Mitch was checking all her boxes.
In addition to looking great and smelling fantastic, she loved the way he escorted her from the car to the fine dining restaurant he chose and to the cozy booth he requested with the lightest guiding hand at her back. He was kind to their server even as he complained on Emma's behalf about the portion of her dinner. While his steak and sides filled his whole plate, her order of agnolotti consisted of six measly envelopes of white corn, sage, and mascarpone cheese. She asked him not to say anything, but he insisted. The server was apologetic and offered to get the manager, but Mitch told him not to bother and ordered an extra plate.
"You didn't have to do that," Emma said.
"How am I supposed to steal one of yours if you only have six?"
"You took all my beer and left me one, remember?"
"I'll make it up to you," he said, like it was his every intention.
He asked about her career and she did the same. He told her about how he'd travelled as an announcer but not nearly as much as he did when he was a reporter.
"Did you like it?"
"The job, yes. The travelling, not so much. I felt like I had to choose between being clean or rested, 'cause I could never seem to be both at the same time. My ex-wife, Brenda, hated it. I gave her such a hard time for nagging me, grilling me, really, constantly about whether I was being faithful or not on the road. It would piss me off because I knew what everyone else was doing. I could have too, believe me, but I didn't. By the end of things, though, maybe I only didn't mess around to spite her so she wouldn't be right. I don't know. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been mad that she was calling my hotels all the time. I should've called her so she didn't feel she had to. But that was a hundred years ago. Have you ever been married?"
"No."
"Ever been close?"
"No. My last boyfriend was my longest relationship. Three years. I used to think of us as living together between two apartments, but the truth is he only left his toothbrush at my place, and not even in the bathroom, in a travel kit, in my nightstand drawer. But that's why I was able to travel so much with work, and I loved it. I love variety. Hotels always feel glamorous to me, even the dinky ones. It just can't be my life anymore with Gabe, and I've come to terms with that. There's lots of stuff I can do within the company. Who knows what's next."
"How'd you get started there?"
"I thought I wanted to be a hairdresser. I didn't go to school for it, but I got a job as a shampoo girl when I was eighteen. The boss used to give classes on Tuesdays and I learned pretty quickly I had no hair skills whatsoever. I just liked to talk to people. About a year in, I got called to serve jury duty on a two-month long trial. It gave me a lot of time to think about things, and when it was done, I quit the salon and went into sales."
Mitch's forehead crinkled. "Two-months? What kind of case was it?"
"Aggravated assault. A guy shot a gas station attendant in the shoulder but claimed it wasn't him even though he was caught on camera. He insisted on representing himself, which was a joke. I think he was hoping for a mistrial, but the judge had the patience of a saint and wouldn't give him one. Imagine, he called his girlfriend to the stand and said, 'Where was I on the night of the whatever-eth?' and she said, 'Shootin' that poor man at the gas station, idiot. It's on the tape!'"
"Get out of here!" Mitch scoffed.
"I swear! You can look it up."
"Well, then come over here and let's order dessert."
He patted the booth next to him and she scooted over. He placed an arm behind her while she ordered apple pie and he ordered a chocolate mousse. They ate from each other's plates with her hand resting on his thigh under the table. She'd never felt so relaxed on a first date, not at least, while having the mad hots for someone. That they knew how it was going to end was maybe why it was easy for both to be so comfortably affectionate. It eliminated the guesswork and assumptions. For example, if she climbed on his lap then and there and sucked the mousse off his lower lip like she was dying to, she wouldn't have to worry about him taking it the wrong way. Likewise, his fingers gliding up and down her bare shoulders, sometimes playing with the tail of her halter's ribbon tie, didn't mean that he wanted to hurry her home and undo it, did it? Even if it did.
A nice, slow, burn, see?
When the bill arrived, Mitch took care of it. Emma checked her phone to make sure Gabe didn't need her for anything. There was a message from Janet.
"Everything okay?" Mitch asked.
"Yes," Emma said, letting the word stretch out while she decided to tell him what it said. "Janet and Colby are just asking if Gabe can sleep over since the show started late. They'll drop him off to get his school stuff in the morning."
"And you said?"
She bit the tip of her finger and looked at him. "His carpool leaves at eight."
He cleared his throat for comic effect, shifting in his seat. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"I used to, but it's been a while."
"It means we're going out for drinks."
*****
They went to a dark lounge with live music up the street, and over two drinks, Mitch ticked more boxes. Back at the building, it was Emma who headed for Mitch's straight out of the elevator. It still didn't have to mean anything, she thought, knowing exactly what she meant.
Mitch's apartment was the mirror layout of hers, but for some reason his terrace was wider with enough room for a little bench in front of a fake fire pit. He turned it on with a switch and offered to make coffee. "I'll put a blanket out there so we can get cozy," he said.
While he was in the kitchen, Emma looked around.
"How come your terrace is so big, anyway? Mine's just a little balcony."
"Because you're just little," he called out.
"I'll be tanning out there in July."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
He had only a few pieces of baseball memorabilia decorating his living room. Framed on one wall was an article about his career with the headline 'The Voice of Summer' over a sexy shot of Mitch leaning against his car. Underneath it, on a shelf, were pictures of a man with the same kind eyes. His father, she assumed.
"Are these pictures your dad?"
"They are."
"He was handsome. He has a sweet face."
"He was the best," he said. "I always felt like he loved being my dad because he almost wasn't. He and my mother were going together in college when she got pregnant. Dad proposed, but she knew she wasn't ready to be a mom. She was studying law and it was going to get in the way. She talked about putting me up for adoption, and my old man said he'd do it himself. And he did."
"Did your mom ever try to get in touch with you?"
"She tried when I was sixteen. I didn't want anything to do with her then. When dad was sick, he urged me to reach out and she was very sweet. She has three grown kids, so I guess I have half-siblings. We don't talk often. They're all very nice. They're just not family."
He came out holding a tray with two cups of coffee on saucers.
"Look at the presentation," Emma beamed.
"I do make the best coffee. Dad ran a diner in the Junction. Best all-day breakfast in the city. Taught me everything I know."
Seeing him trying to open the sliding door to his terrace with his foot just did it for Emma. "Is that your way of asking me how I like my eggs in the morning?"
He turned with a surprised smile. "Are you placing an order?"
She hid her blush in her shoulder, giving him a come-hither eyelash bat. Her heart was racing.
He put the tray down on his table, and as he slowly walked towards her, she moved to sit on the arm of his couch. "Is the kitchen still open," she asked shyly.
"For you," he said, a leg now on either side of one of her knees, "it's open twenty-four-seven."
He bent to kiss her deeply. Every part of her body wanted to respond. She undid the buttons of his cardigan and tugged to get him to slide out of it. His lips were on such a mission as she did it that she nearly lost her balance and fell back on the couch. They both laughed as he caught her and helped her to her feet. She started to feel up his chest and stomach, loving the solid softness of a firm but not defined washboard. He just seized her then, with his mouth, with his arms, with hands roving from the ribbon knot at her neck to her breasts to her buttocks via the sides of her one-piece.
"How do I get in here?" he chuckled against her cheek. Emma suddenly remembered her boob-tape. She'd never undressed in front of a man wearing it. What if she looked like a second-hand store mannequin? Oh, well. She had to peel it slowly anyway. It would look like a strip tease.
Because she'd paused kissing with the thought, Mitch asked if she was okay.
"God, yes," she said, throwing her arms around him. They starting making out in the direction of his bedroom.
He bumped her up against the wall in the hallway and she raised both arms over her head. As he kissed the line of exposed skin down her chest, she said, breathlessly, "But I still don't want it to get weird,"
Mitch now nuzzled at her jaw and ear. "We don't have to do anything. It's okay."
"I mean eventually," Emma said with her fingers in his hair. "If it's too much, we'll put the brakes on it, right?"
"Whatever you want. I'll still be sweet on you, but whatever you want."
They moved together down the hall to finally reach his room. She stopped him in the doorframe.
"About sleeping together tonight. I don't know -"
He dropped his head, letting it hang for a second before he straightened up. "We can wait," he said, catching his breath and trying not to look disappointed.
Emma couldn't keep from smiling the biggest smile. "I just mean if we stay here, then I have to be back at my place early, or you have to leave mine before Gabe gets home."
"Oh," Mitch said, stopping a sexy grin short. "I'm going to stop talking now."
"Grab your toothbrush. We're going to my place," Emma decided.
He grabbed her hand instead and was already halfway to the front door.
"Fuck it," he said. "I can just reach across from yours to get it later."
*Jan 19, 2024,
Hey everyone!
Is it good? Are we swooning?? Do they make guys like this anymore??? Let me know what you think.
To my super silent readers, I really do love and appreciate the reads, but if you appreciate the writing, do a girl a favour and throw her a vote, would ya? ;) ♡
-Steff xo