First Dates
I cranked up the volume in my snazzy convertible on my way into the office. Wait? A convertible in Seattle? Yes. I was vicariously living the Florida Sun Coast life in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe a convertible didn’t make a whole lot of sense most of the year, but today I was still feeling my Aruba trip, so the convertible served as my transportation mode.
I had been back in town for a few days, and today was the day for The Date. Yes! The yummy Dexter Reed and I were having lunch. Conversations with him via telephone and text while I was vacationing in Aruba only increased my desire to get to know him better. While driving, I pondered the dialogue with him last night—rolling it back through my mind like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat.
Reed: Hi, Aubrey.
Me: Hey, Reed.
Reed: How was your second day back in the office?
Me: Busy, busy. I’m having to pretend that I’m still in Aruba.
Reed: LOL
Me: Seriously…I got spoiled not hearing my name for two weeks with great frequency.
Reed: Well, you are part owner of the firm, so you should probably get used to that.
Me: Trish said the same thing today. I told her to file that.
Reed: So, Ms. Sanders…when was your last relationship?
I popped up in my ultra-comfortable bed, wondering how I should respond. What would he think when I told him that I had not dated for three years? Trish and I had been so busy that I literally had not been out with anyone with any kind of frequency to be considered a “relationship” by any stretch of the imagination (and mine was quite fertile). I had cancelled so many dates that my social life was beginning to feel like a string of Hollywood television pilots that never get past the second show. The truth. It always works. I flopped back onto those wonderful down pillows, crossing my silky smooth brown legs, and texted him.
Me: Umm, I haven’t dated in a bit.
Reed: Hmm. What’s a bit?
Me: Three years.
Reed: Three years????
Me: Yes, three.
Reed: SMH. These men in Seattle must be blind as Arizona bats.
Me: You do know that bats aren’t really blind, right?
Reed: Aubrey…it sounds better than saying that Seattle men must be some of the most unobservant men on the planet. Have you seen yourself lately?
Again, I popped up wondering how I should respond. I was either going to sound conceited or low on self-confidence whatever my response, neither of which sounded great to me. I had been the recipient of more than a few very open looks over the years—especially of my backside. Baby had serious back! I’m not bragging, but folks were spending mega dollars trying to get a look that came naturally to me—up top and down low. I decided to skirt the question.
Me: We’ve been very busy with the firm, and I haven’t had much time, frankly.
Reed: No time for relationships?
Me: Oh, I get asked out, but I’ve ended up cancelling a lot due to work.
Reed: Well, are we still on for tomorrow?
Me: Yes, we are.
Nothing from him for several minutes. Did I turn him off? Is he going to change his mind?
Reed: Sorry ‘bout that, Aubrey. I had to respond to an email.
Me: Working?
Reed: Not really. That popped up on my screen, and it’s an issue we’ve been working on all day to close a client deal.
Me: All right. See you for lunch tomorrow.
Reed: Absolutely. Have a good night. And, Aubrey?
Me: Yes, Reed?
Reed: We’ll discuss relationships on tomorrow.
Me: LOL…I thought you missed that.
Reed: Ms. Sanders, I don’t intend on missing much of anything that concerns you.
Me: Ohhh…have a good night, then.
Reed: Uh huh…see you tomorrow
Me: Bye
@@@@@
Pulling into the garage of our office building, I bounded out of the convertible like I was Wonder Woman on a gallon of Starbucks’ finest and strongest roast. I was ready for the day! The prospect of lunch with the very fine Mr. Reed had me more than ready to speed through the morning.
“Good morning, Aubrey. Looking good,” said our receptionist to me as I sashayed my way to my office.
Did I mention that I was rocking a bad navy St. John wool pencil skirt matched with a subtly sparkling sheer-y silver Armani blouse? Yes, I looked like the finest of lunch dates. Reed would be remembering this outfit for the rest of his entire life.
“Thanks, Lisa. How’re things this morning?”
“You have a couple of messages from clients on your desk. The usual busy start to a JS Architects & Design day.”
“Well, let’s make it happen—like you always do.”
“On purpose with purpose.”
I sat in my office chair and got busy. Being away two weeks, even while working, meant that there was plenty to do. I worked steadily up until lunch time. Reed had arranged to meet me downstairs and I wanted to be on time.
“Trish, I’m going to lunch with Reed,” I told my partner when I stopped by her office across the hall from mine.
“First date, huh? Been a minute for you, Girl. Your choice, but you okay?”
“Yes, I’m going to lunch with him. Not hooking up with him.”
“I know, but you cancelled on the last ten guys. I figured you were just disinterested. Why Reed?”
“He’s persistent.”
“Persistent? You would find persistence attractive,” she laughingly replied. “Aubrey, I’ll see you when you get back. Details. I want the details.”
“Sure thing, Girlie,” I told her blowing a kiss.
I made my way downstairs in a pair of very immodestly high heels by Stuart Weitzman. My legs looked great. Yep, he would remember this date for a long time.
“Aubrey,” he called from his seat in the lobby.
“Hi, Reed,” I replied, leaning in for a cheek kiss.
“You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. You look sharp, as well,” I responded. “Boss? Your suit?”
“Yes. Oh, an architect and fashionista? You are full of surprises.”
“Yes, I am! Designing an outfit is like designing a building. One thinks of purpose. One thinks of function. One thinks of how to make it appealing—texture, color, etc. And, one makes sure things stay up and in place as desired.”
“I admit to not having thought of clothing in that way, and I’m sure I’ll be thinking of this when I pick out my clothes on tomorrow.”
“Then my job is done,” I teased.
My shoulder bumped his. I eased away without being so obvious about the zing that shot from his hot body to mine. Good thing I had decided upon a lunch date. Really, Idris was in a run for his money with Dexter Reed.
We reached the chop house for lunch. Like other restaurants in the area, this particular establishment had decided that it was missing out on all those business expense account dollars by being open nights only, and someone wisely—likely its accountant—realized that daytime dollars were good, too, so they were now open during lunch.
Immediately seated, we were reading the menus when Reed stopped and looked at me.
“So, no one—no one—has been in your life seriously?”
“Well, okay then. I’ve been busy—very. Just sort
of lost track of time there for a bit. That’s all I can tell
you.”
“Seattle men are clueless.”
“I’ll take that as the compliment that I believe it is intended to be.”
“And, you would be very correct in doing so, Ms. Sanders.”
“You won’t let me forget that, will you?”
“No, I won’t,” he told me, his shining smile and lips looking better than anything on the menu.
The server came, and we placed our orders. Conversation continued easily between us. We discovered a number of things that we had in common, one of those being that we both enjoyed the outdoors. I told him of the long summer days to come, making trail hiking and bike riding two wonderful perks of the Pacific Northwest.
He shared about his life in Virginia, his family that was still on the East Coast, and his previous role in his company. From his talk, he was definitely a rising star. I could see it. He was intelligent, very well-spoken, and quite well-rounded in his interests. My kind of man.
We finished our lunch of thick-cut pork chops and steak with sides of asparagus. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. I was just about hooked. Really. This man had me imagining camping tents and jet skis.
He paid the bill, and we started walking back to my office building. We stopped at the revolving front doors to say our goodbyes.
“Ms. Sanders, I enjoyed lunch. Very much.”
“Well, thank you very much for lunch. I enjoyed you, too.”
“Again? Maybe this weekend? We’ll make it a dinner first date.”
“I think that is doable.”
“I’ll call you.”
He leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I got a whiff of his very sexy smelling cologne. I tilted my head to the side for his kiss, and almost swooned (yes, like a damsel in a Beverly Jenkins historical novel). His full lips brushed my skin, and he leaned back.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Aubrey. Thank you again for joining me for lunch.”
“Bye, Reed,” I managed to say.
While riding the elevator to our offices, I opened my phone to browse Facebook and see what was going on with my friends. The friend request icon had a little one over it. I tapped it. Dexter Reed.
I went to his page, and that handsome face smiled back at me. I had no choice—that smile drew me in (and that tight t-shirt he was wearing in his pic). And just like that, I was following Dexter Reed on Facebook.