A Hell of a First Date

Silvio hated bow ties. No matter how many times he wore one, he had trouble at the same part in the tying process. Ok, so it was a first date, the venue had a dress code, and his cicerone ensured him he would have to wear it. Buy why couldn’t he go on the date without a length of fabric threatening to restrict his airflow?

He’d showered, brushed his teeth, spritzed on some expensive cologne his cicerone had gotten him, and slipped on a tailored three piece suit. A special suit from a tailor that specialized in suiting for men in his line of work. Silvio was always impressed with how well these suits turned out. His pants and vest were a deep shade of maroon almost the same hue of blood. A blazer and collared dress shirt so black they seemed to absorb the light around them like a black hole rounded out the outfit along with the offending tie, the same shade as the vest and pants. He twirled in the mirror, checking himself out and making sure everything was tucked in the right way. He was amazed how perfectly the suit fit. His thick thighs and broad shoulders had always been a point of concern with every off-rack suit purchase he’d made but this suit accented every curve of his body like a second skin. If his dimples didn’t draw attention, the way the suit hugged his ass would.

Silvio’s perusal in the mirror revealed small bags under his hazel eyes, confirming his rough couple days and the purplish skin of his bruised jaw peeking through the combination of stubble and makeup he’d used to cover it up. If he weren’t reminded by the pulsing pain brought on every time he moved his face, he wouldn’t even know it was there by looking. Luckily the split lip he earned along with the bruised jaw had fully healed the day before. He was nearly back to his handsome self. He smiled at himself in the mirror, trying not to wince at the twinge of pain along his jaw, noting the way his full lips stretched to show off his pearly whites. Once satisfied with his reflection, he slipped his socked feet into the special dress shoes that came with the suit and left his hotel room.

Silvio had been living out of hotels since he’d left the academy. He traveled the world for a living and loved every minute of it. Seeing exotic places hadn’t lost its luster over the last decade even if he sometimes wished he had someone to come home to at the end of the day, someone to settle his ruffled feathers and ease his troubles. But that was a fantasy. It was hard enough to make a relationship work when you’re in the same city but exceedingly difficult when he rarely visited the same place twice. He knew, he’d tried.

His walk along the promenade took him past all kinds of restaurants and night clubs, each tantalizing with their own offerings meant to sate his needs. Silvio hated the stuffy crowd, tonight would be a unique kind of torture among them. It would be an understatement to say he wasn’t tempted to veer off into one of the other locations.

Before long the sounds of the kind of polite merriment fancy people got up to lead him to the banquet hall where he was supposed meet his date for the night. They’d worked together before but this was the first time they’d be alone together.

As he sauntered in, he scanned the low lit room hoping to find his companion. Intimate tables covered in white cloths were set up three deep around the large dancefloor that dominated the space. Each one looked big enough for only two, or maybe three people if they were comfortable with shoulders touching. They were set in an alternating grid pattern with plenty of space for wait staff to wind through them. Booths were set along opposing walls on a slight elevation with space enough to fit six comfortably. Though the big spenders currently seated in them were either alone or with one or two other guests. The bar was built into the wall, its backlit glass tabletop provided most of the light for back of the room. It was set about a table length away from the last row of intimate tables.

“What can I get you, handsome?” the bartender asked as Silvio straddled one of the backless stools.

He was cute. If it were another night, Silvio definitely would’ve turned up his Italian charm and convinced the brown-eyed bartender to spend a few of his off hours in Silvio’s suite. As it was, he’d have to settle for watching the bartender’s muscles work as he mixed whatever was in the silver cocktail shaker he currently pumped one handed.

“I’ll have a bottle of the house merlot brought to my table. But for now a glass will do, please.” Silvio replied.

“Bottle’s on me,” the bartender winked. Silvio watched as the bartender’s nimble hickory colored fingers pulled the stemless wine glass down from the cabinet behind his head with a flourish. His forearm muscles bunched ever so slightly as he pulled the stopper from the chilled bottle of merlot. Silvio was only treated to the sight because of the bartender’s rolled sleeves, exposing more of his smooth brown skin.

“You don’t have to do that,” Silvio said.

The bartender poured the glass with a heavy hand and a confident smile that revealed a competing set of dimples, “It’s my pleasure.” His voice melted over Silvio like honey.

“Thank you,” Silvio responded with a small smile. As he took the glass, his fingers brushed against the bartender’s for a brief moment.

Silvio, in an effort keep himself from hopping over the bar to pin the bartender against the nearest wall, turned around to face the large open space. Several couples twirled around the dancefloor, lost in the rhythm of the orchestral music. Elsewhere, couples sat huddled around their tables, their faces illuminated by the incandescent light from the small lamps in the center of each table.

Suddenly, there she was. The stemless glass slipped from his grip as she slid in next to him like she were always there. It was only thanks to her quick reflexes the glass didn’t shatter. Her nails shimmered like prisms as she brought the glass to her ruby red lips. If he thought the bartender looked like a fantasy, she was a fever dream. Her black hair was pulled back into an elegant bun with a few stray locks flying freely to frame her face. Her almond shaped eyes scanned the room as she sipped the wine. The dress she wore clung to her in ways my suit could only dream of. Each of her movements was emphasized by the sparkles of her dress catching the light as she turned to set the now empty glass on the counter. She was all long limbs and curves and confidence. Silvio had never wanted anything more in his life.

“How did you know merlot was my favorite?” she purred. Without waiting for a response, she went on. “I’m Hana Irvani, nice to officially meet you, Marchetti.” She took his arm and pressed herself in close. “You can stop looking so shell-shocked,” she chuckled. “You’re pretty, too.”

That drew a laugh from him. “Thank you for the compliment,” he replied.

“So, where are we?”

He subtly pointed at the booth directly across from the entrance. “You see that guy?” he asked, referring to the sweaty chubby guy squeezed into the booth. The man checked his watch at least three times in the moment they watched him. Hana nodded. “We’re at the table in front of him.”

“Lead the way, handsome.”

Silvio couldn’t help watching the way Hana strutted across the room. Her footing was sure almost as if she willed the ground to be beneath her feet at each step. Even when a waiter almost collided with her, lost in her beauty as he was, she simply whirled us both out of the way as if we were on the dance floor. As soon as they sat down at the table, the bartender from earlier had arrived with the bottle of Merlot in hand.

“Enjoy your evening,” he proposed with a wink directed at both of us. He was working very hard for a tip.

“Thank you,” Hana smirked.

Silvio may have been watching the way the bartender’s pants stretched as his hips swayed away, but he noticed the two men who just entered the venue. Dressed in dark jeans and leather jackets, if their clothes didn’t scream trouble then the scowls they wore definitely did. Hana watched as they seemingly approached their table, veering off at the last moment to crowd into the booth behind them with the sweaty man.

“Has it been that long for you?” she asked.

Silvio’s attention shifted to Hana’s knowing brown eyes. “Just admiring the view,” he acknowledged.

“He definitely is cute. Maybe the three of us could have some fun.” A smirk splayed across her face as she pulled her makeup compact from the small bag Silvio just realized she carried.

If Silvio didn’t already love her, he was definitely beginning to. “This is turning out to be a great date so far!”

Hana chuckled as she pretended to fiddle with her makeup. She was flawless, anyone could see that but holding up a mirror just for the hell of it would draw attention they didn’t need. It was obvious to Silvio she was watching the men behind them.

“Right or left?” she offered.

“Right,” he answered.

“You’re leaving the big guy for me? That’s so sweet!” She exclaimed sincerely.

With a smile, Silvio instinctively patted his breast pocket where his gun was strapped tightly to his body, concealed by his blazer. He’d done this many times before but he still got butterflies in his stomach. His cicerone always told him nothing was worse than a man without fear, people got hurt that way. It was a pretty ironic statement given their line of work.

“Did you want the bottle?” Silvio asked.

She slipped an elegant set of electrified white gold knuckles on either hand. They went with her dress and everything. If Silvio didn’t have a set of his own he would’ve assumed they were a fancy set of rings. “Nah, you take it.”

Silvio got up from the table with an exaggerated stumble. He grabbed the bottle by the neck, hiding it behind his thigh as he staggered across the short distance to the booth directly behind them. He feigned a trip and fell into the booth next to the smaller guy. Hana approached the table appearing apologetic, calming the stirred tensions. People at the other tables actively looked away from them, not wanting to get caught in the drama.

Hana slipped in next to the big guy as they were distracted with pushing me out of the booth. A few well-placed electrified hits to his pressure points knocked him out. When he slumped forward the smaller guy forgot about me which gave me the opening to crack the bottle on his temple. It wasn’t pretty but it worked. Sweaty guy handed over the flash drive without a fight. Mission accomplished.

“Kinda surprised this didn’t break,” he said. Silvio held up the cracked bottle between them as they walked along the promenade back to his hotel. “I hit him hard.”

“Bottles are stronger than they look in movies,” Hana chuckled. “Is that the bartender?” Hana pointed out the familiar man waiting at a crosswalk slightly ahead of them.

“Were you serious earlier?” he asked.

She nodded. They made their way over to the bartender. Silvio looped an arm around his strong shoulders. “Merlot?” he offered, holding up the bottle. The bartender smiled at both of them as Hana looped her arm around his.