“You look incredible,” he said as he held the door to the lounge open for me.
“Thank you, darling,” I beamed. I felt like a million bucks in this slinky carmine dress that fit as if it was merely draped around me. My husband looked like a bearded James Bond in his first ever designer suit. I chuckled as I caught the coat check girl checking out his ass.
The lounge was of typical atmosphere but the magic of it was not lost on me. We were seated in a dimly lit corner at a forest green, crushed velvet couch with a small, crystal coffee table. Crystals hung from the ceiling and a three piece band played jazz softly on the other side of the room.
We each ordered an Old Fashioned that came with something unnecessarily smoking sticking out of it. We shared a laugh as we settled into the comfy couch. He placed his arm around my shoulders and I allowed my already crossed right leg to start rubbing against his.
“God, you look incredible,” he gushed, staring deeply into my eyes.
“Stop it!” I blushed, looking away from him.