CHAPTER 8
Remy
I guided the razor over the curve of my chin carefully; I didn't want to nick myself and leave an unsightly cut, not right before a date. The stroke was perfect, thankfully, and with that I washed the last of the shaving foam from my face and looked in the mirror.
Come on, Remy, you can do this. Cool, calm, confident and slick – that's you.
It had been a while since I’d had to give myself a confidence-boosting pep talk in a mirror, but then again, that was because it had been quite a long while since I had been on a date – well, at least a date of my own choosing. I had been on plenty of dates over the past few years, but I hadn't felt nervous before any of them, because they had all been set up for me by friends, or had been the result of women who I wasn't that interested in asking me out, to which I had reluctantly agreed. And not a single one of those dates had resulted in a second date. It hadn't been the girls' fault; it had been mine. I couldn't help that I was extremely picky when it came to women. I couldn't help that there were very specific things that I found attractive, and I couldn't help that there was no way I could force attraction, or bring myself to want to be with someone who I wasn't intensely attracted to.
This date, of course, was entirely different. Finally, I was going out with someone I had asked out, someone I lusted after, someone who had caught my eye and held my gaze from the very first moment I had laid eyes on her – and that made me nervous, because it was something that hadn't happened in a very long time.
Still, I liked the feeling – it was a good kind of nervousness, a pleasant kind of pressure, and I was eager to get to the restaurant and get the date underway. I found myself wondering what Danica would look like all dressed up and all made up... and the thought of this got blood flowing rapidly to a certain area of my anatomy. No, no! It wasn't the right time for those sort of thoughts, not now.
I made sure my hair was perfect – I had just been to my stylist earlier today, so it pretty much was – and then I got dressed in an Armani suit and headed out.
I arrived at Dorsia half an hour later, ten minutes early for the date, and took a seat at the table reserved for Danica and myself. Two minutes later, Danica walked in, dressed in high heels and a stunning, figure-hugging red cocktail dress that accentuated her gorgeous curves. I had to make a conscious effort not to stare too hard at her as I stood up to pull out her chair for her.
“You look utterly amazing,” I said. “You're the most beautiful woman in this room by a long shot.”
She blushed. “Wow, thank you. You look pretty great yourself.”
“Where did you get that dress?” I asked.
“To be honest... I found it in a thrift store,” she said, looking embarrassed. I think she had chosen to tell the truth because perhaps she wasn't a very good liar – or maybe because she wanted to see how I could react to something like that.
I smiled. “Well, that was a great find for you then, wasn't it? You could almost say though, that the dress found you, couldn't you? I doubt its former owner could hold a candle to you, with how you look in it.”
She blushed again, and I thought it somewhat unusual that someone so pretty wasn't used to flattery and compliments. Still, I didn't want to pry about such things now.
A waiter came up to our table. “Would you like to order some drinks?”
I looked across at Danica. “Do you have any preference when it comes to wine?”
She simply shook her head.
“All right, then please bring us a bottle of your finest Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“Of course, sir. Here are the starter menus.”
He handed both myself and Danica a starter menu, and we began to look through them.
“I've had the lobster frittata here before, and it's to die for,” I said. “Have you been here before? I'd recommend that as a starter if you haven't.”
“I um, no, I've never been here. So, yeah, I guess I'll go with that.”
“You won't regret it,” I said with a smile. “As for me, I'm thinking the duck and morel mushroom pâté en croûte. I haven't tried Dorsia's version, but a few friends have told me that it's excellent.”
“I guess it must be then,” she said.
I could tell that she was feeling a little out of place here, so I decided to steer the topic away from the gourmet dishes.
“So, why don't you tell me about your dancing?” I said. “Now that you've got your free lessons, what are you going to focus on?”
“Ballet has always been my favorite,” she said, suddenly seeming a lot more animated and excited to talk. “But, at my age, I’m a little past prime for getting into any good companies. So, I am thinking of focusing on Latin.”
“Really? That's fantastic,” I said with a smile. “I love Latin stuff as well. I learned to play guitar Spanish style when I was a teenager. I hardly ever have time to play these days, but I love picking it up and giving it a good passionate strumming when I can.”
“'Passionate' – now there's a word I like. It's one of the most important things in life, don't you think? To live with passion, to move with passion, to feel it flowing through your veins...”
The way she said that gave me goosebumps, and I found myself getting lost in her eyes – and in her attitude toward life, because it mirrored my own.
“I can relate to that,” I said with a smile. “I really can. Life is nothing without raw, intense, fiery passion...”
We talked some more, and the conversation flowed easily and fluidly between us. We discovered that we had more in common than just taste in music and a desire to live passionately. However, after the main course, while we were waiting for dessert, when I tried to steer the conversation to matters more personal to her, like her past and where she currently lived, she became quite guarded.
“Well, I stay a few blocks from here,” she said, not giving me any specifics. “It's an um, a nice enough place, I guess.”
She looked very relieved when the waiter brought our dessert so that she could change the topic.
“Wow, this black forest cake looks amazing!” she exclaimed. “And it's so beautifully-made, too... I almost feel guilty taking a bite out of it.”
“You'd better take a photograph of it first,” I said.
“Oh, um, my phone, it doesn't, uh, it doesn't take very good pictures,” she said.
Come to think of it, she hadn't taken her phone out at all during the date. On the one hand, that was a good thing, as a lot of my previous dates had spent a lot more time staring at their screens than they had talking to me. However, I couldn't help wondering if there was something she was trying to hide.
I didn't push her though. Instead, I passed my phone, with its forty-one-megapixel camera, over to her.
“This takes photos that are almost as good as a DSLR camera's,” I said. “Use mine, and I'll send you the pic.”
She smiled. “All right!”
She took a picture of the cake, and then we dug in. Like the rest of the food we had eaten here, it was magnificent. I asked for the bill, and then, emboldened by the wine we had had, I asked if she wanted to go for a walk before going home. She agreed, and after I paid the bill we walked across the street to a small, quaint park, and took a leisurely stroll under the stars. I slipped my hand into hers and felt a thrill rush through me as she intertwined her fingers with mine and gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“It's an unusually clear evening,” I said. “Look up – you can actually see some stars in the Manhattan sky.”
She looked up and smiled. “People don't do that enough – look up at the stars, I mean.”
“I agree,” I said. “In fact, they rarely pay enough attention to any beauty. But me – I like beauty, I like it a lot. And despite how spectacular a starry sky is, it can't match what's inches away from me right now.”
We stared deeply into one another's eyes, and then I knew I had to do it – I made my move. I leaned in for the kiss, and she didn't resist. No, she leaned in, too, and our lips met and parted, and then my tongue was in her mouth, and fireworks were exploding through my mind in ferocious blooms of bright colors. We kissed passionately for a good few moments, and when our lips finally parted, I had a smile on my face that I didn't think anything could erase. However, I had a confession to make to her... and I didn't think it was right to wait any longer to say it.
“That was amazing,” I said to her. “You are amazing... But there's something I have to tell you...”