It was a Saturday afternoon and I had just finished meeting with a client at the St. Anthony Hotel in downtown San Antonio, Texas. It was a casual chat, so I was dressed in grey slacks and a grey tweed sports coat over a red polo shirt.
We had met in the lounge of this Grande dame hotel which was built in 1923, and I was feeling very satisfied with the outcome of our discussion. The client, also satisfied, had just made apologies and had excused himself to attend a family gathering. I was finishing the last of my Marguerita, and thinking about how I should spend the rest of the beautiful autumn afternoon as I glanced around the room. I love these rich wood paneled bars that remind me of gentlemen's clubs of bygone years, and though I'm a non-smoker, I can picture myself relaxing in the overstuffed chair with a cold drink and a fine cigar.
It had been about thirty minutes, and one more Marguerita, since my client's departure when I caught sight of an attractive, dark-haired beauty walk in wearing a classic royal blue dress and matching stiletto heels. The cut of the dress was very conservative and I noted the absence of accessories which at first seemed odd, but on reflection I concluded was perfect for the look. She was also wearing sunglasses which she immediately removed as she entered the dimmer lighting of the lounge. Her dark eyes took in the room. In addition to myself there were perhaps another ten patrons either sitting at the L-shaped bar, or sitting, as I was, in one of the several conversation nooks that encircled it. From that moment on, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.
She walked sensuously in my direction, making brief eye contact, before turning and taking a seat at the bar. From my vantage point I had a clear view of her, but she would have to turn her head slightly to the left to see me. While this would have required little effort, she instead removed a small compact from her purse, and opened it to glance into the mirror. Seemingly unsatisfied with the image that greeted her, she then applied some lipstick to her full lips with a small brush. After another glance into the mirror, and a little smile, she put the compact and the lipstick away just as a well dressed gentleman approached and sat next to her.
I could see immediately they were strangers, since the conversation (which I could not hear), appeared to be a greeting of sort. I could see the man gesture toward the bartender, and then look back at the woman in a questioning way. I could see her shake her head and disappointment appeared on the man's face. He said something else and returned to a chair on the other end of the bar. The bartender appeared and obviously took a drink order which turned out to be a glass of white wine, which she sipped. Nodding that the wine was acceptable, she took another sip as the bartender moved to serve another customer.
She looked around the room and again glanced in my direction, but other than a small hesitation when our eyes met, she showed no sign that she was looking for anyone in particular. Her dress had bunched up slightly when she had sat down, so that I could see not only her smooth well toned calves, but just a hint of the side of her soft thigh as well. I also noticed that she had crossed her legs and had allowed one of her stiletto heels to dangle deliciously. I watched her check her phone, and drink a little more wine.
She seemed unhurried and appeared to just be enjoying the taste of the wine and the soft music that was playing in the background. Then, glancing around the room again, she slid off the bar stool and started walking in the general direction of the rest rooms. I too, arose and headed in that direction as well. We intercepted each other as we reached the short hallway leading to the doors marked Ladies and Gentlemen (No signs saying Women and Men here).
As I came along side of her, she leaned slightly toward me and whispered.
"You're staring at me." Her voice, what I could hear of it, was low and very soft. A very feminine voice.
"I am," I admitted. "I can't take my eyes off you. You've enchanted me since you walked through that door."
"It makes me a little uncomfortable," she confided.
"Please," I begged her, "don't be. I'm not a stalker."
She smiled. "Stop staring."
"It's something I can't help. I appreciate a woman the way others appreciate art," I told her. "You are a masterpiece. If I'm staring, it's because I want to take in every element, every feature, each light, shadow and brush-stroke."
"Most masterpieces I've seen are old and somewhat wrinkled," she said her voice just above a whisper, but still soft and low, with a humorous tinge.
"That's why you're marvelous," I said, smiling. "You're obviously vibrant and very alive."
"You are a flatterer," she said, her dark eyes looking straight into mine.
"Not so," I defended myself. "I speak only the truth."
"Then, please," she demanded with quiet urgency, "tell me the truth."
"Your eyes are dark and warm, yet sparkle with all the stars of a country night. Your hair forms the frame for your face, a face for the ages, the definition of classical beauty. Your voice is warm and low, like soft, sweet chocolate."
"You're very good at this," she said, her eyes dropping to my lips.
"Do you expect to find the indicator of truth where you're looking?" I asked. "The eyes, remember, tell much more of truth or lies than the lips can ever speak."
Her eyes flickered over my face, then back to make contact with my own.
"Your lips," I continued, "hold the promise of softness and passion. Each little crevice begs to be explored, tested, tasted."
"Oh, my!" she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "That sounds so very sensual."
I nodded. "It is taking every iota of my self-control not to touch you," I confided. "The contrast of skin to the dark of your dress screams to me for exploration. You've dressed very conservatively, but in a strange way you're naked there; not exposed but inviting."
"so what do you see?" she whispered.
"You are serious. Your passion is more eloquent. You are smoldering embers yearning to break into flame."
"Tell me more," she whispered.
"Not here. On the deck, through the patio. I'll wait for you there."
Her eyes shifted to mine, then quickly looked away. She smiled the Mona Lisa smile of a knowing woman.
With unhurried steps, I stopped at the bar and ordered two glasses of the wine she had been drinking and then wandered toward the French doors leading to the patio. Once outside, the air, which was warm, rested lightly on my skin. I could hear some music coming from the general direction of Riverwalk. Brass lanterns were carefully placed along the borders of the patio, then on either side of the three or four stairs leading to the patio, currently unoccupied. A large shrub, or small tree, was potted close to the French doors providing a small amount of cover for anyone wishing to lurk unobserved.
With no small effort I looked across the skyline of San Antonio, deliberately denying myself a healthy stare at those French doors. A tinge of doubt assailed me as I waited. Would she, the center of so much well-deserved attention, throw it over to join me in the shaded, partially private arena of this patio? My mind said she could not resist, but reason interjected excuse after excuse.
The slightest noise from the direction of the doors drew my attention. I watched transfixed as she emerged from the golden lights of the lounge into the sunlight of the patio. She looked neither left nor right, but strode purposefully toward the stairs. I watched appreciatively as her perfectly formed legs peeked through the small slit on her dress as she carefully negotiated the stairs.
She stopped momentarily at the top, her eyes searching. Once she'd spotted me, she came directly toward me, her heels beating a delicate but deliberate tap-tap-tap as she stepped carefully across the stone floor.
"This is very dangerous," she said, taking the glass from me, and sipping its contents,
"Then why are you here," I asked,
Her eyes flickered to the side, focusing out into the night. "Because," she said. "Because there's a ball of something throbbing away deep down in here." She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "And I like it."
