Damon was no slouch in that area.
As Friday approached, he had instances where he would see her and his heart would sigh like a lost soul. Minutes later he would see her again and he would suddenly become all too aware of the urgent ache in his groin as he indulged in carnal thoughts about the evening.
Even as she appeared at the entrance to the restaurant and waved to him, in that moment, part of him wanted to just hold her and move slowly to the music of some waltzing rhapsody and another part of him wanted to grab her, drag her to his car, and just take her right there in the back seat.
Damon desperately needed to find a focus with this woman if he wanted to move ahead with her one way or the other.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she pulled up her chair and sat down, “The bus took so long.”
“I know. Traffic’s bad. But that’s okay, I wasn’t here too long,” he replied, “And you’ll let me drive you home tonight, right?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I can take the bus,” Clara said as she picked up the menu.
“No. You’re going to let me drive you home,” Damon said realizing too late he may have spoken a little too firmly. Clara looked up with a quizzical expression. He flashed an awkward smile.
“Okay,” she said calmly, “That’d be very nice of you.” She quickly returned to looking at her menu.
“No problem,” he said trying to contain his stiff smile. But it was a problem. He had absolutely no control over how the date was progressing. To some extent, it was his own fault as he couldn’t decide what he wanted from her. Being able to drive her home would at least extend his time to think about this.
They didn’t say much until they had ordered. When they did start the conversation, Clara did most of the talking and Damon was more than content to listen and to watch her. She was wearing a plain pale blue skirt that hung just above her knees and another white cotton shirt with a simple pattern design around the v-neck collar. Her hair was in a half bun, deliberately pulled wisps of hair flowing down in the back. It was decidedly casual except for one small hook. Around her neck she wore a tight velvet choker with a gold heart pendant. It was almost downright sexy resting around her soft white neck and Damon undeniably was aroused whenever he gazed at it.
He found lots of things to look at as she talked. Aside from her attire and her glowing face and hair, her hands were very animated as she talked. The more passionate she was about her topic, the quicker she would speak and the more animated her hands became. And she was passionate about many things including her love of music, her family, traveling, and her spirituality. Her beliefs were admirable, even compelling as they defined her as a person, which is what Damon had found so alluring. But he knew that spirit could be an obstacle as well if he decided he wanted to explore more intimate roads with her.
Strangely enough, with this thought in mind, Damon’s eyes tightened and he drew his mouth into a fine line smile. The challenge of getting past her convictions had become attractive in itself.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked with a coy grin.
His mind was starting to run in a smooth rhythm again, “Just thinking how much I enjoy just listening to you…and watching you as we talk. You seem to speak just with your hands.”
For the first time that night she blushed, “It’s a bad habit. I wave my hands around too much. I talk too much.” She folded her hands together and lowered her stare to the table silently.
“You have lots to talk about,” Damon said.
“No. I just go on and on sometimes.”
Damon tilted and lowered his head trying to meet her eyes. When he did, he placed a hand on top of hers as she rested it on the table and said firmly, “No. You don’t.”
Clara warmed to such an honest remark. She looked into his light brown eyes and felt more at ease. The conversation became more comfortable. She didn’t pull away from his hand.
Damon’s confidence swelled.
They talked through dinner, through dessert, and through seconds of coffee. They decided to forego trying for a movie, instead lingering in the restaurant long after the family crowd had gone. Several more times throughout the evening, Damon reached out and touched her hand and by the end of their dinner, she was doing the same.
Clara smiled inside. She realized she was actually developing an attraction for him. He had an honest smile and expressive, handsome face. And he seemed genuinely interested in her as a person.
He still hadn’t decided how he wanted the night to end.
As they got up to leave the restaurant, Clara noted something bright gold twinkle at his collar. Damon reached under his collar and pulled out a necklace and pendant, a simple gold crucifix.
“That’s really nice,” Clara said, almost pleased by the sight of it, “But there’s something wrong.”
Damon looked down at it around his neck and frowned. He watched as her hands reached for the pendant.
“The clasp has slipped to the front,” she said holding the pendant and adjusting the necklace. She stared at it as she did so and added, “Now you can make a wish.”
Damon had his eyes on her as she was looking at and holding his pendant. “What?” he asked.
“I moved the clasp to the back,” she answered, “You’re supposed to make a wish.”
She lowered the pendant against the top of his chest, gently stroking the tips of her fingers around its shape before pulling her hand away. Then she turned and headed for the restaurant exit.
Still standing at the table, Damon was breathing deeply. He watched her skirt sway seductively to the graceful motions of her hips. He had made his wish when she had touched his chest.
***********
Their conversation didn’t stop while in the car. If anything it got more raucous as they joked and teased one another. Damon liked the way Clara’s voice lilted and emoted, and he loved her fresh unhindered laugh. His body tingled each time she would reach out and touch his shoulder and then he would smile when she would say with the utmost honesty, “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t distract you when you’re driving.”
Truth was, Damon’s driving was on automatic already. It was her perfume that had got to him, a light, unobtrusive scent that wafted gently to him. It was sweet like her. Not sweet like the smell of flowers, but sweet AS flowers. Often at work, without turning his head, Damon knew Clara was or had been in the vicinity just by the indescribably sweet scent of hers. Now in the enclosed confines of the car, the heady aroma seductively wrapped all around him, whetting his appetite for her.
They pulled into the driveway of a large detached home. There were no lights, the big yard entirely in the dark.
Damon peered from behind the wheel, “Looks like nobody’s home.”
“Actually, my landlords live in the house and they’re away in Florida. I’m renting the basement,” she said, then frowned as she unbuckled her seat-belt, “The entrance is through the back.”
“It looks pretty dark,” Damon remarked.
“I forgot to switch on the patio lights before I left,” Clara sighed.
She had already pulled the handle on the door before Damon realized the night was ending abruptly. He started to speak, “Uh, Clara…”
“Thank you for the dinner,” she said with a beaming smile as she stepped out of the car. She leaned back in and continued, “I had a nice time, Damon. A really nice time. See you at work Monday?”
Damon was stuck in a pregnant pause trying to find the words he wanted to speak. In that moment, he suddenly caught another glimpse down the neck of her shirt. He stole a quick look, then up to the fetching choker around her neck, and then finally her deep attractive eyes. There was a nudge in the crotch of his pants. He switched off the engine, opened the door and got out.
Clara stepped back on her side of the car, holding the door, a startled expression on her face.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said suddenly.
Almost as quickly she snapped, “No it’s okay!”
“No. It’s not okay. It’s dark back there, Clara,” he remarked.
“I know. I’ve done this before. I forget to turn on the lights and I come home-”
“Well, I’m here so I might as well help you to your door, right?” he said cutting her off. Without letting her reply he began making his way to the side of the house. He looked back to her.
She had still been standing beside the car, watching him. Reluctantly, she closed the door and walked towards him.
“Thank you,” she said softly but without looking at him.
He smiled and nodded, letting her pass by him. He followed behind her. The sweet scent of her perfume mingled with the smell of the cool night air and the fresh earthy smell of the garden in the backyard, illuminated by the glow of the moon. As they made their way through the back, Clara looked back at him. She flashed a nervous smile when she saw him looking right at her. Damon swallowed back the eager anticipation racing up his gut. He could sense he was taking control of the evening. More importantly for him, a sense of clarity had fallen upon him. Frozen in the moment, standing behind her, absorbing her smell, admiring her slender and soft form, drawn to her indomitable spirit. He would answer the yearning in his gut, and the illicit desires in his heart and mind.
Tonight, whether she sensed it now or not, this sweet angel Clara was going to have her wings clipped.
They reached her door. Clara pulled out her keys and inserted it in the lock. Damon leaned up on the side of the house, staring at her, grinning at her.
“Thank you again,” she said even more softly, only glancing at him from the side of her eyes, feeling his own upon her. She worked the lock, her keys rattling. There was a click. She quickly turned the knob.
“Can I come in?” Damon said.
Clara hesitated. Still looking at the door, she exhaled a long breath and then turned to him, her hand never leaving the knob. “I-…no, maybe we…I’m sorry maybe I should just go to bed. It’s been a long week and I’m tired…”
Damon found her sudden skittishness to be too much to resist. He pressed his advantage, leaning in and speaking with a slick tongue, “Come on Clara. Let me in.”
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