Wine Bar Afternoon

We both had the afternoon free and decided to meet at a local wine bar for drinks. We’d met once before but had basically just gotten right to the fucking. I was interested to see if we could hang out in public without it being weird or uncomfortable. (I’d recently discovered that sometimes people you have chemistry with when naked are not necessarily people you want to chat with over wine in public).

When I arrived, he stood up and we had a brief hug and cheek kiss, then warm, flirty smiles on both sides and I thought, “Hmmm, this might be OK”.

We ordered drinks and sat in the archway of an outdoor patio. Not out in the wind, but close enough to feel the warm summer air. The wine was good and the conversation was easy. There was a convention of some sort at a nearby hotel so we ended up spending the better part of the afternoon picking out convention goers at other tables and concocting stories about their lives.

“See how she keeps touching her neck?” I say, nodding towards a young blonde with mile-long legs, lunching with a pair of fifty-something businessmen. “She is totally leading them on!”

“They’re loving every minute of it,” he says quietly. “See how the one on the left keeps changing position? He’s probably hard right now.”

This went on for a couple of hours at least, first the blonde and her associates, then a mother with two adult daughters. “I think that’s the daughter, look how she pouts when the older woman talks.” Then two women who clearly hadn’t seen each other in awhile, maybe college friends, one smartly dressed, one casually dressed. A group of IT workers (we assumed due to the snippets of conversation we heard and the phones-on-belts fashion statements) smoking e-cigarettes.

It was fun and easy. Discussing the other bar patrons made me feel like we were secret agents or social scientists or something. Speaking in low tones so we had to lean in to hear each other was sexy and sweet. Glancing at each other knowingly when one of the patrons did something to confirm our concocted scenarios. I was sure I hadn’t spent such a lovely afternoon in ages.

On the train on the way back to his place, we sat next to a tourist couple and their toddler. He was closest to them and engaged them in conversation for the whole trip, talking about what brought them to the city, their travels, teasing the toddler. (Seriously, is there anything hotter than a man who can comfortably interact with kids? Well, yes, but it surely ranks right up there). The whole time he talked, he had my hand in his down by his side, unseen. He played my fingers and scratched my palm and just held it, simply. All the while carrying on this lighthearted conversation. As if his hand was telling me, “Just wait till I get you alone.” And his mouth was telling me, “look at what a comfortable, charming, well-adjusted person I am.” It was heady.

I participated in the conversation as much as my addled brain (that hand!) and my position at the end of the row allowed. I was charmed and turned on (so turned on) and I just wanted to get back and put that hand somewhere else.

Don’t worry. I did, or, more accurately, he did.