Thursday, July 2, 2009
Continued from Part I a few days back. Sorry for the delay, consider it foreplay...
So Maggie and I had a nice, calm dinner and decided to head back to her neck of the woods for a cocktail or beer. As I follow Mr. Gipps' directions, I realize she lives very close to a small wine bar I love. I ask her if she's a wine drinker. "I'm not really a big drinker but I like wine. Reds are great!" I park, right in front, and we wander into a fairly dead wine pub.
Lucky me, the big couch is open. The server, a guy, remembers me and my name, though it's been a good 9 months. We snag the couch, her sitting to my right. I browse the menu and order a South African red, bottle.
She asks about the wine, and I go into a long story about the vineyard. She's captivated by my story, watching my snagged and jagged profile as I speak. My hands get more verbal, which elicits smiles that I see peripherally. I ask if she wants any finger food, but she's stuffed. Our wine comes.
The server pours me first and the bouquet is powerful yet sweet. I nod my head, accepting the wine without tasting, and he finishes my pour and then hers.
I'm a wine snob, taking in deep inhales of it before every sip. This bottle is a personal favorite. She sips softly, our conversation slow and immaculate, only breaking when we taste our glasses.
She watches me when I drink. "Why do you inhale so deep when you drink?" Good wine is all smell. Try it. She does, but purses her lips as she sips. I tell her that a glass has a shape to match how your mouth should open. Cocktail glasses have bitter, strong alcohol that should be imbibed with a wide mouth. It causes the cocktail to skip your bitter taste buds, landing on sweet and savory.
She widens her mouth and tries again. "Wow, that does taste different." Better? She nods as she takes another mini-gulp. "Wow!" I smile.
As her mouth widens, I did momentarily consider what else she might want to taste wide-mouth tonight, but she turns and smiles at me. Way too pure, this on. I'd break her in an hour, sending her home crying to momma and Jesus. Damn it, I'm horny.
As we're halfway into our second glasses, the bottle empty, she's obviously tipsy. She laid her head into my shoulder, forcing my arm over hers, like high schoolers. Her forehead was touching the bottom of my jaw, very gently and sensually. I feared Little Fire Hydrant making an appearance.
We talked, I ordered 2 more glasses of huskier vino. I told her to swirl and sniff, and she was amazed to notice a difference. She said so: "I don't understand you, but I'm amazed. You're different." Am I? "Very. I feel strange." You're drunk. "Yes, but I mean I feel like I'm in a different universe." I like to taste things slower than most. I take my time.
"Always?" I nod my head. As I put my glass down, she smooches my cheek. "That surprises me most." I refuse to turn my head, instead letting her snuggle into my neck. She kisses it gently, forcing me to withhold a moan. LFH twitches ever so slightly.
She returns her head to my neck and shoulder. She asks about countries I've been to. I play it shady and tell her to ask about specific countries and I'll answer her. She lists some. Yes, yes, yes. She inquires how I've traveled so much, but I don't answer clearly, instead asking her where she's been.
Our final glasses are finished. As she puts her down, she kisses my face, some cheek, a touch of the side of my lips. "Let's tab out, I'm tired." The check comes and she snags it before I do. "Wow." I grab it and give her a glare. "You don't have to pay it all." I'm glad she offered, but please. I shove some twenties into the bill holder, stand up and help her stand.
She wobbles to the car, I let her in. I tap her address into the GPS and head off towards her place.
Yes, jump to the end first readers, to be finished in part 3.