I got a little carried away with my make-up. Your make-up fits on a continuum beginning with 'nun' and extending through various professions and life stages. I've never had tolerance for 'desperate housewife' and have rather preferred to advance to 'high class escort' or sometimes even 'porn star'. My husband, so very visually stimulated, always prefers porn star (bless his heart). This time, however, I took it further than I had ever - I almost, but not quite, reached the level of Fox News Anchorwoman. I thought that I might look too much like a whore to leave the room. My husband disagreed, and led me to the hotel bar.
"Are you sure, hun? This isn't really like you." And it wasn't. In all our years together he had never expressed the desire to see me flirt with strangers.
"Yep, I'm sure. Just be ready to leave if I need you to!"
The bar was unremarkable. Just your standard, run of the mill hotel bar. The room was dark enough to provide cover for those who did not belong, but light enough to find someone who might. The difference between this bar and the hundreds that I had previously visited was the visitors - virtually every one but my husband a stranger - and the country music playing softly in the background.
My husband had entered the bar a few minutes before I did, and then sat waiting to watch me enter. I hope he enjoyed the view. My behavior entering the bar was subtle - I simply walked confidently to the bar and took a seat. My attire, however, was anything but subtle. A red mini dress will always draw attention, but one with a drape neckline and made of polyester and spandex can get you in trouble. And I was looking for trouble.
The bartender, ignoring some who had arrived before me, came to me immediately. "What can I do for you, pretty lady?"
"I'd like something to match my dress."
"How about a bartender?"
"I was thinking about a pinot, but I appreciate the options!" We both laughed as his polite flirtation.
It has been amazing to experience the behavioral transformation that has followed my physical transformation. The flirting with the bartender felt relaxed, expected. The eyes watching me enter the bar were comforting, not terrifying. The gentlemen that approach are welcome, even if our meeting ends up being just short and friendly.
I have grown very comfortable in heels, and the 4" pair I had on matched my dress perfectly. I have similarly grown comfortable with my body, which has transitioned from 'tomboy' athletic to Hollywood sexy. My husband has paid well for this transformation, and the transformation has paid off for me.
"Goddam, you are one sexy lady!"
"And you are one bold *young* man!"
"Ain't that young. I'm Billy, what's your name."
"Married woman. Very nice to meet you!" We both laughed at my response.
"Married? Really? Are you trying to break my heart?"
"I don't plan on breaking anyone's heart."
Even with my slight rebuff, Billy pressed on. "Alright, alright. You can at least let me buy you a drink until your husband gets here."
"I'd like that, but my husband is out of town." This, of course, was absolutely true, as we were very far from home. My husband would laugh about this later tonight, I thought, once the game was over.
"Well then you're going to need some protection. I'll just stay here with you and make sure that nothing goes wrong. How about that?"β¨β¨He was cute, although a bit too young for me. Size is always attractive, and he was a big man, maybe 6'4" or more. At 5'2" I was at a perfect size disadvantage.
"Are you a cowboy?"
"Why, because this is Texas? Naw, but I'll try it if it keeps you with me longer tonight."β¨β¨And this is how the conversation went. Gentle flirting infused between actual communication. Billy was a collegiate athlete, was studying for a career in business, and was just out having fun.
"Look, my friends are over there. Do you think your husband would mind it if we danced? It'll drive my buddies crazy."
"I'm not sure how my husband would respond, but I'd like to dance."
Billy was a good dancer, and he taught me the 'two step'. I felt very small in his arms, and his arms felt very strong around me. He kept me pulled tight to his body, and my body was responding to his heat.
Perhaps sensing this, my husband caught my eye. He sent the signal - time to go.
"Billy, I'm sorry, hun, I have to run for a second. I'll be back soon." I was pretty sure I just lied to him.