Brian
The Third Date
Part 1
The ending credits were rolling and Brian retrieved his arm
from around my shoulders. We’d been sitting on the couch enjoying The Princess
Bride yet again, taking turns heckling the actors on the screen. It was one of
the weird quirks we had in common. When we figured it out on our first date and
we quickly decided that we would watch the film together.
It was Friday night and Brian’s housemate was tending bar
until 2am so we knew we’d still have a good amount of time to ourselves. Since
it was now only about 9:30, I did wonder what Brian had planned for the rest of
the evening together. He leaned over and kissed me gently on the forehead then
stood up. As he made his way toward the television screen to turn off the movie
my eyes followed his firm bottom, admiring his looks all around.
He was of average height; about 5’10” and he wore his dark
hair short and clean. He was muscular and solid but with a soft layer that looked
like he might put on weight if he ever gave up his regular workouts. Small wire
framed glasses completed his clean-cut look and gave the outward but well
deserved look of intelligence. He’d shown me pictures of when his hair was long
and shaggy, but it went with the bad boy image he spent hours consciously cultivating.
Most striking were his bright hazel eyes, the sort that seemed to change color
in different light.
In the dim living room his eyes seemed dark, almost green,
as he turned away from the television and caught my eye. I could see a sparkle
of reflection in his eyes from the streetlamps outside through the large
picture window to my right. He seemed to be contemplating something. There was
the tiniest crease between his eyebrows. He was fidgety, almost nervous, but
with a sense of confidence in his movements. I smiled back at him with what I
hoped was an expression of patience and reassurance. This might only be our
third date, but I’d already learned that he would make a choice in his own good
time.
That’s how he worked. He made the decisions about what we
were going to do on our dates, the where and the when. He picked me up, opened
the doors, and told me when to be ready for him. All I had to do was say yes.
It was chivalrous and a little old fashioned but I liked it. I assumed that
since he hadn’t told me his plans for the evening past dinner and the movie
that he’d either not yet decided or had decided not to tell me. Based on how he
was moving and glancing at me over his shoulder I chose to believe he knew what
he wanted, but that for some reason he was unsure of his next move. Filled with
curiosity, I studied his movements.
Instead of turning on any of the lights near the couch he
moved into the adjoining dining room to relight the candles that I’d blown out
after dinner. I’d cleared the dishes from our meal into the kitchen, but on the
table were the wine glasses and the half full bottle of red. I followed him.
“Another glass?” he said, lifting the bottle and his
eyebrows.
“Sure,” I smiled, and he poured two glasses.
He gestured toward the seat at the end of the table
intending for me to follow his direction and seat myself upon it. He’d pulled
it out from the table and turned it sideways. Still standing he handed me my
glass of wine. I saw the corner of his mouth turn up with just a hint of a
smirk as he settled his strong, square shoulders. He’d come to a decision then.
Brian picked up a second chair for himself and placed it
facing mine. He sat close enough that he was able to trap both of my knees
between his. I would have had to push my chair back or lift my leg up over his
if I’d wanted to try to get away. Good thing I hadn’t the slightest desire to
do that. I’d dressed casually for our date at his home tonight in a denim
skirt, heels, which were long gone, and a light fitted cotton blouse. I wrapped
my bare leg around his telling him with my body that I liked how close he was
to me.
He waited until I’d had a sip of my wine before he took the
glass from my hand and set it on the table, his own untouched. He cupped both
my small hands within his own, not yet meeting my eye. He seemed to be
examining my hands very closely, his thumbs rubbing mine gently but he wasn’t
really looking at them. He appeared to be thinking hard, trying to decide what
he wanted to say. I could see that he was absentmindedly trapping his lower lip
between his teeth, a habit he never seemed to notice. I waited, giving him
space.
His hands closed over mine firmly as he raised his head,
hazel candlelit eyes meeting my deep brown ones. Although he searched my eyes
as though to see inside my mind, his face held no trace of indecision or
concern.
“I’d like to ask you something,” he started.
I gave him a small smile and an almost imperceptible nod,
saying nothing.
“I want to blindfold you,” he stated.
I felt the sharp intake of breath and my hands jerked
slightly in reflexive surprise. He relaxed the pressure of his legs on mine but
not his hands. He held both my hands together in his even more firmly. His body
language was gentle but certain, and touched with the smallest sense of
urgency. My mouth opened involuntarily in response to the first few thoughts in
my mind, but no words made it out. I closed it.
How could he
know? I thought to myself. How
could he have any idea that I liked blindfolds. He didn’t know, I realized. He was asking me because he
wanted it. I searched his face and realized that he was concerned. He was
watching me carefully to judge my reaction, thinking perhaps that I would panic
or pull away, or look at him in confusion. I kept my face carefully still as my
thoughts were whirling. Do I tell him? How do I explain?
I closed my eyes, relaxed my hands still held in his, and took a deep
breath. I let out my breath completely. One side of my mouth turned up into
half a grin as I opened my eyes and met his.
“That was not a question,” I said, smartly.
His entire body relaxed as though he’d been holding his breath. Maybe
he had been.
“No, it wasn’t,” he chuckled, “but I’ll have an answer from you
anyway.”
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