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A love story can begin many different ways. It can capture the reader with deep pockets of romance. It can breathe hope down into one’s own heart and help them believe that there is somebody for each and every one of us. . It can scream “I love you” from the highest rooftop in Spain, but that is not at all what I intend to do. I can, if I wanted to, scream those beautiful “I love you‘s“, or send flowers to her doorstep with a lovely poem on a card or I could buy an airplane ticket and send it to her along with a letter that stated the time and place. Yes, that is what I may do, I would then wait a couple of days, strung out on love and hope, waiting for her to join me for dinner in a city that she has never been to. I would not leave a telephone number where she can reach me. I would not explain myself in any way nor would I ruin my chances by confessing my love to a woman that I barely know. I would tell her the name of the restaurant, the time that I would be there and at what table I would be seated. I would make it as casual as possible because I wouldn’t want to pretend to be somebody that I’m not. There would be no fancy dinner served with salad and filet mignon. There would be no expensive bottle of wine placed neatly at the edge of the table. It would only be the two of us in complete casualness. I would be enveloped by her beauty and compliment her in such simplicity that it would make her smile a smile of perfection. We would sit facing one another; I in all attempts to be witty and charming would eventually embarrass myself. She would nod at me as I spoke as if being in agreement. She would laugh at my jokes and ease my clumsiness of words. She would cover her mouth with her right hand as she chewed. This would give her face a mystery behind her beauty. Every time she placed the fork to her mouth she would transform into something more spectacular, something more beautiful than what she already was. Every movement of her body, every laugh from her belly, every word she spoke would be more glamorous than the time before. I would be in awe and praise the existence of god and his good will toward men.

After dinner I would not invite her back to my place. There is such a thing as being to forward, I would not risk that. I would tell her what a great time I had and ask her if she enjoyed her meal. She would hopefully reply with no words, but with that slim smile of hers. I would take her hand, cup it between both of mine, raise it to my lips and kiss her perfect skin. I would then ask what hotel she would like to stay at so that I can book her a room. She would tell me something cozy or something with a swimming pool. I would then call us a cab, ask the driver to take us to the perfect hotel. Somewhere with a pool I would tell him. He would then speed us along, drop us in front of a lavishly quaint hotel. I would then pay the driver, leave a generous tip, but not to generous and walk her inside. The woman at the front desk would greet us, as if we were expected to show up in their presence at that particular time. I would ask how many days she would like to stay. “For the weekend” she would reply.

Reviews

[GenevaCnwy]

Well, this certainly sucked me in. Nicely done.

[MrJodie]

Magnificently exotic and romantic... and casual with just a hint of barely hidden longing. It is a good beginning and wonderfully seductive.

Very nice.

There are a few typos. Why does that bother me? Perfectionists should not wander the streets un-chaperoned...

Really looking forward to seeing where you're going to let this go.