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They Probably Think I Am an Escort

A First Date Story

By theKlaunPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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They Probably Think I Am an Escort
Photo by Jeff Siepman on Unsplash

“They probably think I am an escort,” she said.

“What?”

“Well, you know, it’s evident I am younger than you and the way I am dressed.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Yeah, I’ve got my tits out; I look like an escort.”

It was their first date. He had got to hers in a taxi. He had brought her roses and she had giggled at them and had showed them to her mum. While they were on the taxi, she had posted a photo of the flowers on social media. They had reached the restaurant, a nice Italian restaurant, because he was Italian so he thought it had to be Italian. The waiter had sat her down and then he had given them menus. He had asked her to choose the wine, because he thought it was the right thing to do. She had chosen a Merlot. The waiter had poured her a sip of wine to taste it and, when she had said the wine was fine (she hadn’t said very good or bad, just fine), the waiter had looked at him. He had given him a smile, so the waiter had shrugged imperceptibly and poured a glass for both of them. It was when the waiter had left with their food order that she had started looking around her.

He changed the subject asking her how her day had been. They had met at work and he hadn’t really liked her at the very beginning. She was loud, self-centred and always made sure everyone knew she was in the room. She was a manager, like him, but they were quite different. She had told someone under him that if she didn’t like the way things were she could just leave. He hadn’t liked that and he had told her. He had a tendency to treat the people in his team as human beings, instead. He wasn’t argumentative. He didn’t like to argue at all. He felt like she was trying to argue now.

She was complaining about her mother, because her mother didn’t trust her and kept going through her drawers and bags. He thought it was understandable considering she was a recovering cocaine addict. Her mother had reasons to check on her and maybe was trying to look for reassurances. Maybe she did it because she wanted to believe her daughter was really and finally out of it. But he didn’t say anything. She was being loud about it too. He was the one looking around the room now, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

One day at work someone had made her cry. He had found her outside in a corner. She had told him she had been shouted because she had made a suggestion. Unfortunately, the person she had made the suggestion to was notorious for always being right, or thinking he was. So, of course, they had clashed. He was tall and imposing, she was short and well-shaped. She had felt intimidated so she had walked out for a cigarette. That’s where he had found her. For the first time, in those tears, he had found her human, fragile. He felt he had met the real person behind all of the posturing and the arrogance, and that person was hiding behind a shaking cigarette. It was in that moment he had started to fall for her. And he wasn’t going to regret it.

They had started messaging. She had been upfront about her drug abuse and the things she had done to get money for the drugs. She had told him about a boyfriend that had tried to suffocate her during sex because that’s how he got it up. She had told him about her one true love that had broken her heart. (Yes, he had felt then a sense of defeat because he knew he could never replace the “one true love.” But he was not going to give up.) She had told him about how damaged she was; and that was what really got him. He was affected by the syndrome of the hero. He was naturally understanding and trusting. He told her he didn’t care about her past as long as it stayed past. He liked her. He didn’t tell her that he was also flattered that a woman ten years younger than him had found an interest in him. She was the perfect dark princess to save and he would secretly be the wise hero that would help her on her way to redemption. Of course, he didn’t say any of that to her, but who knows, maybe she did not. Would she take advantage of him? She probably would find him patronising, and she would be right. He was he to save anyone?

He sipped at his Merlot. He swore to himself he could taste plums. Or maybe it was because he was staring at her chest. It was conspicuous, but he quickly rejected his own shallowness and looked into her blue eyes and her blond hair and her high cheekbones. She didn’t like her eyes because they were too small and girls’ eyes are supposed to be big so men can fall into them. He adored, however, the diamond shapes hidden behind her cheekbones. He loved to caress her cheekbones, but she didn’t like to be touched much.

After eating their food, he took her present from his jacket. He didn’t know what to say, so he said:

“It’s for you.” The redundancy of that statement didn’t escape either of them. But her eyes had a spark in them and her lips opened onto her pretty, imperfect teeth. He felt warm at that smile and smiled to himself and to her. He helped putting the necklace around her neck and the green pendant falling between her breasts. He felt overwhelmed by her beauty. In that instant he felt that everything was going to be alright.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, and she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

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About the Creator

theKlaun

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