Choosing Her Lover

Seated at the bar, he is watching the door as I walk in. He stands as he sees me, smiling. “Debbie?”

“Ryan?”

He looks good enough to eat. Beckoning me to the barstool by him, “What can I get you?”

“Red wine, please. Did I keep you waiting long?”

“Not at all, I just arrived a couple of minutes ago.”

As he waves over the barman, I study him. Ryan understated himself in his profile; tall, with strapping shoulders and a lean fit build. Dark, slightly wavy hair and a light tan set off his white smile and dark eyes.

He is disconcertingly attractive. There’s usually a reason that someone who looks this good is on the dating circuit, even when it’s only for sex dating.

Fourth finger, left hand…. No, nothing there….

Nice hands though…. long fingers….

Holding two glasses of wine, Ryan eye-points me across the room. “I hope I’m not out of order here, but I booked us a table. Even if we can’t stand the sight of each other after a couple of hours, at least we’ll have a good meal inside us.”

He sees me looking askance at the table. Holding both hands up, almost warding me away, “Hey, it doesn’t mean I’m making any assumptions other than it’s the end of the working day, and I’m guessing that you’re hungry. I certainly am.”

Feeling foolish. “Yes, sorry. My suspicious nature….”

He looks at me oddly.

Weighing me up?

I think so, yes.

“Shall we sit?”

He seats himself opposite me, ignoring his wine, gazing at me. Chin propped on a fist, he is, very obviously, looking me up and down.

“So, what’s the deal?” he asks. “Women who look like you don’t tend to appear on dating sites like that one. There’s generally some guy in the background beating the jungle drums.” He glances down at my left hand. “And if you ever wore a wedding ring, there’s no sign of it now. Have you ever been married? For that matter, are you married now? Is this supposed to be some kind of ‘on the side’, ‘playing away from home’ kind of thing?”

He's wary of me….

“Is this ‘Twenty Questions’? Yes, I’ve been married. But no, not now. Been there, done that….”

He laughs. “…. Seen the movie, read the book, got the tee-shirt, eh? That bad, was it?”

“Oh, yes, that bad. But I’ve got control of my own life now, and I’ll not be letting it slip out of my fingers again.”

He sniffs, reflectively I think. Not critically. “That’s why you’re doing this? You don’t want entanglements?”

“That’s right. What about you?”

relationship was a bit of a nightmare. Just

yourself justice you know, on your profile. Very few women describe themselves as

where

you a liar? A

pretty. Your features are

laughing. “You’re a silver-tongued

furrows. “Have I offended you?

out with some typical

sits back in his chair, holding my eyes, rubbing his

think you’re pretty, doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive. Quite the contrary. You’re just…. unusual, in more ways than

“You can ask.”

really your

you think I’m going to hand out my details to anyone before I’ve had a chance to

It’s quite dangerous doing what you’re doing, especially for

the rules. No name. No address.

Have you

them I manage to weed out at the e-mail and messaging

intrigued.

cream. Y’know, a Richard Burton, or Morgan Freeman, or Alan Rickman kind of voice. But when I

cocks his head.

all but pinned me into my seat. He kept coming too

“What did you do?”

which it hadn’t… and we must do this again sometime….

he was really a screwball, or if it was just

started coming in within five minutes of

“In what way, strange?”

odd; revolting actually. I’m pretty broadminded, but I wasn’t interested in going the places his mind roamed. I don’t know if he imagined it was some kind

Not at all. But after an experience like

like him. And I’m not afraid of men in general. I just

How do you know that a man you meet like this isn’t a psycho in

know that? How do you know that the woman you meet in the theatre, or the

taken. I

“So….?”

strictly a casual thing. You’re

me. I don’t want to be tied at the hip. I like a bit of fun a couple of times

dreams of white

“White horses?”

you off for happily-ever-afters in some far away

I laugh. “Not me.”

“And would this be, um…. exclusive?” he

to pass by every few weeks… and you want