Sealed With A Kiss

6

"I'M KINDA surprised you messaged," Delia looked at me with those blue eyes of hers. Her eyes were softly covered with aqua colored eyeshadow, and her lips were painted in nude. She always looked so put together—ready to tackle anything thrown in her way. It was sexy.

I said, "it's the least I could do," after fussing over it, I finally messaged her, and that resulted in a call, where we planned to get dinner the following day.

"I thought I'd let you decide if you wanted to or not," the waiter brought us a bottle of wine that Delia ordered, and poured us each a glass. Did she really think that I'd ghost her? I'd believe that she had enough confidence to know that I would definitely contact her.

"I'm not gay, if you were wondering," I blurted, as the waiter walked away. She narrowed her eyes, as she wrapped her finger around the stem of her glass.

"If you say so," she raised her glass, and leaned it to her lips.

"No, really. I just wanted to make that clear."

"Okay," my chest tensed, "we're just having a friendly dinner. I'm not expecting you to kiss me at the end of the night."

I swallowed. Somehow, I felt both comfortable, and awkward around her. She had a way of making me feel intimidated. But, at the same time, I felt relaxed, and able to be myself.

"Good, because I won't," she looked down at the table for a few seconds, before looking back at me.

"Tell me about yourself. You seem to have an interesting life, being apart of a date auction and all."

"That's actually the most exciting thing I've done in a while, except for rocking meditations for my clients. Now, that's fulfilling."

"You like to win. I'm curious to know what these mediations are about."

"Just divorce stuff," I said. She brushed a strand of her red hair away from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. Her hair was long, and flowing over her shoulders, unlike the night that we met, when it was in a ponytail.

"Lawyer?" I nodded and she smiled, "that's sexy," she grinned, "so the best thing about it is mediations? I thought the job was more intense than that. What about court?"

"I handle myself pretty well. Ninety-five percent success rate, but who's counting," I took pride in my career. It was the only thing worth talking about in my life.

"You're persuasive, I see. Tell me, why do you like mediations so much?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I don't like being watched over by a room full of people," I hadn't been in court for a while. For the most part, I argued for my clients anywhere but there. It was simpler to resolve things without getting a judge involved, "I'm a divorce lawyer. And a good one. So most of my cases don't need to be taken to court."

"You seem to get the easy cases then," she said.

"Nothing's easy about two people who despise each other. Everyone knows that court drags out situations far longer than they need to be. And it gets nasty, and too much at a certain point. Though, some are reluctant to agree with anything, so court does come in handy on those occasions, and let me tell you, it's dreadful. You can see the bitterest side of someone when that happens."

"I know something or the other about that," she said.

"Really? So you've been married?" Not that it was any of my business. From the look on her face, I sensed that it was a sensitive topic.

"A while ago. Let's get back to that interesting career of yours. What firm do you work for?" I knew how to take a hint. She didn't want to talk about it, and I honestly didn't care about that.

"McConnon and Associates."

"I've heard of them. Do you like it there?"

"Some days," the waiter brought over our orders. I smiled at her, finding myself becoming lost in our conversation. I actually laughed more than I'd expected, and I even fought her to pay for dinner. But she badgered that it was her treat.

Our night was coming to an end, and all I could think about was if she was going to try to kiss me again. Would I say no? I wasn't sure. I tried to imagine pushing her away if she leaned in, and I couldn't do it. But as her lips would meet mine, I'd snap out of my thoughts, and focus on what she was saying.

"I had a wonderful night, Alyssa," she walked me to my car, and I reached for my keys in my purse. I hadn't had an enjoyable dinner in a while. And I was tempted to extend our date with a longer walk.

"Me too, you're not as boring as I'd imagined," I teased.

She smiled, "I have my fun side," I realized that we mostly talked about me, and I didn't even know what she did for a living.

That's unusual. Usually, I'd be the one to barely get a word in. But I guess I only attracted self-centered men—or are they all that way?

"How did you afford to splurge like that on me anyway? I mean, what do you do for a living?" I asked.

"I wouldn't call that splurging. You're worth every penny," she grinned at me, causing my cheeks to flush.

"You didn't answer my question correctly," I turned away, attempting to hide my reaction.

"I think I answered it very smoothly. You think I can't see that tint to your cheeks?" She stretched her hand towards me, and placed her index finger below my chin, making me face her, "you're beautiful."

Her soft voice caused a sensation to flutter around my chest, and electrify in between my thighs. That's new.

"Thank you," I'd let her kiss me right there and then. But she just looked at me, her eyes looking into mine as though I was the only thing in the world—that's what it felt like. I'd experienced something quite similar a few times before, but never that intense. Maybe it was because she was a woman, and women can increase sensations.

"I want to take you somewhere this weekend. Will you have the time?" I swallowed, her soft lips too close for me to focus on how to respond.

"I'm—I'm not sure," I leaned my head back a bit, giving myself some room to breathe, and not make a fool of myself. She obviously noticed how her actions were affecting me, else she wouldn't continue to tease my senses all night, "I'll check my schedule, and let you know."

"Good. I'm glad that you want to see me again," I believed that it was obvious that I enjoyed her company.

"Me too," I said. She cupped my cheek with the softness of her palm, and caressed my cheekbone with the pad of her thumb.

"Get home safely," I closed my eyes, waiting for her to lean in, but after a few, long moments, she removed her hand, causing me to reopen my eyes.

The smirk on her face caused my stomach to tighten, "I'll send you a text when I do," I told her.

"I'd appreciate that."

I opened my car door, and slid in, my cheeks feeling as red as they used to be when I overused blush in highschool. Did I really want her to kiss me?

She waved at me, as I buckled my seatbelt, before heading to find her own car. I tilted my head, as I watched her butt bounce in those tight jeans, as she walked away. God, what's wrong with me?