by Mack Collins
After a few minutes of deliberation I decided to wear my hair down, with a few curls towards the front. I sat at my vanity, curling my hair with the extremely hot curling iron. When I was done I breathed a sigh of relief; I always hated using these hot devices in my hair. Pulling the small jewelery box that lay in the far corner of my dresser, I slowly opened it, searching through the pile of cosmetic jewelry to find my one true treasure; my mother’s pearl necklace. “There you are,” I whispered pulling out the string of pearls and bringing it up to my neck.
“Stunning,” I assured myself, as I placed it around my neck. I looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale story book. Well maybe, a princess for one night, Cinderella perhaps, I was wearing an outfit that did not belong to me. I gave a little chuckle remembering Suzie’s words earlier on during the day, “well as of tonight you will officially be a high-class prostitute,” she had teased, knowing all too well how I deeply thought about this whole sugar daddy idea.
The blinking light on my cell phone captured my attention and as I walked closer to it, I could hear the almost silent vibrations coming out of it.
“Hey girl!” Suzie’s voice was light and airy, as I answered her call.
I replied, trying hard to not rush her off the phone. But the reality was I really did have to hurry up now. A few minutes before one of the most important dates of my life was the worst time to be chatting on the phone especially with a chatter box like Suzie.
“So are you really ready for this?” She inquired for the hundredth time of the day.
“Suzie…”I whined. “I’m ready, okay,” my voice was now little irate. I could hardly believe how she was reacting to this entire situation.
“Just making sure love,” she assured me as she quickly changed the topic.
She must have realized that her questions were getting me worked up because she shifted her attention to the food court where we worked, saying that she heard that they would be laying off some old staff.
“Well, let these people be. I don’t really care, and why should you? You have a man, who is literally begging you to stay home.”
Suzie gave a loud laugh before finally clearing her throat. “This is 2012 baby, women don’t stay home any more, and we are now out there making just as much money as the men.”
A light tapping on the front door disturbed our conversation. I ran to the door, placing her on a brief hold.
My heart pounded as I took slow steady strides to the door. If it was Alec Strong, he would be over ten minutes early. “Damn, why did I have to put myself in this situation?” I thought to myself, slowing turning the door knob clock wise.
“Who is it?” I asked wearily before answering the door. With the phone still in my hand, I opened the door slightly. A middle age man dressed in a black suit greeted me.
“Good evening ma’am, Miss Liz Slater right?” he asked giving me a single rose that he had in his hand.
A flushed look came over me. This is why most people don’t go on blind dates. This man was not the man in the photos I had seen online. He looked too short, too timid, where as the man in the photos looked energetic and full of life. “Are you Alec Strong?” I blurted out covering my mouth soon after the words came out.
“My name is Gerald; I’ll be your driver for tonight. Mr. Strong is at the restaurant awaiting your arrival,” with that he gave a slight smile before extending his hand out in a handshake.
Soon after, he led me out of my apartment.
“Whoa…” I gasped at the sight of seeing the shiny luxurious looking limousine parked out in the front of my apartment. Trying hard to conceal my excitement I walked behind him in a steady pace until we reached the parked vehicle.
He slowly opened the door allowing me the opportunity to get in. “Thanks,” I said returning the warm smile that he had given me.
The back of the limousine was interesting to say the least; soft black leather seats made my trip a comfortable one. I looked around the interior of the limo; carefully examining every inch of it while relaxing in the coolness of the ambience. Although disappointed that Alec had not taken the time out to personally come pick me up, I had to admit that I was very impressed with the fact that he had sent a limousine to pick me up. Limousines were quite expensive to rent out.
“Here we are ma’am,” the driver turned his head to the back as he spoke, pulling his extra-long car into an empty parking spot in the car park of the restaurant. He then quickly exited the vehicle and walked around the back to the open door for me. I thanked him again, stepping out of the vehicle as carefully as possible. I was terrified. “What if I tripped?” I thought to myself. I was trying to walk in a pair of six inch heels that I was not at all comfortable in.
A young woman came out of the restaurant and met me at the front door. “Miss Slater, please follow me,” she said with a warm smile on her face.
How did she know me? And where was Mr. Alec Strong?” A hint of irritation swept through my face. Now he’s just being rude, why couldn’t he come meet me at the front door?
My anger was soon replaced with amazement and admiration. The interior of the restaurant was simply divine; the décor was a mixture of modern European architecture mixed with French styled accents. It looked like one of those fancy restaurants that I had seen photos of in the magazines. No wonder it cost over a thousand dollars for dinner here. The staff was all dressed in black tuxes with bow ties fastened around their necks and they all moved in a steady pace from table to table, not briskly but professionally.
The other people inside were seated at the various tables, all very elegantly dressed, having conversations amongst themselves. It seemed to me that this was a couples’ restaurant rather than a family restaurant, because most of the tables only had seating placements for two people. How romantic, I thought to myself, looking at the band of violinists playing at the front of the room on the small stage. Just like in the movies.
We walked through the restaurant of wealthy looking patrons to a small hallway in the back. “Mr. Strong has reserved a private room back here for you,” the young woman informed me with a smile on her face. I could not tell whether it was a genuine smile or whether she was just being professional and doing her job. I wondered whether I was just one of the countless women she had seen Mr. Alec Strong wine and dine at her establishment.
“Here we are Miss,” she said, tapping the door lightly letting Mr. Strong know that his date had arrived.
“Come in sweetheart,” his voice was strong, and masculine.
The young woman opened the door slowly and encouraged me to step inside before closing the door behind me while remaining outside.
My heart raced in anticipation. What would he look like? Would he be a completely different person from what I had seen in his photos? With Photoshop and all these other photo enhancers one could no longer trust what they saw in the photos that they found online. He could have his photos altered to the point where he looked much younger than he really was? Oh God, a nauseous feeling had almost taken over my body as a knot formed in my stomach. Taking a few slow precise steps I moved into the room and approached my date. I was startled to see the features of a gorgeous, mature looking man sitting straight ahead. He sat at a lonely table that was beautifully set with candles and expensive looking china. He gave me a huge smile that seemed to light up the entire room. “Wow I thought to myself,” in disbelief, he was even more handsome in the flesh.
“Miss Slater, so nice to finally meet you,” with that he sprung to his feet and began moving towards me with his hand extended out to meet mine in a handshake. His handshake was firm and strong and his hand seemed to completely cover my tiny slender fingers.
“Mr. Strong,” I gave him a nod as he led me to my seat.
And so, I was finally here, on my date with a real sugar daddy and it surely did not seem all that bad. He was not a very old man, on the contrary he was a very attractive mature looking guy probably in his late forties or early fifties, muc
h like Joey at the bar, but with a smoother more tailored appearance.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Slater.”
“Please… You may call me Liz,” I gave him a faint smile. Every time he called me by my last name it made me feel even more nervous; like I was in an interview, and I did not like that feeling.
“Sure… and you can call me Alec or just Strong,” he gave a little chuckle as if he was amused by his own statement.
I adjusted myself into my seat before saying anything else. I had to hand it to him, I was really impressed. Here we were at one of the most expensive restaurants and he was so confident and comfortable it almost seemed like he owned the place. A few minutes later while we were conversing and getting better acquainted there was a faint knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called out from where he was seated.
A short woman dressed in her chef uniform walked straight across the room barely even noticing me.
“Your meal is ready, would you like us to serve it with the Béchamel sauce or do you want it dry?” She asked with a small note pad in her hand.
“Oh I was thinking more along the line of a butter sauce,” he gave her a little smirk, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. “Beurre Blanc if you have any?”
“Wow when they said Petite Paris, they really meant it,” I laughed to myself. Here we were in an English speaking country ordering dinner in French.
“And you Miss, did you get some time to go through our menu?”
It was then that I realized that there had been a menu in front of me all along. I just had not paid close attention to it. Silly me. In that moment a flushed look of embarrassment came over my face. I seldom had the privilege of being able to dine at such a fine extravagant restaurant. I was not even sure I would be able to hold my fork and knife in the right way. “Shit!” I muttered under my breath. They both gave me a quick stern look of surprise. Looking up quickly, I realized that they had heard me, “I – I am so sorry,” I apologized now beyond embarrassed. Diverting my attention to the menu in front of me, unable tolerate their lingering gazes.
Flipping it open quickly, I made a somewhat shocking realization – the Dishes were all in FRENCH. I would have said another vile word but I caught my tongue just in time. How could I even pronounce some of these words, the only thing I seemed to know on the menu was Hors d-oeuvres, and that I was not even quite sure of. He must have seen the confusion on my face, because of what he said next.
“There’s the English version to everything on the back of your menu. It’s just more romantic to have it in French as well,” he said with a faint smile on his face gently taking the menu and flipping through the front pages to the part in the back with the English names of the various dishes. He then handed the menu back to me. “You should try the lambe tendres,” he said in a soft voice, “that’s what I’m having.”
Taking hold of the small booklet, I flipped through the pages myself to see what else was available, although I would be ordering what he suggested I wanted to at least have an idea of what other foods the restaurant served. Tomorrow when Suzie would be ramming me about my date, I would at least be able to give her a rundown of the various dishes that they served here at Petite Paris.
“Everything looks amazing, but I’ll have the same thing he’s having. The lam…lamer…” I rolled my tongue trying to say the words exactly how he had said it minutes earlier.
“Lambre Tendres,” he said with a chuckle, articulating almost every letter so that I could make out how he had said it.
“Lumber Tenders,” I said laughing myself. Damn, if only I had actually followed along in my French 101 class I would have probably been better able to say exactly what I wanted to say.
“Don’t worry about it, you’ll have plenty of time to learn, once we get to Paris,” he said, picking up the two menus and handing it to the waitress who was standing next to him, with a faint smile on her round face.
“PARIS?” My eyes popped open. “When?” I asked curiously. Although I liked the whole idea of the romantic dinner in a French restaurant, I was not about to pick up and travel half way across the world with a stranger I had just met.
“NO worries, all in good time my dear,” he assured me as if sensing that I was uneasy about the idea.
Trying to relax, I decided to change the subject because of the almost awkward moment it had just created. “Thank you for inviting me here tonight,” I finally admitted before taking a sip of the red wine which the waitress had poured us at the beginning of the night.
“That’s absolutely no problem sweetheart. You look amazing,” he said giving me another one of his charming smiles. I could easily lose myself in his gaze and smile but it took everything in me to remain calm.
Soon the waitress came back to our private dinner and placed two plates of the scrumptious looking meal before us. I tried hard to conceal my shaky hands. “Calm down Liz,” I scolded myself silently, trying to remember exactly how to hold my cutlery.
I waited for him to pick up his knife and fork, watching him under my eye lids and then following his lead. Holding my fork in my left hand and my knife in the right, I began cutting into the food, taking in small bite sized portions while sipping on the red wine occasionally. The food was delicious and our night was amazing. We engaged in lively conversation, talking about the economic recession and the impact it has on a lot of young people. He was like a breath of fresh air, charming, funny and most importantly filthy rich and not afraid to spend his money. During the night he had ordered the most expensive wines, the most expensive dessert. Towards the end of dinner I found out that the Lambre tenders was the most expensive dish on the menu, costing him well over three thousand dollars for the two meals. I could not believe my ears when he told me the cost of it all. It felt like a dream and I did not want to wake up.
At the end of our splendid dinner Mr. Strong or Alec; did not even hand the waitress his credit card, instead he just said, “Post it to my account love.” I had never seen anyone do that before, only the wealthiest people had accounts at such expensive places like Petite Paris. Wow it seemed better than him pulling out a black credit card to pay for dinner.
Alec led me outside to the limo that he had rented out for the entire night. For a second I decided to add the cost of everything in my mind, dinner, plus the limo. As I crunched the figures in my head, I realized that he must have spent well over five thousand dollars tonight.
“So where would you like to go now gorgeous?” he asked, his face as beautiful as the starry night.
A confused look came across my face I had thought that he would have had the entire night planned out. But I guess, just like he’d said during our conversation at the table he was an on the spur of the moment type of guy.
He reached out and gently took my hands in his, pulling me in closer to him our bodies now mere inches apart. This was the closest I had been to him the entire night I could practically feel his warm breath on my body. “We can go to one of my favorite places if you want?” He had a little smirk on his face.
“And where might that be Mr. Strong?” I teased.
“Las Vegas sweetheart,” his eyes lit up as he spoke. “And remember what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas baby. So no worries,” he pulled me even closer brushing his soft lips against mine.
I purred, he was as seductive as a Sex God. In that moment I wanted to do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted to go. He noticed how receptive I was towards him and immediately seized the moment, parting my lips with his tongue and exploring the insides of my mouth. I kissed him back, allowed his tongue to enthrall me. Our kiss ended leaving us both light headed. As we continued walking to the limo I realized something else. How would we get to Las Vegas at this time of the night, I was almost sure that there were no flights to Nevada right now. I knew he had the money to pay for the tickets, but my question was how would we get there?
“What’s wrong?” He asked with a worried look on his face.
“Oh it’s nothing much,” I said trying to brush it off.
“No there’s something the matter, I can tell something’s on your mind,” he cupped my face in his hand and gave me a concerned look.
“Well…I was just wondering how we’re going to get to Las Vegas at this time,” I looked down at the small gold wrist-watch I had on, it was almost midnight.
His face relaxed a little and the worried look disappeared, he gave a little chuckle. “You worry too much.” His lips met mine once more and he gave me another hot wet passionate kiss.
“I’m rich baby, I don’t take the commercial plane, and I OWN a plane, love,” he had a hint of arrogance in his voice.
“What?” A shocked look came across my face. I had heard about people who were so wealthy that they owned their own private jet, but never had I met one of them in real life.
“Don’t worry I just have to make a quick call and we’ll be on our way,” he informed me as he pulled out his smart phone.
“Really,” I tried desperately to hide my excitement. I did not want to seem like an excited kid at the toy store. “Well I don’t mind going there, if that’s what you feel like doing,” I finally said as calmly as I possibly could.
“GREAT! Exactly the answer I was hoping for,” with that he held his phone up to his mouth and spoke loudly into it. “Berry,” he said firmly.
“Calling Berry,” the automated female voice out from the phone stated. Immediately he placed the device next to his ear and in a few seconds he was requesting Berry to pick us up that airport.
****
