Hidden First Date

As I sit at the bar and sip my second glass of Merlot; Duckhorn Three Palms Merlot, an exquisite wine for my exquisite taste, I patiently wait for him to enter the bar.

It's 9:37 pm, I'm already a little lightheaded.

"It must be the nerves". I tell myself out loud waiting for my date to arrive.

I straighten the cosmetic crease on my fine silk dress. Black today, yes the little black dress. So stereotypical of a first date but I must admit I looked good. I looked really good.

Beginning to become a little anxious and bored, as I finish my final gulp of wine, I take notice of the quirky but none the less eye-catching decor in The Merlot Garden Bar.

Dark solid oak fills the room, red velvet trim curtains hang heavy from the windows and origami red napkins neatly sit on each table. Heavy industrial style lights hang from the ceiling and dim lighting makes every woman feel that little more confident in that skirt up-to here and hair down to there.

I look back down at my watch. It's now 9:46 pm and I'm beginning to think he isn't going to show.

"Shit" I whisper under my breath and begin to move towards the ladies room to freshen up before I leave.

Even the bathroom in this place is perfect. Antique tiles fill the room and heavy oak on every frame. A smell of sweet pea fills the air; I'm pleased to say the vegetable variety, as I make my way to the mirror to 'powder my nose.

"You're gorgeous, sexy, smart and worth more than the world".

I repeat these words several times to myself in the mirror, with a stale smile and a deep breath for luck, I hitch up my skirt, push up the money makers and walk out of the door.

Then, I see him. Mr Eli Grant himself. A 6ft something, dark-eyed, dark-haired and slightly stubbled. My favourite.

Eli was a businessman down south, he made his living through stocks and by god he was good, (the Italian suit was proof of that). Valentino, I believe. A fine tux with satin lapels. Beautiful.

I knew my fashion from my youth, I had a keen eye for Haute Couture fashion and spent much of my twenties in Milan. However, through all of my travelling, my absolute favourite place to visit was Monaco, The Hotel Hermitage Monte-Carlo to be precise. The views from the penthouse suite were exquisite, much like my Duckhorn wine.

After staring mercilessly at Mr Grant for what seemed like forever, I place myself just off the end of the bar, order my third Merlot of the night and admire the view.

Yes, I had been waiting for him to arrive all night but a little sightseeing before diving in wasn't going to hurt anyone. After all, it was a spectacular view indeed.

I had first seen Eli at a fashion convention in Paris. I was smitten from the beginning, never being able to resist a strong smile or a man in a Valentino I knew a date would soon be on the horizon. After that, I had begun to learn so much more about him. His favourite food; oysters, favourite play; Madame Butterfly, shoe size 10 and dick size...Well, I'm yet to know. But, going by his shoe size, I would say I'm in for a treat.

Sipping down my third glass of fine wine, I feel the urge to stroke my leg. He was magnificently spectacular to watch; even from the other side of the room. I could taste him already.

I lightly hitch up my skirt that little more, I take a sneak peek around the room to make sure I'm not being watched. I don't care much in all honesty, sometimes the excitement of getting caught was enough but better to be cautious during happy hour.

The silk of my thighs makes me shiver with excitement. My legs are my A-game, I've worked hard on these babies. Closing in on 35 far faster than I want, I still have the best legs this side of the Thames.

I finish my final sip of wine, straighten my skirt and begin to move in. His marvellous laughter fills the room, I can see the women swooning over him and many of the men too.

Just feet from tapping his shoulder, I suddenly stop in my tracks as I see her approach.

"Absolute bitch", I whisper deeply under my breath and begin to step back.

Stroking Eli's shoulder, and joining in with his laughter, I felt a wave of anger flood over me.

"Another glass of Merlot will help", I say to myself.

And with that, the fourth glass of Duckhorn is ordered.

One, two, three and gone. I must have spent a couple of hundred pounds on wine. But, at £116 a bottle in the shops, my taste is not cheap. Of course not.

As the fury builds, I try to stay calm and collected.

"How dare he, how fucking dare he laugh with her and not me".

About to leave, I notice a window.

"I'll be right back Hunny", I hear her say from across the room.

She starts making her way to the ladies room in her hussy dress and lipstick that every Jezabel would envy. I shouldn't judge but I do.

I follow her.

As I enter the bathroom she notices me in the mirror.

"Hi beautiful", she says as her words lead to a wink.

"All night, all night I've been waiting for him to come in. Then, when he does, I go to approach him and you swoop in with your hussy dress and needy attitude".

"I'm sorry Hunny", she replies, stroking my face with one hand and my inner thigh with her other.

"Don't be mad at me baby, we will take him yet".

"Ok", I reply. "Just stop looking so needy, you'll give us away".

"Never sweet cheeks, we're professionals. Do you have the necessary intel on our Mr Grant?"

"Of course I do", I reply. "I'm a professional".

She leans in for a kiss but wants more.

"When the job's done" I reply, "When the job's done".

Thank you for reading my story 'Hidden First Date' I have you have enjoyed what you have read and if you have, why not drop a heart for luck?