[MF] San Francisco first date

Dallas He tossed another crumpled ball of paper toward the basket and murmured “He shoots. He scores!” as the trash bounced in.

“This will take a while” he said as he reached for the coffee. “What I’m writing doesn’t capture the moment. It was so… clear then… so lucid… so perfect. How can I put that into words?”

He leaned back in the wooden swivel chair and put his size 11 ½ Nikes onto the desk. “If I can just remember enough….,” as his eyes closed.

San Francisco – Dinner Sandra had agreed to meet Will at the Tadich Grill on California Street in the Financial District. The old restaurant was three blocks from his office and two from hers. Both were in town for several weeks and had mutual friends who suggested that they ‘look each other up’. Will arrived a few minutes after the agreed 5:00 time, having sprinted the last block in his tan gabardine slacks and denim shirt, the silk tie he wore (in defiance of the ‘casual’ trend at the dotcom office) trailing behind.

“This has got to be a bad idea”, Will thought for the thousandth time. “She sounded fine on the phone, so what the hell, it’s only dinner. Let’s see. She said she’s wearing a blue blazer, blonde hair…” as he scanned the so-cool-dressed-in-black San Francisco crowd.

“Will?” her lilting voice surprised him. He turned and looked down from his 6’5” height. Directly into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. “Sandra?” he asked, extending his hand. He thought “Looks don’t mean everything, but oh my gawd….” Sandra crinkled her eyes as she smiled and took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Lovely blazer. And the way it accents your eyes… wow.”

“Did I just say ‘wow’? She’ll think I’m brainless. But words fail me…” Will’s internal conversation continued.

Sandra was stunning: Slender, 5’6”, with a mane of blonde hair curling to her shoulders. The blazer was an electric blue high quality silk from Ann Taylor (Will learned later, but let’s not get ahead of our story), over a white silk blouse. She wore a dark grey wool skirt just the right length to show off her dancer’s legs… all the way down to 3” heels.

“I couldn’t get away as soon as planned. I hope you haven’t been … “ he began, to her interruption, “No, no, I just got here. What is this place, anyway?”

He took her arm and opened the door. The restaurant was noisy with after-work drinkers and early diners. A high ceiling, tile and wood floors, and a huge horseshoe bar made the place welcoming and familiar; it looked like Cheers or any of a dozen bar and grills from movies or television.

The hostess asked “Two? Smoking?” to which Will replied “Non smoking, please.” As they followed her, he asked “Or do you smoke?”

“No, not at all, thanks.” Sandra replied.

Settled at the table, on the balcony overlooking the scene below of bar, waiters scurrying around, and an already-filling restaurant, they had enough privacy to talk leisurely. The linen-topped table held beginning silver and china and soon enough their waiter approached.

“So, what can I get youse two to drink?” Straight out of New York, this one, they smiled to each other.

“Wine?” Will asked her, and with her nod, he asked for the wine list.

After a few moments, he said “Arrowwood 1999 Chardonnay, and a menu, please?”

“Good choice,” said the waiter as he turned and took menus from another table. “I’ll be right back.”

The conversation… started with jobs: What does your company do? How long will you be in San Francisco? Have you seen much of the city yet? What about the rumblings that the dotcom companies will crumble?

On to more interesting things: Where are you from? Tell me about your family… leading to a convoluted discussion of birth order, zodiac sign, and other supposed determiners of a person’s future. How did you meet Celia and Thomas, the mutual friends? Who is singing that (he couldn’t place the music they could hear between the hum of the crowd)?

Oh Van Morrison. Appropriate soundtrack Moon Dance as they danced with words, and yes, she was a dancer in a ‘former life’ as she wryly phrased it, making him wonder about her former life, her former lives, her nine lives, something feline about her, maybe it’s the mane of hair, maybe it’s the way she arched her back when she stretched… Thought provoking, this one is.

They were only interrupted by the waiter (salmon for Sandra, crab for Will, more wine for both), and by one another as the words tumbled out, triggered by a comment, a favorite song, so that the early evening flew by.

It was almost 7:00. No dessert, just coffee to cap the meal. Their plans were for dinner only but it was obvious (or was it? Will never could know, for sure, what a woman thought) that neither wanted the evening to end so soon. He reached across the table and took Sandra’s hand. “Let’s go explore the city.”

Her reply was a smile and a squeeze.

Outside they go, onto a cable car, clanging into the evening chill, up California Street to Grant Avenue, a few blocks away.

As they laugh and drink in the experience, Sandra leans against Will to talk over the noise of the cable car, “I’ve been here for two weeks and this is the first time on a cable car! What a blast!”

Her warmth against him is stirring. This was supposed to be a nice, simple, dinner with a friend-of-a-friend, but Will finds himself thinking that the evening could be more than that. Much more. He puts his arm around her, keeping her safe on the cable car, and is rewarded by her nestling against him even closer; the curve of her left breast against his side more intoxicating than the wine.

San Francisco – Chinatown Through the gates of Chinatown, hand in hand, so naturally. The narrow sidewalks, early evening shoppers, tourists, locals, people watching perfection.

“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing to a window full of silk pajamas. “Aren’t those beautiful? Where are you…?” as he led her into the shop.

Two tiny women approached, one in her 70s, the other in her 20s. “May we help you, please?” asked the matriarch in a heavily accented voice.

“Just looking,” Sandra replied, as she fondled the smooth, cool, purple material hanging from a display. “What do you think, red or black for her?” Will asked the shopkeeper.

The younger woman smiled slyly, turning to take two outfits from the case, and then whispered to Sandra, “Follow me, please…” Sandra looked at Will, winked, and went to the dressing room.

The two women danced in the tiny room, Sandra slipping off her blazer, blouse, and skirt and, with assistance, slipping into a sheath dress, traditional Chinese design, satin with brocade, that must have had two dozen frog clasps from neck to waist. The material was a magic blue, loose short sleeves that go up a bit on the sides, edged with red piping, wrapping left over right and secured with another frog.

Sandra wriggled from the dressing room to the smiles of Will and the shop owner. “Oh, look, she’s beautiful!” she cried out, and all Will could do was nod in agreement.

She preened in the mirror, knowing that all eyes were on her, loving the way she’d transformed from ‘business mode’ to a seductress, mysterious, exotic. Her hair was more pronounced than before; where one expected dark straight sheen was, instead, long, full, and curls.

Will stood behind her, powerful hands on her shoulders, and whispered “Beautiful, Sandra, simply beautiful. You were born to be a spy… Mata Hari, perhaps…”

She laughed, turned, stood on her barefoot tiptoes, and brushed her lips against his.

With that, she scampered playfully back to the dressing room.

Will paced, a smile dancing across his lips, enjoying the moment, the perfection, Chinatown, the beginning of a friendship, the way her eyes blazed as she looked at herself in the mirror….

“Ready for this one?” she asked, stepping from the curtains.

“No I’m not,” he answered, stepping back, getting a better look at her as she modeled for the group.

This time: Yes, pajamas. Top royal blue silk brocade. Bottom light blue silk. Comfortable, sensual, and you love the way the material caresses your body. And the way your body looks as the material hugs you.

“Which will it be, then?” asks the shop owner. “You are a pretty lady in both.”

“So true,” Will agrees, as Sandra shakes her head firmly. “No, they are both lovely, but neither one now, thank you very much.”

A wistful smile into the mirror and she returns to the changing room.

They walk, holding hands again, bumping against each other playfully as they wander the side streets of Chinatown. Early yet, yes, but they share an unspoken agreement that there will be other evenings, here and in other cities. They’ve had too much fun already to let this be a one-time-only encounter.

They wandered into a toy store. Playing, teasing each other, eyes flashing, she put a wicked mask before her face and growled. He laughed and tossed a plastic snake her direction. Sandra screamed and dashed onto a step ladder that promptly teetered dangerously. The kid working behind the counter barely looked up from his comic as Will came to her rescue.

“My hero! There has to be a medal around here for you” To which the kid pointed lazily to a shelf and, yes, there were medals and stripes and other military paraphernalia. She selected one and pinned it to Will’s shirt, finishing off with a French-style kiss on each cheek and a silly salute.

Will returned her salute and laughed, walking to the clerk to pay for the medal and a delicately carved box, 5” x 5” , laughing fat kittens patterned on each side.

As they left, she hugged him and said “How unexpected. And sweet. Thank you, Will.” — end part one

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1y63lg/mf_san_francisco_first_date