Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
Last week, I returned from a two week holiday in sunny Spain. After my break I was tanned, totally relaxed and more than anything, ready to get back to work! I like to think that my regulars miss me when I'm away – and I was right. As soon as I was back in town, I got a call saying that Mark, one of my favourite clients, wanted to take me out for lunch.
Mark was heading off to Chicago for a business trip in a couple of days’ time, so he wanted to relax for an afternoon before he left. We were due to meet at one of the best restaurants in Chelsea, just round the corner from my apartment. I knew that I'd have to look my best – and luckily, my holiday had left me with a gorgeous tan. My long blonde hair looked even brighter next to my bronzed skin, and I decided on a fitted red dress to accentuate my figure. It may not have been as sunny outside as the Spanish beach I was laying on just days earlier, but I was certainly hoping to bring a little heat to this lunch date.
It doesn't matter how often I see a particular client, I always get excited before a date. Mark has been hiring me for a few years now, and we've done everything from cosy nights in to parties in exclusive clubs. His car pulled up outside the restaurant at one o'clock on the dot, and I smiled and waved. As he stepped out onto the pavement, he cast an admiring glance up and down my body. “Hello Blondie,” he said. He'd called me that on our first date, and it's been his nickname for me ever since. “You look gorgeous,” he said, kissing me on each cheek. Now, I'm not unaware that I'm a good looking girl – but his words made me blush.
Lunch was delicious, and the company even better. Mark asked me about my holiday, and I turn asked him about his upcoming business trip. He was excited, but knew that it was going to be a fairly stressful fortnight. It was for that reason that he'd booked our date today; to totally unwind before his trip. I knew that he was a fan of my massages, so my mind started to wander as I thought about what might happen after lunch.
As the waiter took our finished dishes away, I felt Mark's foot brush against my calf under the table. He looked at me and raised a single eyebrow. I knew this was my cue to say if I wanted to stay for dessert or not – and I'd already made up my mind. My apartment wasn't even five minutes away, and I wanted as much time alone with Mark before his trip. The waiter came over, and before he could ask us if there was anything else we'd like, I stopped him. “Just the bill please,” I said. “We'll be having some dessert back at mine.” Mark laughed – but I'm not sure the waiter knew where to look!