As promised, I have a new confession...I felt pretty good getting ready to go out last night. I wore a black V-neck shirt that showed some cleavage, new jeans that looked good, and open-toed high heel shoes. With a spritz of perfume, some lip gloss, one last check of my hair, and a wink of approval from DH, I was out the door.
After drinks with my friend, I decided not to stay at the Mexican place (where I kissed The Tongue Stud) because there didn’t seem to be any prospects. I am a creature of habit, so I drove the short distance to the hip and trendy bar that I have grown to feel comfortable in. DH and I went there together recently, but the place was dead on that occasion. It was busier and full of promise last night.
I sat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. I glanced around the room, taking mental notes on the people in the place. While I did not identify a possible playmate right away, it seemed like there were a few men who might have potential. I sat alone for about an hour, just sipping my wine and keeping my antennae alert. I spied a tall man a few barstools over to my left drinking a beer. He was alone, and caught me looking his way a few times. Each time I would glance away as if embarrassed that he saw me checking him out. I felt the butterflies in my stomach when he got up and walked my way… right past me toward the door. *sigh*
All this time there had been a couple, seated between the tall man and me. Every once in a while I would catch a bit of their conversation, and eventually asked the woman to watch my seat while I went to the restroom. When I came back, I was pleased to see the tall man had also returned. When the couple between us paid their tab and left, I hoped that the tall man would move over. No such luck. He moved to a spot that afforded him a better view of Sports Center on the TV. Oh well.
I was chatting with a bartender when the guy who had been part of the couple came back. The bartender asked, “So, you’re back?” with a raised eyebrow. The guy said that his match(dot)com date was not a match. The bartender and I laughed at this announcement.“I’ll have another beer”, the guy said, and sat in the empty seat next to me. We began chatting about why there was no love connection tonight and his other failed dates from the internet. Then his date texted him to thank him and let him know she made it home safely. He also got a text from a male friend who had also been on a first date with similar results.
For the first time, I began to notice this guy: light brown hair, nice smile, light eyes, about 5’9”, height and weight proportional… overall, not bad! Things were looking up, and I began to wonder where things might lead…
We carried on an intelligent conversation about many things, and maintained eye contact the entire time. Over the course of an hour and a half we talked about dating, sports, wineries, jobs and travel. When he told me that he’s a pilot for a major airline, I immediately conjured up an image of him in his uniform – very hot!
He seemed pleased that I wanted to stick around for another drink and talk more. I never mentioned being married, but did not hide my wedding ring. The Pilot never asked who I went to Europe with when we talked about travel, or inquired when I used plural pronouns such as us and we. We talked for along time with out any hint of physical contact, other than a firm handshake when we eventually exchanged names. I began to wonder if he was being respectful or if I just wasn’t his type. He did notice and comment on my red toenails peeking out of my 'sexy shoes' (his words), so I began to feel hopeful. I decided that if I wanted something to happen I was going to have to make the first move.
“So, back to the gal from match(dot)com,” I said with my hands out in front of me like a scale. “Based on your hopes for your date tonight, who met your expectations better, her… or me?” I asked as my hands teetered like a balance when I said our names.
“No contest. YOU.”
“Really?” I inquired coyly.
“Yes, you. You are much more intelligent, and sexier,” he said.
“Have you noticed anything about me?”
“Well, I noticed you, drinking your wine while I was on my date. You are the reason I came back for another beer,” he answered.
“You came back to see me?”
“Yes. I kept thinking about kissing your entire body while she was still here.”
“Oh, thank you," I blushed, "but what I meant was, have you figured something out about me?”
“You mean the wedding ring? Yeah, I saw it. So what brings you to this bar alone if you are married?”
And that is when I explained my situation and being a hotwife. He seemed to understand that sharing me is a fantasy/turn on for DH, then asked, “So, what is in it for you?”
“I like the thrill of flirting with a stranger. I was a bit of a wallflower and a late bloomer before I got married, so I enjoy this chance to try things I might have missed out on. Plus, it adds spice to our sex life when I tell DH all about what happens when I go out.”
“Has this arrangement worked well for you two?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “So, if you use relationship websites to look for dates, you are probably looking for something more than a random hook up, and yet you have been sitting here with me for hours, knowing I am married,” I said.
Just then, a woman on his other side asked if he could scoot over so she could squeeze in another stool. We were now very close to each other. We grinned at our new proximity and locked eyes. “Did you pay her to do that?” I jokingly asked. We chuckled.
“No, but I am not complaining, are you?” he teased. “Back to your comment... Yes, I would someday like to find a woman to settle down with, but I am not opposed to releasing some energy with physical contact once in a while.” I knew what he was implying, but was caught off guard by his next statement.
“I want to take you to my house and touch you, kiss you, and feel your body against mine.”
I looked at my watch. It was 2:15 am. “I am afraid it is just too late for that, but you could kiss me here.” His body slouched in disappointment. I felt bad. If only he hadn’t been such a gentleman for so long… I would have taken him up on his offer but it was really too late for me.
“Can I at least walk you to your car and give you a good night kiss there?” he suggested.
“That I can do,” I said. We walked out to the parking garage. “I have an idea. Why don’t we go sit in your car instead of going to my mom-mobile and see what happens.”
His smile and the way he offered his arm to escort me let me know that this idea met with his approval.
Off we went…
(edited to add a key detail post publishing)