Fantasy

She waits sitting at the bar wearing a beautifully tailored suit and gorgeous black Manolo Blahnik heels she’s picked for the occasion. A hint of her lacy bustier peeks out from behind her blazer where she’s undone the first button. She runs her finger along the rim of her wine glass and lets the back heel of her shoe dangle off, wondering whether he has arrived yet, and is observing her from a distance. She takes a quick look around and scans the room. No sign of him yet. She returns to her drink and takes a sip.

What she hadn’t noticed, however, was that he had arrived, about 10 minute before her. He sat in the darkest corner of the room, and had watched as she walked in from the cold, checked in her coat, unbuttoned her blazer, and taken her seat at the bar. He knew she would order her favourite glass of Shiraz, and nervously play with her hair all while seductively posing herself for his arrival. He had gone to the extra trouble of putting on his charcoal suit combined with the white crisp shirt he knew she loved. Even he knew he looked good for a change, as he hated to get dressed up, but she loved when he looked as if he’d just walked off the cover of GQ Magazine. In some ways she was so predictable, like a pair of comfortable old slippers that you look forward to putting on at the end of a hard day’s work. Yet, there she was, the sexiest thing he had ever seen, not sure what was going to happen next.

She wondered where he was, and whether he had changed his mind. It wasn’t like him to be late. She checks her cell phone in case she’s missed a message, noticing it’s been 20 minutes since she’s arrived. As she takes her last sip of wine thinking maybe she’d better head home, another glass appears in front of her, ‘from the gentleman in the corner’ says the bartender. She swivels around to see whom it’s from, but there’s nothing there but a shadow. Is it him she wonders? The cell phone, still in her hand suddenly beeps, startling her so she jumps back nearly falling off of her stool. Shit! Not sexy, she thinks. She hears the shadow chuckle. She’d recognize that noise anywhere. It’s him, and he’s been watching her all along.

He tries to stifle his laugh, as she scrambles to regain her composure. She reads his text, and smiles, a wave of relief washing over her. He sees her relax as she breathes out a heavy sigh, and takes a sip of her drink. She slowly crosses her legs, with a smirk on her face, and starts texting him back. She loves this game, playing seductress…taking it outside the bedroom. He looks down at his phone, to see it’s lit up. ‘Let’s play’ it says. He looks back to the bar where she was sitting, only to see an empty chair. He quickly walks over, and asks the bartender where she’s gone. The bartender says nothing, but slides over a matchbook. He knows what’s inside even before he’s opened it; he’s seen it before. He gave it to her the first night they met, all those years ago, and there right next to his old email address, she’s written: Husband, I’m waiting in room 314.