Dear Diary - The Bottle

I stepped out of the bathroom just as the doorbell rang. I paused at the full-length mirror in my bedroom to be sure my dress was hanging properly and smoothed the fabric with my hands. I slid my feet into the gloss black pumps I'd sat out, the ones with the three-inch heel, the highest I owned. I looked at myself one more time, and nodded with a smile. I might be forty-three years old, but I still had it. Satisfied that I was well turned out, I stepped out of the bedroom.

I opened the front door and David was standing there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. "Hello, David. Want to come in for a second? I just need to grab the wine."

I stepped back and held the door in silent invitation, but David didn't move. I watched him for a pair of heartbeats, puzzled over his reaction, then he seemed to shake himself and smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you look stunning!"

I melted at his compliment. I'd taken up tennis after my divorce to work off frustrations, trim down and tone up, and it'd worked. I knew men found me attractive, but David's compliment seemed to be more than idle flattery because he looked positively gob-smacked. I smiled, both at the compliment and the fact the dress was having the desired effect.

Made from silk, the cyan fabric had a slight sheen that had caught my eye in the store. The dress was cut low enough in front to show off the swell of my breasts, but not so low that it was tacky. Thin spaghetti straps showed off my arms, shoulders and neck as it fell into a deep plunge at the back. The dress was long, stopping halfway between my knees and my ankles, and fit snuggly enough to show off my curves, while the slit in the side played peek-a-boo with my leg as I walked and made the dress comfortable. I'd purchased the dress over a year ago, but this was the first time I'd worn it since trying it on.

"Thank you, David. You clean up pretty nice yourself."

He was decked out in black pants, a medium blue blazer with a shirt of such pale blue that I first thought it was white, and a delicately patterned silk tie that split the difference in color between his blazer and shirt. A kerchief that matched his shirt peeked from his breast pocket. The color combination suited him and made him look good enough to eat.

He smiled as he stepped inside. "Normally I'm not so..." Instead of finishing his sentence, he trailed off.

I giggled at his awkwardness, his reaction and the resulting embarrassment the best compliment he could have paid me. I gave him a pat on the chest as I beamed. "I bet you aren't, and that makes it quite a compliment." I took the flowers and smelled them. "These are beautiful. Thank you very much. Make yourself comfortable while I put these in some water. Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks," he replied as he checked out my house.

I'd bought the place a few years before. The house wasn't large, but it was mine, and with only me living in it, I'd decorated it exactly as I wanted. The house had an open floorplan with a single large space that served as family room, dining room, and kitchen. My ex-husband had been a packrat, and the resulting clutter had driven me crazy. Maybe it was because of that my house had only a few tasteful decorations and pieces of art.

As he sauntered over to me, I filled a vase with water, freed the roses from their wrapping, and placed them in their container. I adjusted a few to my satisfaction before sitting them on the counter that served as a visual separator between the kitchen and the rest of the room. Placed there they were in plain sight and I could admire them again when I got home.

"First wine, now roses. If it's chocolate next, I might have to marry you," I teased as I adjusted a few more of the buds so they looked their best.

He picked up the bottle sitting on the counter and stuck his elbow out like an old-fashioned movie star. I smiled and slid my arm through the opening and snuggled in close as we walked to the door. He certainly knew how to treat a lady. He waited while I locked up, then stuck his elbow out again. I took his arm and he led me to the most beautiful car I'd ever seen.

I'd seen the car somewhere before, but I couldn't recall where. It was low and sleek, with a long hood and a roof that swooped gracefully to the tail. It was painted in a stunning silver and had elegant wire wheels.

"What a wonderful car. What is it?"

He opened my door and held my hand as I slithered into sumptuous black leather bucket seat. Once I had my feet in, he shut the door and walked around to the other side.

"It's a 1964 Aston Martin DB5," he said with a smile as he folded himself under the wooden steering wheel.

"Wow! Almost fifty years old and it still looks like this. I'm impressed! Where have I seen this car before?"

"This is my car, so nowhere. I only get it out for special occasions. But you've seen a car like this in the movies. James Bond drove a car like this one."

I snapped my fingers and waggled my first digit at the roof as it clicked into place. "That's right!"

I didn't know a lot about cars, but this thing had to be hugely expensive, and if he'd gotten it out to impress me, it'd worked. He started the car and gave the throttle a small blip, making the engine snarl. The sound of the car was like nothing I'd heard before, the engine note raw and mechanical sounding.

"Wow, I could get used to that sound. Do it again."

This time he gave the car a full measure of boot, causing it to howl its war cry before crackling back to idle.

"Oh... my... God... This car is sex on wheels," I said, then fanned myself for effect. "Sorry, but what a sound. Can we just skip dinner and ride around in this car?"

He laughed at my teasing, a sound I liked very much. "How about we take the long way home?" he suggested.

I looked at him. Now that I knew the connection, he even looked a little like Bond, dark and handsome in his dapper suit and this fantastic car. As tempting as the idea sounded, I wasn't sure I wanted anything delaying us from getting back home... and into my bed. I pushed the thought aside. It was fun to imagine, but I barely knew the man.

"That'd be wonderful."

"Would you like to drive?"

"Drive this?" I squeaked. The car was obviously his pride and joy, and yet he was offering to let me drive it. "I'd love to, David, but I can't drive a stick shift." My disappointment was almost crushing.

"I'll teach you."

I was touched by his offer, and I hoped meant it, because I really would like to drive this car, just once. "Maybe some other time. But not in this dress and heels."

He put the car into reverse and backed down the drive and into the street. "Are you busy tomorrow?" he asked as the car stopped and he snicked it a gear, pulling away from my house with a roar that made me want to fan myself again.

"Don't you think we should get through tonight before we make plans for tomorrow? You may find out you can't get rid of me fast enough." God, I hoped that wouldn't be true.

He chuckled as he rowed the car up through the gears. "I suppose, but can I at least pencil it in?"

I giggled. "Sure. Tomorrow."

During the drive to the restaurant, we talked a little about ourselves, getting to know each other to fill the time. I told him about my job as a real estate lawyer and how I had a passion for tennis, wine, and food. I found out that he played as well, and we agreed that if everything went well tonight, we'd get together for a match.

David was less forthcoming. Though he would readily talk about himself and his past, he dodged the question of what he did now. At first, I thought it was because he was involved in something shady, but as we talked, I decided that it was more likely because he was working on some secret project, some kind of business deal he didn't want to talk about. I couldn't be sure, but reading between the lines, I got the impression that he'd cashed out of a tech company he owned or had been instrumental in setting up. I was guessing the company had gone big, and he was now pouring his personal fortune into another venture.

He turned into a strip mall and glided the car to a stop in front a small restaurant on the end. It wasn't what I was expecting based on how he'd built the place up. As he opened my door, took my hand, and helped me out of the car, I shook off my disappointment and resolved to not judge the place on appearances.

He opened the door to the restaurant. "Marco is expecting you. I'm going to park the car and then I'll be right back."

I entered the small, cozy, restaurant. Just inside, a large man beamed at me.

"You must be Lillian, yes?" the man asked in a heavy Italian accent.

"That's right. I'm here with David..." I stopped, realizing I couldn't remember David's last name.

"Yes, I know. David said he was bringing the most beautiful woman in the universe to dinner, and now you are here." He smiled broadly. "Please, this way."

The man escorted me to a small table in the back where an ice bucket was waiting. As we moved through the restaurant, I admired the simple but pleasing décor of brilliant white tablecloths, rich red napkins, and comfortable looking chairs. The food on the tables we passed all looked delicious, and the occasional whiff I caught smelled even better.

"This okay?" Marco asked, taking the bottle from me and placing it in the ice bucket before pulling out my chair.

I nodded and smiled. "This is fine, thank you."

I'd just settled into my chair and picked up my menu when David entered the restaurant.

"You met Marco?" he asked as he settled into the chair across from me.

"What a flirt. Did you really tell him you were bringing the most beautiful woman in the world to dinner?"

"Is that what he said?" he asked as he flushed slightly. "Something like that. I think I said universe, but yeah, I said that. I didn't know he was going to tell you, though."

My heart skipped a beat. I'd intentionally changed universe to world to see if I could trip him up, to find out if he'd really said that or if Marco was building him up, and now I felt slightly guilty for the deception. Before I could respond, Marco appeared again. He fussed around the table, flirting with me, prattling on with David, and making menu suggestions as he opened the wine. Marco pour some into our two glasses, and David immediately picked his glass up to take a sip. I couldn't help myself, and I giggled. He really didn't know anything about wine.

"What?" he asked, holding his glass like a brandy snifter.

"Let it breathe a little before you drink it," I instructed. "It'll taste better. Also, hold the glass by the stem so your hand doesn't warm it. You really don't know anything about wine, do you?" I asked, making sure I kept my tone jaunty so he'd know I wasn't condemning him.

"Not a thing," he admitted as he sat the glass back on the table.

"It's okay. I just find it amusing you'd spend so much money on a wine you knew nothing about."

"I did it for you," he said, then got a strange look on his face. "What I mean is—" he began, obviously trying to backpedal.

I gave him a pat on the hand. I found his slight bumbling charming. So many successful men were arrogant pricks, and I'd had my fill of those. "I know what you mean. David, tell me something honestly. Are you nervous? You act nervous."

He blushed furiously. "I guess I am a little nervous."

"Don't be nervous. I won't bite," I said, trying to put him at ease.

Panty wetting handsome, obviously intelligent, and most of the time he carried himself like the strong, confident man he probably was. And yet, when it came to the dating part of dealing with me, he seemed off his game, and it was like catnip. I wasn't sure what it was about me that had him rocked back on his heels, but he was charming the pants off me without even trying. I smiled, my heart going out to him. Anyone that didn't enjoy wine was missing out on one of life's great pleasures, so I decided to help him along.

"Just relax and enjoy dinner. You'll want to order something with rich hearty flavors to go with this wine. I'm going to have the lasagna, but any of the beef or cheese dishes will be good. I recommend you stay away from white sauces."

He nodded. "Marco's lasagna is excellent. I'll have that as well."

I picked up my glass, holding it by the stem, and waited until he realized I wanted him to do the same. "Now... swirl the glass like this," I said as I rolled my wrist, causing the wine to circle around the glass in a wave. "This releases the bouquet, the smell, and aerates it for flavor."

When he did as I instructed, I tipped the glass and held it close to my nose. I closed my eyes so I could focus, the rich bouquet making me smile. "Oh, that's nice," I purred. "This wine has a strong bouquet, so it'll have intense flavors."

I waited until David did the same. He nodded, but I could tell he had no idea what he was doing or smelling. I bit my bottom lip to hide my mirth. It was clear I'd just have to enjoy the wine enough for both of us.

I swirled the glass again. "See how the wine runs down the side of the glass? That tells you the body of the wine. The heavier the body, the deeper and more robust the flavors. This wine has a heavy body."

I tipped the glass and held it up to the light. As I did, I noticed how he was looking at me. A tingle passed through me that had nothing to do with this magnificent wine.

"Next, check the color," I continued. "See how dark this wine is? That means it's an older, more aged wine. Finally, the best part, the taste."

I held my glass up and out. I had to wait a moment, until he was paying attention to something other than me. He finally realized what he was supposed to do and grinned as he picked up his glass, by the stem this time, and touched it against mine. I took a sip, allowing the liquid to sit on my tongue a moment as my eyes closed in pleasure. The wine was everything I'd hoped it would be.

"Not bad," he said before setting his glass back on the table.

I couldn't help it. With a mock sigh of resignation, my head dropped forward until my chin hit my chest. I looked up with a grin. "A six-hundred-dollar bottle of wine, and 'not bad' he says." I gave him my best smile to take the sting out of my words.

He smiled, making dimples appear. "That's why you deserve this wine, and I don't."

I snickered and held my glass to him in salute. We ordered, and as dinner progressed, David began to loosen up. For the first time, I could truly see the man he was... smart, funny, and self-confident. That made his initial awkwardness with me even more charming. It made me feel like a princess.

David was right. The lasagna was exceptional, perhaps the best I'd ever had, and the paring with the wine was truly excellent, the flavors complementing each other perfectly. Despite my encouragement, he would only drink one glass. I knew it wasn't the quality, and he claimed he liked it, but he would only refill my glass. I damn sure wasn't going to let the rest of the bottle go to waste, so I finished it myself, taking my time to savor it.

When dinner was over, I was feeling wonderfully warm and relaxed by the great food, fantastic wine, and outstanding company. In the eight years since my divorce I'd been on numerous dates, some of them with very eligible men, but as we prepared to leave, I couldn't recall enjoying an evening more than this one. My judgement was a bit clouded by the drink, so we were halfway to the door before I realized he hadn't paid.

"Wait, what about the check?"

"The bill's already taken care of," he replied, still guiding me toward the door.

"But..." I began, then held my tongue.

I knew the alcohol was beginning to affect me and I struggled to recall if I'd seem him pay. The more I thought about it, the surer I was he hadn't. After Marco cleared our table, he'd left us mostly alone. Still, I wasn't going to argue because it was possible I was wrong.

"Okay. Want me to pay my half?" I offered, wanting to be a good sport.

He made a dismissive sound, grinned, but said nothing else as he continued moving me toward the door. I was grateful for his support. I wasn't stumbling drunk, but in my heels, I could definitely feel the effect of the wine.

As he drove me home I could feel sleep pulling at me but I forced myself to stay awake. It wouldn't be polite to fall asleep on the first date and I had plans for him when we got home. He wheeled the car into my drive, killed the engine, then hurried around to my door and helped me out. We walked to the front door and I felt a pleasant moistness between my legs. It had been a long time since a man had affected me like this.

I unlocked the door, then turned, tipped my head back, and opened my lips slightly, silently inviting him to kiss me. The wine was knocking down my inhibition, but I didn't care. I hadn't been with anyone in months, and I wanted him. He smiled and leaned down, his lips closing over mine, but his kiss was chaste. I wanted more, so much more, and I opened my mouth in invitation, but instead of taking my tongue, he gently extracted himself from the kiss. I looked at him, confused.

"I enjoyed my evening, Lillian, I really did. I'd like to see you again," he said, the nervousness back.

It wasn't quite as charming this time. I wanted him, and he was going to give me a smooch then leave? Like hell! I looked deep into his eyes and I could see the desire raging there, but also something else. A reserve. No matter. If he wasn't going to make the first move, then I would.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

I kept my tone soft and feminine, not wanting to come across as a bossy bitch. This was uncharacteristically bold for me, but Goddammit, I wanted him! I watched his face and I saw first excitement, then reluctance, but underneath it all, desire. He wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, so I didn't understand his hesitation.

"I want to, Lillian. I want to more than you'd believe, but I can't."

"Why?" I asked, keeping the shattering disappointment out of my voice.

"I don't know if you really want me to stay... or if it's the wine talking."

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

He held my gaze, the self-confident David fully on display. I couldn't explain it. He was reluctant to fuck me because he was afraid he'd be taking advantage of me? I was tipsy, sure, but I knew what I was doing. Didn't I? The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if my judgment was more impaired than I understood, and I realized what a gentleman he was being. Maybe I was more intoxicated than I suspected. I still wanted him, wanted him desperately, but having him deny himself my body, a body he clearly wanted, warmed me in ways the wine never could. I tried to imagine any of my other dates doing what David was doing now, and I couldn't. Dammit! I wanted him, and having him reject my advance for my own good made me want him even more.

"Will you at least give me a proper good night kiss?" I finally asked.

He smiled, stepped in close, pulled me to him, and took my lips without hesitation. Now this was a proper kiss, and I again opened my lips in invitation. This time he needed no encouragement, and each time I increased the heat of our kiss he matched it, until he was kissing me like I'd rarely been kissed before. Our tongues engaged in a slow dance as he held me against his body, my arms around his neck, and I loved the feel of his contained strength as he held me tight.

When I had my fill, he allowed me to disengage and I slowly pulled back. I was burning in desire, his kiss fanning the flames of my passion. He obviously knew what he was doing when he kissed me, and I wondered what else he could do. Yeah, the wine was probably lubricating my desires, but I wasn't so far gone I couldn't recognize the sweet and noble gesture he was making, and it touched me.