I couldn't seem to stop staring at Beatrice. She was gorgeous, one of the most beautiful women I had seen, and I had seen a lot of them. The dress she wore hugged her body in all the right places, a glittering silver sheath that rippled as she shifted in her seat. There was a choker around her neck, a pale silver band standing out against her creamy skin which begged to be kissed. A half cape was attached to the choker and delicately draped over her shoulder, folds of the fabric hiding one of her arms, and to my dismay partially covering one of her perfectly rounded breasts.
She lifted her soft brown eyes from the menu, catching my glance, and I smirked, not caring at all if she knew I was staring. In fact, I wanted her to know.
A soft smile curved her plump lips, pushing up the corners and for a moment adding two small lines to her otherwise flawless skin. A faint blush reddened her cheeks, serving to highlight her sculpted cheekbones even more.
"Found anything you want to eat?" I asked, glancing at the menu in front of me, and her lips pursed into a frown in a way that showed where the red lipstick she was wearing ended, fading to her natural pink color. It was a softer red than the bright cherry shade that Paul wore onstage. It was dignified, refined, perfect for her outfit and the environment.
"Oh, I think we could start with some hors d'oeuvre. The prosciutto and melon seems delicious," she said, resting her chin on a delicate hand, long fingers gracefully cupping her cheek, pushing her hair back, her crystal earring twinkling in the candlelight. "And maybe a bottle of champagne. I'd like to get the lobster Thermador, and that would pair nicely. What did you have in mind?"
"The roast Long Island duckling sounds nice," I said, and she let out an absentminded hum, picking up the wine list before looking up at me again.
"Oh, I suppose we don't have to get champagne then, although the duck has an orange cassis sauce so it might go well with it. It's your choice!" she said, fluttering her long, dark eyelashes.
"The meal is my treat for your pleasure. Get whatever you want and don't worry about the check," I said, and she smiled, eyes as warm as a cup of rich coffee on a winter morning.
"You know, I was a little disappointed when I realized Paul wasn't here, but I'm starting to think maybe that's been for the better," she said, and I returned her smile.
"I'm more than happy to help you ah...enjoy your evening," I said, putting casual emphasis on the words and hoping she knew what I was implying.
The waiter walked over, taking our order and refilling the glasses of water on the table. I took a sip of water, clearing my throat.
"So Beatrice, how did you meet Paul?" I asked, and she sat up a little straighter, smoothing down her dress, making the silver fabric ripple.
"Oh, we actually met at an art store! He was looking for a new set of paints and I was looking for a new set of brushes so we were in the same aisle of the shop and just ended up talking," she said.
"You're an artist then?" I asked, and she laughed.
"I like to call myself one, but it's really only a hobby of mine. My main career is as a secretary."
"Where do you work?" I asked, and she gave me a teasing smile, fidgeting with the bracelets on her wrist.
"This is only our first time meeting, I'm not about to give you my job location so you can come waltzing in and try and distract me while I'm at work," she said, and the corners of my mouth twitched up into a smirk.
"So you find me distracting?" I asked.
Her eyes widened, perfectly plucked eyebrows raising almost subconsciously, showing off the subtle silver eyeshadow that I hadn't noticed she was wearing before. It matched her dress perfectly. The delicate blush on her cheeks got a lot redder, and I smiled, giving her a wink.
"Can't say I blame you," I teased. "I tend to have that effect on people."
She laughed, a perfect sound as crystal as the glasses on the table between us, breaking the spell of the moment.
"You know, I think you might be more full of yourself than Paul is. I wasn't even aware that was possible," she said.
The appetizers arrived before I could say anything, and I watched as she cut herself a bite of prosciutto-wrapped melon, popping it into her mouth.
"Damn that's good," she said, before dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "Sorry, pardon my language."
I only shrugged, adjusting my tie, hoping I looked as put together as she did. "It's a nice restaurant, I'd hope the food would elicit that reaction. Speaking of language, Beatrice is a lovely name."
She let out a sigh that made the few stray curls of her glossy brown hair falling over her face flutter up for a moment before drifting back down.
"Unfortunately Beatrice is my middle name. My parents hated me enough before I was even born to name me Selma," she said, but I shrugged.
"I think Selma is also a lovely name," I said, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.
"Sure, until you've got half your class in elementary school saying your name was Salem and tying you to a tree with a skip rope while crying they're going to burn the witch," she said, and I chuckled before hastily clearing my throat.
"That does...put a damper on the name, yes. I can see why you go by Beatrice," I said.
There was a brief pause before she gave me a gentle smile that made the candlelight flicker in her eyes the way the stars flickered in the sky, a warm glow in the rich chocolate color.
"I don't, actually. My friends call me Bea."
I smiled, reaching over and resting my hand on top of hers, not quite holding it but unable to fight back the longing to touch her any longer.
"Bea? It suits you," I said, and she grinned, revealing a set of practically perfect pearly white teeth.
"I'd hope so, since I picked the nickname myself."
I shook my head with a laugh, grateful for once that there was no sign of the food being brought to the table.
