His light-hearted humor easily put me in a stress-free state of mind. “I’ll be fine.”
We shared a romantic dinner in a restaurant that neither of us had ever been to before. His jocular personality and calm approach toward life easily stripped away any residual stress or frustration I may have brought to dinner.
Many times throughout our meal, my mind slipped back to my apartment and the feelings he aroused in me. Several times, I had to ask him to repeat something he had just said because my mind was lost in fantasies of him.
“You have no idea what that look does to me.”
I coyly asked, “And... exactly what look would that be?”
Reaching across the table, he picked up each of my hands in his and gazed lovingly into my eyes.
“The look that says you want to share yourself with me the same way I want to share myself with you.”
His eyes were scorching, burning their way straight into my heart. Every emotion, every ache and need, every tingle and sensation I felt, were laid out for him to see.
“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I only have to think about the way you kissed me back at the apartment and I feel an unexpected shiver. Yes, I do want us to enjoy each other, but I can wait until it all falls into place.” Lowering my voice, I said, “Besides, I’m kind of enjoying the prelude.”
He gave my hands a squeeze as our server returned to offer dessert. We each declined and when his attention returned to me, my look was more serious. I fidgeted with my napkin in thought.
“Do things seem to be going too fast. I mean, I was with Brian for three years and nothing felt right, I’ve been with you for a week and everything feels right. Should we slow down?”
He picked my hands up again. “What is the proper length of time to wait before... say... a goodnight kiss... or how long should people wait for family introductions... and sex, I’d really like to know what the time frame is for that one....” He kissed each hand. “Meg, I don’t think about those things, I feel them. I know it hasn’t been long, but what I feel for you is real. If you prefer to wait, take things slow, I’ll give you that time. I never want you to feel rushed or pushed into something you don’t want to do.”
He removed money from his wallet and picked up the check. “Instead,” he said playfully, “I can come to your grandparent’s house every Tuesday night, eat dinner and spend the rest of the evening watching TV, say goodnight at the door and call you once or twice through the week for a whole year. After that year, we can spend another year attending church together and going to a movie on Friday nights and somewhere during that time, I’ll work up the nerve to put my arm around you. About the same time we work up to three dates a week, I’ll give you your first goodnight kiss at your grandparent’s door, until your grandfather flips the light on and pretends he didn’t know we were out there...”
Wrapping my arm through his, I cut in, “And before our next date, I’d say, ‘how about we pick up the pace a little and get to the good stuff’?”
He laughed out-loud. “Touché.”
~ ~ ~
I peeked through one partially open eye as I strained to open the other one. It wasn’t very bright in the room and without seeing the clock, I wondered if it was a dismal day or if I had awoken much earlier than usual.
Unable to stay due to an early morning flight, Con left shortly after dropping me off the night before. Although disappointed, I used the free time to run through everything I would say to his grandfather when I confronted him later today.
Joker was volatile. No matter how many times I rehearsed my speech, his sharp tongue and liverish personality had the ability to change the direction of our conversation at any given time, leaving me to improvise and unfortunately, spontaneity was not my forte.
I spent almost two hours trying on clothes and hairstyles in an attempt to find the right look for the occasion. I didn’t want to come off as insecure or intolerable but I wanted to leave no doubt in his mind that I was a force to be reckoned with and wouldn’t be put off by his obnoxious outbursts.
At least that was my intention.
Checking in with Marco was the only stop I made on my way out of the city. I knew if I were going to do this at all, I would have to do it while my adrenaline still pumped from our last meeting or I’d run the risk of losing my nerve altogether.
The road to Willoughby Manor was long and I drove slowly, once again taking in the magnificence of it. There was irony hidden in its utter beauty. It was a picture of paradise from a surreal dream, occupied by the villain of a nightmarish reality.