I could feel the sexual energy between us. Somehow, Mr A emitted an aura that tugged at my heart and let loose the tingling sensations downwards.
I was sure when he took me to his apartment later, he would want to make love to me. I would gladly oblige. He was such a kind man.
There are not many people in the world who would offer a place for a stranger to stay for free till she find a more permanent one on her own.
We didn’t talk much during dinner. I guess he was not a good conversationalist. Or maybe he preferred not to talk while chewing beef in his mouth.
I’ve been in many dinner dates and talking while eating is tricky. If you are not careful, you could send a spray of spittle into the food on the table. That is one of the most disgusting and annoying table manners that some men, and some women, seem to lack. What is worse than that is having the spittle in your face.
So not talking during dinner might not be a bad thing. I could savor the tinge of tangy lemon on the soft piece of fish in my mouth. Hmmmm… yummy.
After dinner, he led us out of the diner, opening the door for me. How gentlemanly! And he pulled my huge heaving luggage for me too, all the way to his apartment which was three blocks away.
It is always nice to be treated like a princess. I feel so loved. If you remember how your father cuddled you, protecting you from the booming thunder, comforting you, you’d know what I mean by feeling so loved.
At almost midnight, the traffic had lightened. The streets were now littered with pedestrians like us who were making their way home after a late evening. They walked past, engrossed in conversations, sometimes a bit too animatedly, or too loudly. They were in their world of their own.
So were we.
“Here we are,” Mr A announced like a bellhop after he had opened the door to his apartment.