Ekaterina was in town for business from an old USSR state, and her Tinder profile talked about being on one of those successful people in the world lists. Smart is sexy as fuck, and I couldn’t help but want to verify that… it took five seconds to be true. Photos of being done up in a fancy dress followed by athletic wear and race numbers… 5’8”, blonde, fit, and possibly right in that cup size that says my hands will be just filled by perky wonderfulness. That’s a pleasing match.
We got together in the city and met at a coffee shop, with her insistence that this wasn’t where we needed to stop for a drink. I tend to avoid meeting people on a Friday night, and trying to use my favorite quiet bar a block away showed why this is a poor choice. We tried a couple of other places, took transit, and everything was slammed. A park bench and no drinks it would be while we talked about people, dogs, and life. The banter kept long enough to get hungry, we added a meal in, and then it was heading back out of town time for her as she stayed out of the city, but had meetings all over.