Sips

    Open the door for her. Escort her to a host. Be escorted to a table where he can start the show - the main attraction to any date, he was sure.

    How long he had to wait for the perfect moment to court her; the perfect moment to whisk her away into a life of pampered luxury. He just needed that chance, that brief second in time where he could steal her attention from the book she always had her nose in; some sort of romance novel, from what he saw of the image of Casanova on the front cover. Now, he was her main focus; only him. Her silver eyes were frozen in awe each time he made contact.

    The restraunt was small, but nothing to scoff at; only the best for his new date. The interior's main theme was a quaint, Italian palette of burgundy, ivory, and emerald. Silken curtains framed the windows that twinkled with the twilight city lights beyond. Elegant lamps centered on each small table glowed a warm hue of fiery yellow, accompanied by modest chandeliers of similar radiating light. The trembling young man did his best to pull his date's chair out from under the table, sliding it along the tiled floor with minimal sound. There, she plopped into the seat, patiently waiting as her polite date pushed her back to the table, maybe a tad too close; nerves were diabolical in these situations. Still, the two laughed it off and adjusted accordingly.

    When he took his seat, only then did he find the chance to truly admire the woman before him. Her olive skin was complimented by her long, dark locks that draped around her back and shoulders in tender waves much like wine trickling from its bottle. Her plump lips and curvy frame were decorated in a single, crimson-burgundy color that the resturaunt's atmosphere could only venerate. Her moderate jewelry twinkled like the condensation building on a cold glass, whilst she and her date held brilliant conversation; animated with laughter and candid interest in his words. She was a fragrant glass of merlot, and he wanted to drink the whole bottle. If only she would speak more about herself, but he couldn't deny the pleasure of her persistant engrossment.

    A nearby crash of dishes reminded the two that they had yet to order anything, to which the man summoned their host. Upon ordering his own selection of tantalizing dishes, the man noticed that his date was acting rather shy over what she should choose, but he could see in her locked eyes that she wanted him to surprise her. He knew what was good at this place, anyway.

    A round of beverages in tall, dainty glasses were promptly provided. The couple found themselves in laughter and one-sided chatter again, awkwardly joking how it took so long for the host to come by and take their orders - and how he and the host looked so much alike. It was nice to hear others chime with delight nearby, enjoying their own meals and conversations - no matter the reason for their being there tonight. In ways, the man and woman thought of it as an addition to their intrigue with each other; echoes of their own joy and pleasure. The rumble of voices entwining together, the ocassional clinking of utensils against plates, the trickle of spirits falling into glass; all creating an atmosphere perfect for sipping away at the glass of merlot in front of him. Slowly, the man learned more about his date than he ever had, even if she barely spoke at all. He felt a connection that was obviously mutual in her eyes. The very fact that this woman could say nothing at all and still portray each thought was what attracted him the most.

    Even with such a productive night, the time to exit the restraunt came sooner than desired. The man and woman walked out, if only on the verge of buzzing from their share of wine, but the drunkeness of attraction was heavy. Still, they remained modest and poised; holding hands and enjoying each other's company as the man escorted his date to the summoned car. Perhaps coincidence or fate, neither of them knew - nor did they care - why it took them so long to notice each other while residing in the same apartment building. Now was better than never, right?

    The man walked his glass of merlot to her door, hoping to take one last sip for the night. They giggled and refused to unlock their clasped hands as she unlocked her home. A gentle, inviting tug inside, as they closed in on each other for a kiss goodnight, but he gave hault to the building flame of passion with a finger to her lips. Tenderly, he kissed his digit as it rested on the rim of his beloved glass. Not tonight; not on the first date; to him, to move so quickly would ruin the flavor of merlot. Their relationship had to be slow and teasing; it had to age with patience and careful admiration. She knew it, too, with the smile that spread over her velvety lips and a soft narrowing of her silvery eyes. She was hoping for someone to let her heart age with love, embracing her with a nuturing sense of protection; her missing ingredient to a perfect dish; her glass to a bottle; her barrel to her wine.