I spotted him from far away. Tall and Italian. The room seemed to throb with his presence. I could feel it in my being. We were at a local disco in my small mid-western town. The pounding of the music heightened my senses making me feel unusually sexy. I wore a tight leather skirt with a low cut blouse that sensually showed off my breasts. My friend said something which made me laugh. Then I turned and caught his eye. Somehow everyone else in the room seemed to fade. He smiled, his smile extending to his dark eyes. And then he was gone.
My friends and I stayed until they kicked us out. But as we made our way to the car, I realized that I had left my purse. Sending my friends home, I went back inside. The place was deserted except for the staff that was wearily cleaning up. I quickly retrieved my bag and returned to my car. Only one other car remained in the lot. For a moment, I hesitated. Unsure. Finding my keys, I walked swiftly to my Toyota and punched the button to unlock the door.
"Can I follow you home?" a voice asked in my ear.
I gasped, suddenly afraid. The man must've sensed my unease.
"I mean, it's late and I wouldn't want you to get lost."
I swung around to find the tall Italian from the bar standing beside me. My pulse began to race. Sexuality seemed to exude from his pores. I wanted to say 'no' but ... "I would appreciate that. I just live across town." Why did I say that? Fear and anticipation made me nervous as I turned my back on him.
He held the door for me and waited until my engine roared to life. 'Was I CRAZY?' A sudden sense of excitement pulsed through my body. Unaccustomed to picking up men, I had a feeling that this was going to be a night to remember. The trip across town was short to my little bungalow where I lived alone. He pulled in behind me then quickly came to my door and opened it as I stepped onto the driveway.
I noticed that his eyes seemed riveted to my breasts. I could feel my nipples harden under the thin material of my blouse. "I'm Peter, by the way. Do you go to the Silver Lounge often?" His eyes rose to meet mine with a smile that took my breath away.
"Not always. My girlfriends and I make the rounds. We follow the bands." My words seemed to stumble over each other as he took my hand and walked me to the door.
All the bells seemed to go off in my head. What if this man was a serial killer? I didn't want him to go - but I didn't want him to stay. I began to fan myself. It was a warm summer night. "Would you like to sit outside?" I asked despite myself.