Shana
The restaurant high in the sky is filled with customers, every table an island among the sea of flickering candles within the ocean of windows offering the most spectacular view of New York City. Our conversation pauses as the waiter returns with Trevor’s credit card. I take in the stunning view as he signs the final bill and closes the small folder.
This is our second real date, third if you count the first night at the piano bar in Indianapolis. The thought makes me smile. Three dates in the course of a year. No one can say that we’re rushing things. As soon as he places the pen on the tablecloth, I lean forward and speak. “Dinner was amazing. You really don’t need to buy each time. I do have a spending stipend from Saks to cover my meals.”
Trevor just smiles.
“You know,” I offer, “I also know how to cook.”
“And does your hotel room have a nice kitchen?”
“I could invite you back to see it. Really, it’s amazing for a suite. The microwave oven is out of this world.”
His smile grows. “I like the invitation. I could even bring some microwave popcorn.”
I lay my hand on my stomach. “I’d say yes, but I believe I’m stuffed. One piece of popcorn and I may explode.”
Trevor stands and reaches for my hand. The warmth envelops me from my fingers within his grasp all the way to my toes. However, as I stand our connection breaks, and we casually move as a couple between the tables. And then, within a few steps, his hand returns, this time covering the small of my back.
I struggle with myself to admit that I like the way it feels to have him with me and how easy it is to fall into his lead as if we’re connected as one.
“Where to?” I ask as we stall just inside the large glass doors on the ground floor. Outside, the sidewalk is crowded with people as taxis and horns fill the street.
“That, my lady, is up to you. I know you had a big day at work today, and I wasn’t sure what you’d be up for doing.”
“Would you like to see my microwave?”
The gold flecks sparkle as he knowingly returns my grin. “You know, I have a full kitchen in my apartment.”
“No?”
“I do. I admit I don’t use it much, but I too can pop some scrumptious popcorn.”
I lean close and throw caution to the wind. This is our third date and no matter what the powers that be at Saks decide, I’ll be headed back to London in less than two weeks. “How about my microwave tonight and your kitchen tomorrow? I could stop and pick up some groceries after work and wow you with my culinary skills.”
“Or you could allow me to show you that I can cook something besides popcorn?” He stands tall and puffs out his chest. “After all, I’ve survived for thirty-plus years. I can make more than microwave meals.”
I lift my eyebrows, widening my stare. “Yes, Trevor, I’d say you’ve survived quite well.” I reach out and splay my fingers across his chest. “Probably not a lot of desserts.”
He reaches for my hand. “If you are asking if I can make a cannoli, I already have one.”
Heat fills my cheeks as my smile turns bashful. “I know.”
When he looks at me with a questioning expression, I go on, “I could tell the other night at the bar.”
“Shana?”
“Trevor, I’d like to have you come back to my room.” The words sound sure but saying them cranked up my pulse until I’m worried that if he doesn’t answer soon, I may faint.
His hands move upward and gently palm my cheeks. Slowly, he moves closer until our lips touch. When he pulls away, my eyes open wide to his. I’m lost in the golden flecks within his stare until he speaks.
“If I go to your hotel, I don’t want popcorn.”
I let out a soft giggle. “What do you want?”
“Shana, I want the same thing I’ve wanted since the night before the wedding. I want you.” He leans back and takes me in. The heat from his stare is like a flame on my skin as his eyes scan from my shoes to my eyes. “All of you. I want all of you.”
“I guess that’s good.”
“You guess?”
“I don’t have any popcorn.”
One more kiss and we step hand in hand out onto the sidewalk as the doorman flags us a taxi.
Other than the outside noise, the ride is quiet as we both silently watch the world pass by outside the windows of the taxi. The streets never seem to care if it’s day or night. The traffic remains. My mind and body twist with eager anticipation. The overwhelming expectancy is like a warm fog surrounding us, filling the taxi with its sweet scent. It’s as if we’re floating instead of driving to our destination.
Subconsciously, I nibble upon my lip as I overanalyze what we’re about to do. It’s not like I’m naïve. I’m a grown woman who knows exactly what she just agreed to have happen, and yet in some ways, I feel as though I’m at as much of a loss as I was my first time.
Don’t misunderstand. I’m not a virgin, and I know the fundamentals. It’s just that it’s been a long time since I’ve had what Kimbra and I used to refer to as mind-blowing sex.
As I think back on my not-very-impressive list, I’m beginning to wonder if I ever really had it. I contemplate the elements necessary for taking a relationship to this next level. First, there’s usually a physical attraction. I mean, no one usually jumps into bed with someone they’re not attracted to. As I think back, I wonder if sometimes the surface is the only element.
There’s no doubt that when it comes to Trevor, I’m extremely attracted. I have been since the first time we met.
Turning, I take in his profile, his nose, strong chiseled jaw, and neck, the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Against the lights of the city, riding along beside me, in some ways he seems larger than life. From his wide shoulders to his thick arms, I have fantasized about him. I recall his wide thighs from a year ago and the hardness of him against me at the bar.
The first element is definitely there and growing stronger with each block the taxi moves through the city. It’s the more that I’m unsure about. I like him. I really like him. I like his company, conversation, and presence. Just being beside him fills me with a reassuring warmth and contentment.
In only three dates and nearly twelve months, I trust him. I trust him in a way I’ve never before experienced. After all, three dates can happen within the space of three days. In those instances, there’s no denying the attraction. But with Trevor, it feels different.
I’ve never known a man as well as I know Trevor before making love.
In most cases, that knowledge and understanding came later, if it came at all.
This new direction is uncharted territory for me, and I’m worried it’s turned around.
What if in getting to know one another we have unrealistic expectations? What if he doesn’t want me the way I want him?
Without warning, that voice in my head scatters seeds of self-doubt that were better left unplanted. It isn’t until we pull up outside the hotel that I recall my talk with Stephen earlier in the night.
I’m brave. That’s what he said.
I don’t feel brave, but then again, what did he say?
Stephen said that this isn’t about losing me; it’s about adding Trevor to the equation, about being more, not less.
As the taxi stops, Trevor lifts my knuckles to his lips. “You’ve been very quiet.”
“So have you.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
Again, I speak without worrying what it may bring, facing Trevor and giving him my most honest reply. “I guess I’m worried. I want to know if you really want me.”
With only the light of the overhead canopy, Trevor’s eyes open wide and he leans close. His voice is thick and filled with desire like I’ve never heard from him. “My lady, I could take this hand...” He splays my fingers against his. “...and place it somewhere else. If I did, you’d know that wanting you has been my only thought during this entire ride. Right now, I’m so fucking hard that I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk.”
It may not be the kind of talk that every woman wants to hear, but every word is music to my ears.
“How about I check that situation once we get upstairs?”
“How far up? I’m not sure I’ll make it.”