3. First Date

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Finally, after some disappointing starts, I connected with a woman named Roxy – her screen name, she explained. Too dangerous to share personal information until trust has been established.

A week and a half, now. Intriguing online chats, but other than knowing she loves fine dining, great wine, sailing and travelling, I still don't know who she is. I stared at her avatar on my phone app, wondering whether I'd recognise her. She said the hair and the cleavage are close, but the face is stock anime. Such different security concerns, men and women. I've nothing but this and her username.

Shrugging, I switched the phone to silent and pocketed it. She'll recognise me from my profile photo, and she has my first name, both screen and real – and this phone number – so no need to worry.

As I entered the restaurant, Susan looked up from the reception podium and beamed a smile. "Good evening, Mr Dunstrom." Then nodding across the lobby, she continued, "Your guest has arrived – at least I assume it's her – said she's meeting a man named Alex or Xander for dinner."

"Thank you, Susan." Hmmm! Twelve minutes early. I scanned the crowd in the holding area, seeing no singles. Then as I examined the women's hair and chests, I wondered why Roxy had mentioned cleavage. To help me identify her? Suggestive?

I stopped my search and turned to Susan. "I've not met her. Which is she?"

She tilted her chin up. "To the left, talking to the two men in suits."

"Oh!" Maybe I should abandon this. Dine alone. Too old to play games. Try the old-fashioned route – introductions. Am I even ready to start over?

A waving arm interrupted my thoughts as the woman headed toward me. "Your photo doesn't do you justice, Xander."

I nodded as I took a few steps and reached out my hand to shake. "Thanks, and you're far better than your avatar, Roxy." I tilted my head toward the two men. "Are your friends joining us?"

"No." her face reddened, and she shook her head. After a pause, she continued, "No, just some acquaintances."

"Fine, then." I turned to Susan. "We'll go in now."

While Susan led us through the rooms, Roxy resembled a bobblehead, gawping at everything. Then after we had been seated, I said, "It appears you've not before dined at Chambéry."

"My first time here. So sumptuous, so elegant, so refined."

"Where do you usually dine?"

"Earls, Cactus Club..." She paused and put a hand to her mouth. "When I want casual."

"And for the fine dining? You had said you enjoy that."

I watched her face redden as she pursed her lips. Then she shrugged and said, "I cook."

"For one?"

"And my cat."

"Carrying on from before." I sighed. "I did that for a long time."

"How do you mean?"

"Grieving. Lost. Directionless."

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"Hmmm! What do..."

I paused as the sommelier approached and said, "Good evening. What may I bring you to drink?"

I waited for Roxy's response, and when it didn't come, I said, "I had thought a glass of Champagne. Would you care for one?"

"Oh, yes, please."

Then turning to the sommelier, I asked, "What are we pouring this evening?"

"The Taitanger Brut, the Pommery Rosé and the '08 la Grande Dame, sir."

"Excellent! Let's do the Clicquot."

"Yes, sir. I'll open a fresh one for you."

When the sommelier had left, Roxy gave me a puzzled look and asked, "Cleeko? I didn't hear her say that."

"La Grande Dame is Veuve Clicquot's marque de prestige."

This seemed lost on her, and as we carried on a light banter while we waited for the wine, I increasingly realised she's not who she says she is. Pretending to share my interests. Why? Has she dug up my background? Is she – what's the word? Catfishing? But Why?

I studied her face, intrigued by its light tawny colour, high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes. What lies behind that innocent look? I can make a game of this. Stop my probing and use her as an entertaining diversion while I enjoy dinner.

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