It's a Saturday night and I am waiting nervously for the doorbell to ring. I fidget and straighten my skirt, fiddle with my makeup, tap my fingers...I'm waiting for a blind date.
A friend had called and told me about this great guy she had met earlier in the week. We spoke on the phone and chatted a lot on the Internet, doing some heavy flirting through it all. We had basic descriptions and that was about it. I had never been set up before, thus the nervousness.
Looking at my watch, I see that he should soon be here. Then the doorbell: I start to get up, smoothing my clothes, and hoping that I don't look sleazy. I am wearing a short, blue skirt and an ivory silk top that shows my cleavage. A tingle is tracing its way up and down my back and I have a feeling that tonight will be very interesting.
I get to the door and open it hesitantly. What if he looks differently than he described himself? What if he doesn't like the way I look? Maybe looks shouldn't matter; we seemed to hit it off personality-wise in our conversations. I open the door and let out a sigh of relief through a smile: he is gorgeous!
I let him in and take his coat, "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find the building," I said. He smiled and replied, "No problem there. I'm Mark."
I led him to the living room and asked him if he wanted some wine or beer. He said that a beer would be great and smiled again. My heart leapt into my throat. He was so sexy. I would definitely have to thank out mutual friend.
I went to the kitchen and got a Corona out of the fridge and a glass of red wine for myself. I needed something to calm my nerves...and my raging hormones. Upon my return to the living room, I found he had made himself a little more comfortable. Relaxing in the overstuffed arm chair. I passed him the beer and sat down on the couch.