since dinner has been a real good prelude for the rest of this date.
Can I take you back to my place,” he softly murmurs in my ear.
I lean into him and kiss him lightly. He responds to my kiss by pulling me a little tighter and returning it. His lips are soft, but his desire is hard. The kiss quickly moves to steamy as my hands reach into his scalp braiding his soft hair through my fingers. While his hands move lower as his fingers grab hold of my butt. Our tongues meet each other’s as our kiss goes deep. The parking lot is dark, secluded, allowing us to extend our kiss in privacy.
“Come home with me,” his raspy voice rumbles in my ear. “I can show you how a Saudi man appreciates a woman.”
Talk about a stupid line, has this guy been watching too many movies? Maybe he’s really in his forties? What guy my age would say that? Then again whatever product he uses, it’s intoxicating as I rub my nose against his cheek.
I choose not to answer; instead I shoot him a mysterious smile as I slide into the passenger seat. I clip myself in; my undisciplined self wants to head back to his place for slow sensual sex. My disciplined side instructs, you need to leave him wanting more. Having sex with him isn’t going to accomplish that. If I just wanted sex, I’d go to a frat party and hook up. Rashad is more interesting than a one night stand. If I’m too easy, that’s all I’ll be.
I smile at him as I roll the back of my fingers down his arm, “Take me home tonight,” I seductively purr. “Maybe next weekend we can plan something more.”
His look turns conflicted. I know he just dropped a lot for dinner and he thinks he should get something back, that attitude alone makes me not want to give it to him.
“I’m worth waiting for,” I flirt.