jamie_stringer ([info]jamie_stringer) wrote,
@ 2005-09-18 11:16:00
Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Current mood: excited
Current music:something sort of reggae

Dinner Date

After hanging up the phone I look at my notebook where I've frantically scribbled "Get LIMES, SPEARMINT LEAVES, and RUM!!"  right underneath "Failed lie detector - Talk to Ethel Ferrara Apt #15 - Blood on floor mat" and three enormous question marks.  Hopefully the market by my apartment will still be open. 

I walk there, enjoying the fresh chill that September is bringing and stop at the market.  I'm in luck.  They are open and I easily find what I need and cram it into a bag and head home, staring at the sidewalk, my mind going over the phone conversation again and again. Was I too forward?  Will he think it's weird that I've asked him to come to my apartment on what is really only the second date, or I guess third if you count our pizza "lunch."  Is this a date?  What am I going to wear? 

My apartment is in its usual state of "fake clean," meaning everything sloppy has been conveniently shoved out of sight to give the illusion of spotlessness, a practice which used to drive Eugene nuts.  I pull out the candles and a slightly corny CD called "Sounds from the Caribbean" which I got at Crate and Barrel over the weekend and begin preparing my own pico de gallo and bean dip, continuously glancing at the clock. I hope he likes spicy food . . . I pause for a moment and look around the apartment.  I imagine how in just a few hours it will be different.  A new presence will change it and the image of him within my walls will leave a lingering image which will remain long after he leaves.  *That is, if he leaves* I think, causing myself to giggle into the onion I'm chopping. 

  A black dress.  Definitely. 


(Post a new comment)


[info]brad_chase
2005-09-22 08:21 am UTC (link)
After having googled mojito, my thoughts insisted on taking a more personal turn for the remainder of the day. The prenup couldn't stand next to the vision of an efficiently tropical blond attorney walking in the shallow surf, sipping such a cocktail. By the time I parked at the address she gave me, the only work-related vestiges still hanging on was my charcoal Armani suit. I knock with my free hand, the other holding a respectable Bordeaux. The grin gave too much away. I worked on restraining it when I heard her footsteps, but my heartbeat took up the slack.

(Reply to this)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-22 04:39 pm UTC (link)
A knock at the door.

A knock at the door!

Okay. The candles are lit. The mojito pitcher is full and swirling with ice. I have no lipstick on my teeth. My hair looks sexy. Just did a breath mint. The books on the coffee table are arranged so that it appears I’ve actually been reading them. Phone is disconnected. Deep breath. Okay.

I refrain from skipping to the door, instead taking measured, controlled steps, and check the peep hole. He’s smiling!

I match the smile as I open the door.

“Hi Brad!”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-22 08:01 pm UTC (link)
Elegant. Inviting.

Not moving, not talking, just grinning, locked on her smile, then her eyes. I remember to breath and the light fragrance of her perfume - and something else - brings me to the moment.

"Jamie. You look - " *amazing, sexy, beautiful* " - relaxed."

I offer the red wine to her. "It's possible, after a long day and this and your legendary mojitos, we might both be too relaxed to move." *I chuckle nervously, feeling a warmth - embarrassment? expectation? her? - move through my limbs* She steps aside, giving me the cue to enter.

Onions.

It's good. This feels good. Like... home.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-22 09:21 pm UTC (link)
“It’s possible indeed,” I give him a slightly-too-naughty smile and take the bottle of wine, proud of myself for not letting it slip through my hands, which are suddenly sweating.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll get you a drink.” And I dash to the kitchen to catch my breath. It only takes a second to pour the contents of the pitcher into the slender, frosted, flared-at-the-top glass, but I pause before returning to him. I pause to watch him taking in my apartment. He already looks at home. He looks content, but I notice a slight sadness in his expression. It is the same look I noticed when I met him at O’Malley’s for a beer on that rainy day.

“How was Crane Poole & Schmit today?” I ask gently, handing him the glass, adorned with a mint leaf.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-23 09:13 am UTC (link)
I picked up a biography on her coffee table. I had to. Otherwise, I would have watched her move into her kitchen. It was the effects of her smile on my imagination, reading all kinds of suggestions into it - then she disappeared. Not before I noticed how the fabric clung to her.

Carefully placing the book in its exact spot, I took in the comfortable furniture and warm colors, subtle in the glow of many candles. The overwhelming feeling was one of being embraced, welcomed after the chaos of the firm and the cold sterility of my brownstone. I hadn't felt this way since...

"Thank you." I took the glass she offered, then tilted it slightly toward hers, the momentary lapse into self-pity all but banished when she looked up at me through her lashes. "Jamie. Really. Thank you - for this and for inviting me here." She asked about work, but I raised a finger to pause that thought and took a sip.

"Wow." The tang was as strong as the drink - and I took another sip. "Seriously effective." I nodded my approval and backed up until I felt her couch touch the back of my legs, then reached out to her, guiding her next to me. We both settled down in the comfortable cushions and, without consciously meaning to, I realized we were on opposite ends. We turned toward each other, leaving the empty cushion between us like an unspoken cautionary tale of two adults that have been around the proverbial block in bad weather.

"Work? I spent the day digging through message and returning calls. Spent more time than I should have reorganizing my case files which had inexplicably been relabeled with stripper names." I started ticking off Shore's exploits on the fingers of one hand. "All memos for August had been folded into paper airplanes. All the screws had been removed from the rollers on my chair. It took me thirty minutes to calm my client when she told me she received a copy of her deposition rewritten in haiku."

One more - long - drink of the seductively potent mojito. "And how was your day, counselor?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-23 05:44 pm UTC (link)
“Haiku. Wow.” Shakes head in disbelief. But I hadn’t really been listening closely, just enjoying sound of his voice. Just watching him talk, resting my head on my fist, my elbow propped against the back of the couch. The drink is making me feel slightly fuzzy. He has asked me a question but my response is just a smile and a sigh. The flickering candlelight creates a surreal glow and I suddenly feel as if we are no longer in my apartment at all, but rather, some exotic location, beside a fireplace in a chalet in the Swiss Alps, a polar bear rug on the floor in front of us, beckoning us.

How did this come to be? How is it that right when I needed someone, right when I was hoping for someone, that he is here. This handsome, articulate, charming, blond Cary Grant is somehow available too, and he is here, in my apartment, drinking my mojitos, picking up my John Winthrop biograhy, relaxing in my candle light. It all seems to good to be –

“You’re not married are you?”

Oh God. I did NOT just say that.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-24 08:35 am UTC (link)
"D'ya have to know that before I can hear about your day?"

Squinting at her, I tried to measure which way this was going. There'd been no reaction to stripper names or airplanes. Even the haiku only warranted a 'wow'. A simple 'how was your day' was met with an inquiry into my marital status. Was she interested - or not so much?

Nevertheless, I was. "Never been." Great. Next question, please. Why is a decent 40-year old man not married? Aha. He must be gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I finished my mojito and looked at her. "And I'm straight." Well, that sounded defensive. Fix it. "I mean, I just haven't found the right person." She raised an eyebrow. "Woman. The right woman."

I loosen my tie a bit. That warmth was getting a little hot. "Uh, so - your day?" I suddenly wished I hadn't finished my drink. "Working on a divorce case?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-24 09:41 pm UTC (link)
A *very* awkward pause ensues.

Then, just in case he doesn’t already think I’m completely tactless and inappropriate, I burst out laughing. I burst out laughing! Oh no, he’s going to hate me by the end of the night.

“Oh, Brad. I am so sorry. I don’t know what on earth made me ask that,” I try to hide my red cheeks with my hands. “You must think I’m – I’m . . . I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I think I was getting a little, um, ahead of myself or, something, or I think it’s been so long and I’m just a little overwhelmed that you’re finally, um, that we’re finally. . .” I bite my lip, and make a sort of hand gesture to try to indicate I really don’t know what I’m talking about. “But, I mean, I’m really glad you’re not married! I’ve never been married either. And I’m really glad you’re . . . straight.” I smile and take the risk of covering his slightly fidgeting hand with mine. I look into his eyes. I try to explain with my eyes what I seem to be unable to speak. I try to urge him to laugh too. But maybe I should just move on . . . maybe changing the subject is the best way to ease us out of this uncomfortable moment.

“My day! My day sounds like it may have been easier than yours. Alan sounds like he’s gotten worse in his new environment. I’m on a murder case, though. It’s one of those where I know my client is lying about something but I can’t figure out what. He’s only 18, “ My hand is still on his . . “He doesn’t really fit into the neighborhood, which is why Lenny gave the case to me, I think. The police just want to pin this on someone - do you need another drink?”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-25 08:14 am UTC (link)
Her laugh was a relief, infectious. I started to grin at her litany of all too familiar reasons, but when I felt the softness of her palm on my hand, all I wanted to do was look in her eyes.

She's talking. Murder, lying. The words don't fit with her lips... Turning my hand over, I intertwine my fingers with hers. All I can do is grin and enjoy the vibes.

Do you need another drink, she asks. I look down at our hands, my thumb caressing hers. "You're straightforward and honest. I like that." Chuckling, I still don't look up. "I'm glad you're enthusiastic that I'm straight. Things are... looking up."

I reluctantly told myself to dial back the desire that was attempting to take over what I was saying, yet I happily undermined my good intentions by agreeing to the drink. "Another mojito might buy you my take on clients who are being dishonest."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-26 02:07 pm UTC (link)
I realize that getting him another drink will require me to let go of his hand. I like how his hand feels. Strong. Warm. Firmly gripping mine. “Well, I can’t pass up the opportunity to get the advice of an esteemed attorney like yourself.” I stand up, still holding his hand, and I look right into his eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper with a smile as I slowly and reluctantly let my fingers slide away from his. I walk backwards into the kitchen, unable to take my eyes from him.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-26 06:20 pm UTC (link)
Leaning forward, literally on the edge of the sofa, I watch her back towards her kitchen, my thoughts forming images of us not having dinner somewhere. As she disappeared, the trance broke and I kick myself for forgetting my manners. I should have insisted she remain seating while I brought her another drink. Jamie's clearly exceptional - and I'm going to do whatever I can to keep her interest.

I hear the clink of glasses and stand up, quickly walking into her kitchen. She glances up, surprised. "Hey. Look... " I started to apologize, but stopped abruptly when our eyes met. This time, for me, there was no awkwardness, no concept of time or correct behavior. Completely in the moment, I closed the distance between us, folding my hand around hers now holding a full glass. Gently directing her hand down to the counter, I barely registered its sound. I held her hand and raised it up, lightly pressing my lips against the back of her fingers. Looking into her eyes, I lowered her hand, still grasped in mine.

"Jamie, you... " I pause, my index finger tracing the edge of her blonde hair where it framed the right side of her face. "... you're so beautiful." A wide grin spreads across my face, happy to be open, confident in my instincts, ready to trust, eager to drop the still sometimes poignant feelings I had for Victoria, ready to let go of my infatuation of Lori. My thumb stroked her cheek while our clasped hands held on tightly.


counter hit make

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-26 07:54 pm UTC (link)
The feel of his hand against my cheek gives me a shiver which starts at the base of my neck and shoots all the way down to my high heels. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing happens. Instead we just look at eachother, the kitchen light not quite as romantic as the candle lit front room, but bright enough for me to see him clearly. It allows me to see that he is honest. That he means what he is saying. He desires me, and is not afraid to show it. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything. It is so different from . . .

I hold his hand tighter, moaning lightly in response to his touch on my face. Being desired. Being wanted. He makes me feel beautiful. He is so beautiful.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-26 09:57 pm UTC (link)
Hearing her quiet reaction, feeling her hand squeeze mine, her fragrance stimulating in its proximity - my senses directed me. She felt welcoming and I couldn't quite remember when another person exhibited this kind of simple acceptance of me.

My fingers intertwined in her hair, my thumb moving to her jawline, applying a gentle pressure, tilting her head up. Lowering my face to hers, I move slightly to the right side of her face, breathing her in, my lips lingering against her cheek. This feeling of close intimacy filled me up and I let her know by returning her squeeze of our clasped hands.

The moment was exquisite. The promise of ...

brrrrrrr - brrrrrr

... of reality interceding by way of my cell phone.

I closed my eyes and pulled back, a God, I'm sorry expression replacing the one of desire one second before. My hand, the one that fit so well holding her face, now fumbled in my pocket, searching for the button that would make it stop. Finally. I opened my eyes, looking into hers and smiled my apology.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-26 10:23 pm UTC (link)
BRRRRRR – BRRRRRR

I gasp and step back, startled. Reality. Always there. The reality of being lawyers. His sheepish smile clearly shows how sorry and embarassed he is by this, as I watch him try to turn it off.

Reality. My bean dip and pico de gallo are still waiting in the fridge. I barely know him. We haven’t even had dinner yet. Some food might be smart right now. Reality.

“It’s ok,” I smile back, trying to reassure him between rings. “My phone tends to do that too. You can take the call if you need to.”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-26 11:18 pm UTC (link)
I shake my head. "No. I'm not taking the call. I should have left it in the car. I'm, um - I'm sorry it... interrupted us." She had let go of my hand at some point, so I reach out, touching her upper arm, sliding my hand down to her wrist, then her palm. I thought I read in some hesitation. Was the moment gone?

I look down at my full glass on the counter. "Would you like to get some dinner? I made reservations at two places, depending if you feel like French at the Four Seasons or Asian at the Salamander." Then I make one more attempt to rekindle the spark. "Or... we can have that second drink." I look back toward her living room. "Your home really is - it's very - " I wanted to tell her how compelling she was, but didn't. " - very comfortable."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-27 01:32 pm UTC (link)
"Oooh! I really like French. Maybe we should . . . " I lift his hand and press it against my cheeck. I also look at the full glass on the counter. The extremely potent full glass. "In the interest of not becoming unconscious" I smile at him, and squint slightly, hoping he understands this is just a temporary slow down "why don't we share this one drink, and then get some dinner. Here, I've even got" - I reach for the bowls in the fridge, pulling his hand with me so as to not let go - " some appetizers to go with it." I set the bowls on the counter, and prepare a chip for him. I lift it to his lips. "And besides, what about that advice you promised me?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-09-29 05:47 am UTC (link)
Smirking, I give in to the slightly awkward dating ritual of being hand fed and dutifully open my mouth. To her credit, she didn't miss and no one had to get into the tongue thing. Actually, the dip was good. "The dip is good," I managed. She made a move as if to reload but I held up a hand. I hoped she wasn't disappointed that I didn't return the gesture.

"Aren't you going to have one as well - or are these laced with some substance that might leave me at your mercy?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-09-30 01:57 pm UTC (link)
His comment causes an involuntary knot to form abruptly and painfully in my stomach. I laugh loudly, trying to squelch it and the bad memory it briefly caused me to recall. I’m angry at myself for having this reaction. That was years ago and I should be over it. It occurs to me that at some point I will probably have to tell Brad about it, but I push that depressing thought away.

“Don't worry, I’ll have one too. It’s probably best if we both taste like onions,” I say, giving him a sly smile.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-01 06:07 am UTC (link)
I'm aware people say I'm rigid and unyielding, but I'm not without perceptive skills. All lawyers honed these eventually. It's evolutionary payback for our profession being considered a necessary evil. For two seconds, I saw Jamie tense. The successive seconds were given over to cover-up laughter. Intrigued, I wanted to follow up. After all, my remark was intended as sexual innuendo. What self-respecting lonely guy wouldn't counter?

Then, as if to underline my thoughts, she offered a promising grin and all but declared there would be occasion to taste.

"For the record, Jamie, no inducement will be needed for our evening to end with a kiss." I grin, encouragingly. "Onions, notwithstanding."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-02 09:08 pm UTC (link)
He gave me that “lawyer” look. That suspicious look lawyers give to clients and opposing counsel when they have caught them in a moment of weakness. I realize he was completely aware that his comment had affected me. For some reason I am relieved by his awareness. I think I may have tensed up on purpose, hoping he would take note. It’s as if we’ve reached some kind of understanding; almost as if I’ve already told him the reason for it.

But he has also responded to my smile, understanding my message exactly as I hoped he would, and now he is looking at me with a naughty yet honest smile which makes me forget all about our dinner reservation. I admire his hair, which I can tell he spent considerable time on. I breathe in deeply his aftershave. I take in the moment of him in my kitchen, my eyes roving over the smooth expensive material of his suit, and imagining his arms underneath it. I let myself take it all in.

“Awwwwww,” my smile becomes morphs to an innocent pout. “I have to wait until the end of the evening?”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-03 12:22 am UTC (link)
Moments passed, the quiet of her kitchen only enhanced the sensuous sound of her breathing. She looked at me, almost taking inventory. A hint of relief hung between us as I heard her breathe deeply, a slight hitch in her intake. Something was there. Not dating nerves, not sexual tension - at least not only that - something that intrigued me enough to consider asking over dinner.

I stared at her mouth as her lower lip moved into a charming pout and she teased me, daring me.

Her words had an immediate effect on my body. But one thing I have in spades is discipline. My decisions were always careful, mind over body. This lack of spontaneity was, perhaps, why I was forty with no serious relationships. That analysis was for another time.

I moved closer to her, my chest feeling the slight pressure of hers, chemistry nearly visible between us.

In a low voice: "Haven't you heard? Anticipation serves the moment." An almost imperceptible grin let her know that I also know how to play. To amend that, I slipped my right hand between her forearm and hip, resting it at her waist. "Verdict's in - but we'll have to wait for sentencing."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-03 05:07 pm UTC (link)
Oh, that’s good. He’s good.

His warm strong hand feels even better on my waist than it did when it was holding mine. He looks at me with a knowing smirk and I realize he has won, for now. A clever response is eluding me. All I can do is giggle and blush like a fool.

“Well in that case . . . did you say a French restaurant?”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-06 09:09 am UTC (link)
Is it an oxymoron to consider spontaneity? Watching her cheeks turn to rose, hearing a happy giggle - I thought about setting aside discipline. When her words agreed to delay my growing desire and her mouth curved a little when she said French, I wanted to pull her into me and do just that.

Yet... I did not.

I gestured toward her door, helped her on with her coat, enjoying laying my hands on her shoulders, safe in the pretense of adjusting its fit, and ten minutes later, we were being ushered into a private booth. The tall backs, the velvet drapes hanging from the ceiling to the floor, the ambiance, the wine: our environment gave us the green light to reach beyond superficial conversation. We quickly moved past extended family, favorite super hero, religion and bizarre moments with Alan. I was chuckling at her narrative of Alan posing as an airline executive when our server cleared away our dinner dishes and presented us with an array of desserts.

I didn't want our conversation, our evening, to end. Anything to prolong my time with her, to smell her perfume and imagine her blond hair, now glowing in the candlelight, feeling it later tickle my chest.

"We'll have dessert." I ordered for her, out of character for me to assume, but I didn't want to allow for the possibility of her waiving the server away. He set the cheesecake in front of her, the tiramisu near me, then left. The restaurant was quiet, we'd laughed and were relaxed. The time was right.

"So. How is it that a beautiful, intelligent woman is between boyfriends and allowing me to share an evening with her? I can't imagine whoever was before me actually letting you get away."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-06 02:04 pm UTC (link)
I smile and look off into the distance, enjoying the subdued elegance of my surroundings. He couldn’t have picked a better restaurant. And I love how he ordered desert for me. Why was that such a turn on?

But he has asked me a dangerous question. I’m experienced enough to know that men hate to think of the existance of other men in a woman’s past. They always want to believe they are the first, the only. But he has asked.

“it’s good timing,” I chuckle. “It really is. I was seeing someone in a serious way not too long ago. But he was kind of a . . . judgmental type.” I can’t help but laugh at my own pun. “No, our problem was he had kind of shut down emotionally. He was very devoted to his work and not open about his feelings. There was really no chemistry,” shrug “I think it was more just convenience. But we always stayed friendly. You have to when you work together.” I take a big bite of delicious cheesecake to shut myself up. Too much detail Jamie. Too much detail.

Upon swallowing, I decide to take the focus off myself. “What about you? I know you’re not married,” grin, “but I imagine it hasn’t been too long since you’ve broken someone’s heart.”

OOC: Perfect!! thanks.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-07 12:48 am UTC (link)
I rather liked that she had been in a serious relationship. It spoke well of her. The fact she was with him despite the lack of chemistry meant she saw beyond the physical and could become close to someone on other levels. I wondered how someone she remained friendly with made her tense up when we were back at her apartment. For the second time tonight, I felt protective of her - and I wasn't sure why. Taking care of a woman I had feelings for had steered me toward pain with -

"Nope. There are no broken hearts on my account." I almost let it spill that they tend to leave shouting 'fuck you', stopping myself in time. Blame the wine. "I've let work dominate to the point of not really becoming involved with anyone. I'm working on changing that." She didn't say anything and I sensed she was waiting for me to confess and hang myself. What the hell. "I almost did get married earlier this year." I felt a stab in my stomach. "I'm not sure what happened. I work with her, too. Somehow, we just avoid each other." I figit with my water glass, swirling it, watching the lemon surf. "I'm sorry. I've never really talked to anyone about it." Truth was, I don't talk about anything involving my feelings - anymore. Not something you want to admit on a date with a woman you want to see again. I look up at her and smile.

"How was he judgmental?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-07 05:54 pm UTC (link)
With extreme difficulty I manage to stop myself from getting up from the table, and going over and giving him a big hug. For a man who tries to play it so cool, who likes to be strong, protective, in control, I’m astounded by how vulnerable he suddenly appears. Almost like a child, He has clearly been hurt. Badly. But as the swirling lemon comes to a stop, his persona changes again; I can almost see the physical memory of her sliding off his shoulder as he forces it away. I can’t help but wonder what she was like.

I lean forward and rest my arms on the table.

“I’m so sorry, Brad. To be on the brink of marriage and have it fall apart must have been . . . I can’t imagine. Sometimes it helps to talk about it.” I smile knowingly. “Keeping everything inside can drive you crazy.”

But his downcast eyes signal to me that now is not the best time, that he is probably not ready yet.

“He was a judge. Or I should say ‘is now’ a judge.”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-08 02:44 am UTC (link)
Looking back up into her face, I saw her sincerity - and something else. Kindness. Empathy. Neither of us are hopeful twentysomethings. I wager she knows the score of investing, then losing. I immediately felt a sense of camaraderie, two soldiers that had returned from war, adept at shelving those experiences but no question of returning to service. With her grace and a bubbling just-below-the-surface effervescence, I could see the two of us huddling, sometime in the future, sharing stories, laughing and relieved to make a connection. God. What was happening to me. Ah, I think they call it hope.

"A judge?" I was impressed. Despite who I worked with, I tended to revere judges. Comes from my respect for hierarchy in the Marines* "What's his name?" It was probably an impertinent question, one I should amend. "I mean, that's your business. I don't mean to pry. Just wondering if I know him."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-08 08:03 pm UTC (link)
I pause. Does he really want to know? Would that be awkward if he ever had him in court? Of course, if I don’t tell him, he might start to wonder about every judge he runs into! No, I don’t want any secrets.

“Eugene. Eugene Young.” I take a sip of the decaffeinated coffee the waiter has just set before me. “It’s quite possible you’ve run into him. He works here in Boston. He ran into Alan on his very first case! That was kind of a nightmare. Luckily Eugene withdrew before anything too destructive could happen. He and Alan have a very bad relationship.”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-09 11:36 pm UTC (link)
Nodding, I offered an accepting smile. Good news all around. "I know of him, but never've been in front of him. I hear he's fair, a good one to pull if you have a discrimination case."

As I say this, my eyes fall to her hand, poised next to her coffee cup. "So he worked in your firm - in Alan's firm, huh?" I deliberately unhand the stem of my water where it had been safely figiting, shifted an elbow onto the edge and lay my arm on the table, my open hand facing up, just a few inches from hers, extended into her territory. Still watching her hand, my index fingers beckons once and I feel her gaze move from my face.

"I've read the transcripts from Shore's countersuit with your firm - kind of like to understand what we might face some day - and I must say, he stated quite adamantly that he thought highly of Young."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-10 06:40 pm UTC (link)
“He did think highly of him,” slight laugh. “I think that’s what confused us. He single handedly destroyed our firm, without any regard to our feelings or our future, and yet . . . yes, I know he did think highly of Eugene, and the whole firm, and that he actually liked us all. I think he just wanted to be . . . I don't know. It made no sense. Watch out for him.”

I say all of this while watching his hand, the deliberate movement of his hand before me on the table, inviting me, enticing me, speaking to me without words. But his first comment, which I tried to ignore, is still playing in my head.

“A good one to pull if you have a discrimination case? People actually say that??” I shake my head, interrupting before he can say answer. “I mean, yes, Eugene is passionate in that area, but you know, after everything he went through – his own brother was killed by the police just because he was black – and Eugene has fought so hard to overcome prejudice and get where he is today and to fight the injustice that happened to his brother and the racism that still exists everywhere in our legal system – “ speaking faster “ - and to think that lawyers would take advantage of that situation and use it to their . . . advantage is just - is just – “ takes a deep breath and slows down and gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”


(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-11 09:51 am UTC (link)
The more she spoke, the tighter my forehead felt. It wasn't so much the dressing down. When it came down to it, no matter what and with whom, it's ill-advised to utter the d word when referring to an African-American judge. No, the thing that made the crease in my forehead hurt was the evidence of emotion for this man. I had been watching her first with a look of astonishment, then shame. Now I looked down and slowly pulled back my hand. The road ahead might be closer to a wash out rather than a comfortable Sunday drive. Still navigable, I reassured myself, but you won't be reaching your destination tonight.

"No. Don't say your sorry. I was outta line. I'm sorry. Judge Young - he has the respect of the legal community." I looked up, eyebrows raised like a school kid hoping to avoid punishment. Then my brain had the unfortunate idea to replay use it to their advantage. "You meant my advantage, if ever I was protecting my client against undue discrimination." It wasn't an accusation, simply a defense. "Because it would be wrong for me to do what it takes to give my guy a fighting chance."

Our waiter drifted past my field of vision and I nodded the signal. "Jamie? Anyone ever tell you you talk fast?" Leaning forward a little, I catch her eye. "It's a very... efficient trait. I, um, I find efficiency very... compelling."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-11 05:19 pm UTC (link)
Our eyes have met, and I smile, aware that I tend to blush much more frequently than usual when I’m in his company.

The way he said “give my guy a fighting chance” has given me chills. The way he lowered his voice and the look of passion in his eyes. My eyes widen as I listen to him, and I nod my head. I instantly feel terrible for the accusatory tone of my little rant. I realize then that our passion is the same. We both have the same drive: the desire to do whatever it takes for a client. I can see that passion is so deeply ingrained within him, it’s part of his whole being.

But I also notice I've caused him to recoil. How could I have let that happen? I try again. “I – “ I start to say ‘I’m sorry,’ but then remember he has instructed me not to. “I – have noticed you talk fast too,” flashing him a big smile. “I admire your efficiency.” I set both hands, palms down, on the table, and lean forward to the same degree that he has leaned forward. Then I whisper “and I am sorry.”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-12 10:33 am UTC (link)
Grateful that she seemed willing to let my misstep slide, I relaxed and enjoyed her grin. She admires my efficiency. Short of Paul's recent evaluation of me, I can't say those words have ever been uttered by anyone. She got me. Suddenly, the road again looked promising.

I've long held the theory wait staff prey upon the first daters. Ours saw our grins, he assessed our body language and poised ready until he saw me mimic her posture and lay my forearms on the table. Just as my hands gently settled on hers, at the very instant our skin made contact, amid the tangible sparks generated as my fingers curved around the sides of her hands and caressed her palms, our waiter materialized, laying the black leather check envelope between us, informing us he would handle the transaction and quizzing us about our evening, our food, our wine and his service.

I'm a regular guy, not the smoothest, and my attention turned to him - unfortunately. I nodded agreeably, hoping he would be satisfied and go. He lingered, almost as if he wanted me to pull out my credit card on the spot. That would mean -

Reluctantly, I slid my hands away from hers and fished around for my wallet. "Here you go." Now he offers a quick thank you, sir. Miss and dematerializes. We both stare after him, then look back at each other - and laugh.

"Do you think he wants to get rid of us?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-13 01:55 pm UTC (link)
“I guess we are the only people left.”

It’s true. I look around, and notice there is no one left in the restaurant except us and the wait staff, one of whom has begun vacuuming in the farthest corner from us, as if thinking sound doesn't travel that far.

Reluctantly, we get up, and we both stretch, suddenly realizing we hadn’t moved in a long time, and that the wine and heavy food has left its toll. The night chill hits us as we step outside to wait for our cab. We both instinctively step closer to each other for warmth, and I slide my arm through his.

“Thank you for dinner, Brad,” I smile, resting my cheek against his shoulder. “I had a wonderful time.”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-14 10:23 am UTC (link)
We only shared a single bottle of wine - and the mojitos were hours ago. There was only one explanation for being unsteady: her. The brisk air didn't clear my head - or if it did, it was instantly neutralized when her arm curved under mine, her hand lightly clutching my forearm. That one move triggered a baser part of me long since shelved. The inarticulate drive was waking up again - and my powers for communication escaped me as the cab pulled up to the curb.

I moaned.

I don't believe she heard me over the idling engine. "I appreciate you being open to seeing me tonight. I've been looking forward to this since your trip." I open the door, helped her in and slide in next to her. She gave him her address. As we pulled away, I flashed forward and considered, then filed it under wishful thinking. Still...

We rode in comfortable silence, each gazing out our windows, lost in thought - or at least feigning it. I, for one, was aware of everything about her: breathing, perfume, the frequent pot hole jerks and bumps and corners and stop lights that caused our bodies to press and lean. Sometimes, we'd chuckle during a particularly tight curve. Our arms remained entangled. As we crossed through Nob Hill, I slid my hand to hers, our fingers intertwining. I squeezed, expressing to her what she was doing to me, how I felt next to her.

We turned down her block. It was time. I would not presume, but I would ask - and before I asked, I submitted one final exhibit into evidence. I turned slightly toward her, my free hand reaching up to touch her hair, admiring her. Our eyes met.

"This is the best evening I've had in... I honestly can't remember." I leaned in slowly, closing my eyes, almost taking a chance but, at the last moment, simply resting my forehead against hers, close in the darkness as the cab came, this time, to a gentle halt. "Jamie. I want... to take you out again. Soon," I said quietly.

I opened my door and moved to get out, still holding her hand, then watching first one, then her other long, tanned leg exit the cab. Bare legs. "I'll walk you to your door." The cabbie cleared his throat and I glanced at him, briefly. "Shall I ask him... *I hesitated* ... to wait?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-14 05:24 pm UTC (link)
The awkwardness of the moment is not lost on either of us.

I look nervously at the impatient cabbie, and then at Brad, and then at the front door of my building, which suddenly seems very far away. The evening was so perfect, but it is very late. His promise of wanting to take me out again, soon, is also weighing in heavily.

Badly as I want to . . . I know it’s just not smart.

I look into his eyes, and smile sadly, hoping that I’m successfully conveying what I’m trying to convey. I want to. I want to. But not yet. But I want to. But we shouldn’t. Oh, this is hard. “Could you give us five minutes please?” I ask the driver quickly, before I can change my mind, before there can be any discussion about it.

Then, not wanting to waste any of the five minutes, I wrap my arm through his again and begin walking us both to my front door.

It is very quiet at this hour. All my neighbors are undoubtedly asleep, and although the building’s night guard is hovering nearby, he overtly pretends not to see us. The lights are slightly too bright, glaring in our eyes.

We stand facing each other. I look at Brad’s chin, then his lips, then move my gaze up to his eyes, leaning in slightly closer.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-15 06:29 am UTC (link)
My propensity for preferring to clearly understanding the uncrossable lines seemed in my genetics. Now was no different and I appreciated her subtle direction more than I regretted not going in. Her eyes said all I needed to know.

Resting my hands on either side of her waist, tucked in the warmth between her coat and her dress, I didn't pull her toward me, but stepped in - not so close as to feel her body against mine, but close enough to feel her presence, her warmth.

Drawn to each other, first our noses touched, then our lips. There's nothing quite like the first kiss. Light, lingering, somewhat chaste. I moved a hand up, cupping the side of her head, extending our kiss with a caress. I felt her smile against my lips and was powerless to keep from responding in kind.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-15 09:39 pm UTC (link)
It was everything I had hoped and more. My fear that he would be miffed by my asking the taxi to wait was immediately dispelled by the light touch of his hands, and the tender playful feel of his lips against mine.

He smells good. He tastes good. I feel his hands caressing my face and I let my arms slide up, touching the back of his neck and running my fingers through his hair, or, at least trying to. Mmmmmm. I don't want it to end. I pull him in tighter, pressing myself against him, intentionally teasing him.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-16 03:01 am UTC (link)
Oh, I liked the way she played. Reasonably certain the line hadn't moved, her move made me enormously grateful. She felt free enough with me to express her desire and trusting enough to know I'd read it, not as an invitation to push my luck, but as an expression of what might be to come. Next time.

This time... she was doing everything right: a natural, comfortable kind of propriety that I respect countered with a wicked sense of humor overlaying her... her... athletic... desirable body. She pressed against me. My body responded immediately. There was nothing I could do about that. My arms continued around, encircling her waist, hugging her closer. Nothing was between us but our clothes and my breathing became rapid, controlling it as best I could while we continued to kiss, more passionately now.

The time went too quickly. I could have kissed her just like this all night and, if I were another man - say, Shore - I might have persuaded her to let me. Our long, exploratory kiss slowly transformed into small kisses. Lips, cheek - at one point, while holding her, my hands still under her coat and rubbing up and down her back, I found her ear, kissing it and whispering Jamie. It was... hard - and I was making a good faith effort to wind down. Finally, I pulled away a few inches and looked into her eyes, smiling.

"You're so... " *I moaned, rolled my eyes and chuckled* "... so sweet." I gave her a brief kiss on her lips. "I don't want to say good night." I tried to look sad, but the fact of the matter was I was much too happy to elicit anything but a giggle from her. "You know how I feel about efficiency. In that light, would you let me take you out again tomorrow night?" I waited, stopping myself from making a case why she should say yes.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-16 07:49 pm UTC (link)
He has left me in a dream-like state. Although he has pulled away briefly, I can still feel him against me. I was keenly aware of his response when my body was touching his. I feel like it has been too long since I've felt someone desire me like that.

"I'd love to go out tomorrow," I say with a sleepy smile. "Except . . ." I glance at my watch. "It is tomorrow." My eyes widen, suddenly realizing the implications of what I've just said. "I mean, uh, what time tomorrow?"

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-16 09:20 pm UTC (link)
"Hmmm - let me think... " I gaze reflectively into the night. "Say, I drop by at 1 a.m. We have one of your mojitos and see what happens?" No expression. Then we both snicker. "Seriously," I sigh. My hands slide down her back and grasp both her hands, pulling her back in close just to feel her body against mine one more time, memorize it so I can recall it later. And I knew I would.

"You tell me when to be here and I'll be here. Your wish, my command. And I have an idea. Something different." I take a half-step back. I hate to, but it's mind over body right now, that Marine discipline kicking in.

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-17 01:49 pm UTC (link)
“Around 6? Something different? I’m intrigued. I’m sure I’ll like your idea, whatever it is.” I am tempted to step forward as he steps back, but I resist. Eventually we will have to let go and say good night. “Thank you so much for tonight, Brad. I mean it.”

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-18 08:39 am UTC (link)
"Being with you tonight - did me a world of good. You've no idea." That sounded a little self-absorbed. "I mean, thank you for the pleasure of your company. Tomorrow - it's casual. Weathers so bad lately that I miss seeing the stars. I was thinking we'd relax in the Hayden Planetarium. Kinda explore the universe together." I'm still holding both her hands in mine and give them a squeeze - and smile. "And it'll be dark."

I let go and took a defining breath, now aware she's looking a little sleepy.

"Good night, Jamie." But I didn't move - nor did she. "I'm not budging until you're safely inside your building."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]jamie_stringer
2005-10-19 07:08 pm UTC (link)
"Good night, Brad." I quickly kiss his lips one more time, then open the door. I step inside, but continue to linger in the doorway, not quite ready to say goodnight. I love his sense of chivalry. I almost wish a masked prowler of some sort would materialize, just so I could watch Brad in action, but that does not happen.

"It did me a world of good too. I can't wait for tomorrow." I smirk and give a slight wiggle of anticipation. "I'm really looking forward to the stars . . . and the dark." I wink. "Good night."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

[info]brad_chase
2005-10-21 09:27 am UTC (link)
Her wiggle did it for me. I thought of it as the cabbie took me home. Once, deep in a fantasy extrapolating that wiggle, I chuckled. In the distance, I thought I heard the cab driver chuckle along with me. He'd seen it, too. Two hours later, as sleep finally gained the upper hand, I dreamed about it.

seventeen hours later...

(Reply to this)(Parent)

Create an Account
Forgot your login?
Login w/ OpenID
English • Español • Deutsch • Русский…