Tomorrow I'll Thin About Tomorrow

You see that woman over there, across the bar? No, don't stare. Just corner of your eye glimpse. You see her? She's... Wow. She's just about perfect. That curly brown hair, the green eyes. I almost can't turn away from those eyes. I mean, her body's incredible. You can't really tell when she's sitting down like she is now. But... Amazing. All soft curves, just like her hair. And that dress? Whew! Not every woman can pull electric blue off, but it works on her.

Like I said: perfect. Almost like you'd order out of a catalog, isn't she? Yeah, she's here to find somebody, that's for sure. Gonna go try your luck? Eh, take a shot if you want, but I know two things about her. One - I've seen her shoot down seven guys so far, and that's just since I got here ten minutes ago. And two - all that time, she has looked at exactly one guy... me.

+++++++++

Three nights ago

"Hello?"

"Hi... Uh... Could I speak with Madeline, p-please?"

"This is she." She almost purred into the phone as I held it to my ear.

"Hi, um... I'm Andrew, and my friend Bill Hogarth said you were the person I needed to talk to."

"Certainly, Andrew. How can I satisfy you?"

Here we go. [gulp] "I was hoping you could find me a... um..."

"Companion?", she finished for me.

"Yes, um, a companion for this coming Friday night."

"I have some friends who are free on Friday. What kind of companionship were you looking for? Oh, and... First time, Andrew?"

[gulp again] Was it that obvious? Smooth, dumbass. Real smooth. "Yes, ma'am."

"Well, our goal is your complete satisfaction. I hope you'll be a regular customer. So, be honest; you can tell me anything. What do you fantasize about?"

I don't know if she was setting my mind at ease, or if it was the whiskey. Either way, it was working. "I want to be seduced. I want a stunning woman to look at me across a restaurant and become so enamored of me that she dumps her date on the spot. I want... to be wanted."

"Mmmmmmm... I know just how you feel, Andrew. That thrill of power that shoots through you when you're the center of someone's world. And I'm certain we can give you that kind of evening. Might I suggest booking a hotel room for the night? I'm thinking of having you meet her at Armand's. Wonderful restaurant, the salmon almondine is divine. Next to it is a lovely boutique hotel with great rooms for... whatever happens next."

"That won't be a problem."

"If you had your preference, should the night lead you both back to your room, would you want her to be, shall we say, compliant?"

"'Compliant'? Oh no. No, not at all. I don't want her kneeling and begging like in some bad porno. No, I want her to be a bit forward, aggressive at times, and a little yielding at others. Just... normal, I guess. But pretty. And elegant."

"By 'elegant', I'm guessing you envision silk and lace, hair in an updo and tastefully enticing lipstick?"

Could she hear me swoon over the phone? "Wow. Um, yes. That. Oh, and uh... I like a woman to have larger than average..."

She gave a quiet chuckle, one I didn't quite know how to read. "Hmmmm... I have just the young lady for you. Well, assuming I don't decide to take this one myself." She gave a small laugh, so she was teasing. I thought. "Truly, she is lovely in everyday clothes. But put her in a cocktail dress and heels, and she turns heads wherever she goes. And yes, she fills out a dress' bustline spectacularly. I'm certain you'll be pleased. I imagine this rendezvous being... say, three hours? An hour at the restaurant for her to make you feel desirable, and two more for her to act on the fires of desire that you will have stoked in her."

"That will be... perfect."

"Excellent. Text me your picture and credit card information. The bill will appear on your card as 'Hogarth's Event Planning'. You should know that the general practice is for a twenty percent gratuity for your companion. Will that be acceptable for you?"

"Go ahead and make it thirty percent. I imagine this will be a lot more effort than she would ordinarily put into a... rendezvous, and that deserves gratitude as well as gratuity."

"Now I'm really looking forward to making you one of our regulars! I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, and I'll be sure to tell her as well."

I wasn't doing this a second time, though I had absolutely no intention of telling that to Madeline... Just this once. My ego could definitely use the stroking.

"Will you send me a picture of her?"

"I can't, Andrew. But even if I could, I wouldn't. Seduction, as much as anything, is the gentle art of shifting your expectations. It's like a surprise. If you give a woman roses on Valentine's Day, it's sweet, but almost obligatory. She expects it, so there's no surprise, no romance. But give her roses on a random Thursday, just because you were thinking about her? That's surprise, and that's seductive. If you knew who you were looking for, it would ruin the surprise for you. No, you just go to Armand's Friday at eight-thirty, wait at the bar, and let the best night of your life unveil itself to you."

++++++++++

Nice place. I like the decor: dark enough for an intimate conversation, not dark enough for any other expressions of intimacy. The sign says there's a jazz trio coming in later, but I'm kinda digging the background music they're playing now. Miles Davis' "Amandla", unless I miss my guess.

So yeah, if you want a bruised ego, be my guest. But that look she just sent this way? The smolder, the intensity? You're a fool if you think it was meant for anyone other than me. And if you want to prove you're a fool, go right ahead. Me? If I'm so sure she's working on me, why am I here and not with her? It's the 21st century - let her make the first move. Arrogance? No, confidence. And maybe I have an ace in the hole.

I figure I'm going to let her sit there and wonder for another... ten minutes or so. Am I going to come over there? Or is she going to have to make every move, every advance? And what move would that be? What will she say, do if she has to approach me? A woman like that, she has always been able to be reactive. Men have thrown themselves at her feet; she's lost all respect for that type of guy. Now, she's on the active side, using every trick to get me to come to her. Watch how she plays with her hair, looks at me then quickly blushes and looks away.

You've been in bars before, and you and your buddies would talk about how this woman or that one wants you. This isn't like that false bravado. She does want me, and she will have me. But she has to come to me.

++++++++++

Six weeks ago

"I swear, Drew. You're never going to grow up."

"What does that even mean? Seriously, what does that mean?"

"God, you don't know, and you're in your 30s. Says everything right there."

"Just... Just stop it. Does 'grown up' mean that I'm not supposed to like comic book movies? Then no, I'm not going to grow up. Does it mean that I'm not allowed to play fantasy football? Then yeah, I guess I won't! But that's not the real question, is it? The real question is why would you want me to grow up? I'm not good enough for you and your friends the way I am?"

"I'm just tired of putting up with a goddamn child!"

"So, I watch every show with Nathan Fillion, and I'm a child. You watch every show with David Tutera, and you're a grownup?"

"Instead of the shit you watch? Yeah, it does make me a grownup!"

"Fine! Then you go be all grown up, and I'll leave you and your grown up friends alone!"

"Good, Drew. I already don't miss you. And you'll never find anyone like me again!"

"Your mouth to God's ears, Tanya. Your mouth to God's ears."

++++++++++

Yeah, I know she's getting up. Just like I told you she would five minutes ago. No, she's not going to the ladies' room. She's circling the room until you leave. So go over there by the bandstand, and watch what happens. Just go, all right? Let me give her a night to tell her granddaughters about someday.

As soon as my new bestie moves away, I see her eyes flick over. Seeing me finally alone, her smile is almost predatory. There's a hunger in her eyes. Her movements sinuous, her hips swaying to music that isn't coming from any jukebox or jazz ensemble. Her breasts bounce invitingly with every step. She walks for effect, to create a spectacle. And the eyes of every man there are drawn to that spectacle. If her look is predatory, then the looks she gets are positively leonine. The alpha female, Lola. Whatever, whoever she wants, she gets.

Our eyes meet. And the air between us crackles with electricity, anticipation. The thought of what this night, my night holds consumes me. I want her, now, here. The alpha female is mine, and I don't care who watches us.

And then she brushes past me.

What? Did I misread her all this time? Was everything that happened between us nothing but a mirage? She'd teased me with looks, shifting in her seat to give me glimpses of her legs or the scenic vista down her cleavage. She knew what she was doing, and who she was doing it for. Or so I'd thought. What the hell just happened?

I cannot help myself, so I turn my head to find her. She stands less than ten feet away, facing me, with an impish smile and sparkling eyes. And suddenly I feel sorry for anyone who isn't me tonight.

"That was mean, young lady." I hope my tone matches her look, equal parts mock indignation and playful enjoyment.

"You deserved it. Making me wait all this time..."

"Making you wait... Is that what I was doing?"

"Of course it was, you cad. How many downblouse moments does a girl have to give you before you come over and talk to her?" I don't want to laugh, but this playfulness is almost as much fun as the overtly sexual version was.

"All those loser guys hitting on me... The one man I want to come over is sitting there, watching all this, and laughing at me."

"I couldn't help it. The looks they gave you before and after were priceless." I can't hold the laugh in any longer. Soon, she joins in, and all is well. "While we're here... Hi. I'm Andrew, Drew."

'Hi Drew, it's a pleasure. Cecilia, but my friends usually call me CC or Double C."

My eyes twinkle as I flick them back down to her chest. "Double C with the double..."

She scrunches up her face, but her eyes keep smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Like I haven't heard that once a week since I was fifteen. But still, I like the girls." She pulls her shoulders back, making her chest even more prominent.

I gulp for air. "Me too."

"Oh stop undressing me with your eyes. You can use your hands later... For now, come dance with me."

Our bodies fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces. Her arms clutch me close, her head on my chest. It feels so good, so right. I don't know when the song ended and when the next one began. And I don't care.

She writhes in my arms, stroking my body with hers. The sensations go from tender to intense, from a magical moment to a different kind of magic. Given why we're here, it's the wrong way to describe it, but it's almost like going from love to lust. I'd had lap dances that weren't this sexually charged, sex that wasn't this intense. No fresh-faced coed knew how to move like this, but the college girls there that night should have been taking notes. Would have been a gift to all the boys in town.

And yet anyone watching us would see nothing but two people dancing. Slow dancing, sure, but "just" dancing. Like Henry V is "just" writing.

I whisper into her ear, "Tell me you can feel this." She twirls her back to me, keeping my hands in hers. Leaning back into my chest, her derriere presses into me, eliminating all doubt. "Oh, I most certainly feel that."

I spin her back around to face me, a smirk playing across both our faces. "Well yes, but... Tell me you feel this connection. This instantaneous electricity between us. Name your price, Aphrodite. I have rubies and sapphires that outshine all else but you. "

She leans in, delicately kissing just below my ear. "Just keep talking to me like that, Leander. Be thou my hero, and evermore thy Hero shalt..." She kisses my left cheek. "I..." Kiss on the right cheek. "be. " Our lips meet, and I can barely describe the sensation. It's an immediate need. I've heard somewhere that it takes three uses of heroin to become addicted. It only takes one of Cecilia's kisses.

A heart-stoppingly beautiful woman, with cock-stiffening dance moves and mind-blowing Shakespearean lines available on command. Her existence isn't fair to men everywhere. She is entirely too much for any one man. Except that for tonight, at least tonight, that one man is me.

She pulls away from our first kiss, looking as breathless as I feel. Her skin is flushed, particularly the skin of her exposed chest. This woman was doing a hell of a job acting this out for me. I'm glad my father taught me to be a good tipper; she's going all out.

"Drew, where's home for you?"

"Well, normally it's across town. But I took a friend's advice and booked a room at the hotel next door."

"Oh thank God. I wasn't sure I could wait long enough to get you back to my place."

"You don't want to stay here and dance?"

"You're so adorable when you're teasing me. No, I have a different kind of dance in mind. It requires a more intimate setting, softer music, a lot fewer people, and way less fabric. Come on, let's get out of here."

I take her hand, and we leave Armand's. The hotel is nice, but I don't think we'll be visiting the pool or scheduling a couple's massage. I don't even imagine we'll see the outside of the room again until breakfast.

++++++++++

When I'd checked in earlier today, the clerk asked whether I wanted the "basic" room or the "getaway" suite. At the time, I figured that nothing I'd ever done was getting farther away from my life, so I chose that. Score one for Drew.

The getaway suite is designed for vacationers to, metaphorically, get away from it all. So the room looked like something out of a New England bed and breakfast. There was a fireplace and small stack of kindling, just enough to light a romantic fire. Big canopy bed with a quilted duvet. Even the modern conveniences were made to look like they belonged then and there; the nightstand doors opened into a mini-fridge. I remember thinking at the time that this would do nicely. Score two for Drew.

Part of me wants to throw her over my shoulder and run to the room. But Cecilia has other ideas. Her hand in mine, she is strolling, looking at me more than the sidewalk. And I realize that she's right. The night ahead has plenty of time for passion's immediacy. Now is the time to foster that urgency, to let the need grow. Besides, I'm not 19 anymore; perhaps allowing the evening to proceed at its own pace will keep it from ending... ahem... prematurely.

I drape my arm across her shoulders, and she snuggles next to me. People walking the other way on the sidewalk smile at us like we're young and in love. Sure, why not? For one night, I can let myself get lost in the fantasy. Tomorrow, I'll think about tomorrow. Cecilia smiles dreamily up at me. She's really good at this.

At the front desk, the clerk greets me by name. Nice touch. Must make guests feel like big shots, and that's sneaky nice for me. Cecilia gets that teasing look in her eyes again. "Is this where you bring all your girls, Mr. Drew?" I can't help but laugh again. In my best Sean Connery, "No, of course not. This is just the first night hotel. After that... Well, we'll just have to see if you earn a second night." The desk clerk laughs along with us. Yeah, next time I have out of town guests, I'm recommending this hotel to them.

My room is on the top floor, so we have a few minutes in the elevator. "I want you to know something, Drew," she says in a suddenly serious tone. "I... I'm not usually this... This is the first time I've gone back to a man's hotel room in a very long time." Uh huh. Okay, if she's going to continue the charade, I will too. Then her eyes get that twinkle back. "I'm not a one night stand kind of chick. So I will earn that second night." Her eyes ablaze, "Count on it."

"Cecilia, I like your chances." I smile back at her just as the elevator bell dings to tell us we're on my floor.

"Shoot. So much for that elevator head I was planning on giving you. You wouldn't mind going on another ride later on, would you?" She bats her eyelashes mischievously.

I look at her just as intently. "Oh, Mr. Tyler." In unison, we say, "Going... down?" Madeline did right by me.

+++++++++

As the keycard slides in, Cecilia excuses herself to the bathroom. Sure. I have no earthly idea what women do in the bathroom right before sex, but if anybody needs to do it, it's someone in her line of work. I throw the lock, slide my shoes off, and ease back onto the suite's comfortable sofa. I barely have time to register that the "basic" room probably has some not-particularly-ergonomic office chair instead of this luxury before I hear my name whispered from across the room, before all conscious thought flies out of my mind.

She is a vision.

She leans against the door frame of the bathroom, one arm extended over her head. Canary yellow lace, more an idea than a garment, cradles her breasts, bringing them up and together, creating the cleavage I'd been gazing at all night. Matching boy shorts draw my attention downward, across the softness of her tummy, hinting at the treasures beneath. The look is enough to make a Victoria's Secret designer smile with pride; the woman wearing it is enough to make a Victoria's Secret model retire in disgust. One thought resonates in my mind, an echo in the cavern of quiet: mine.

"You like?" As if the look of awe on my face wasn't answer enough. I rise to move towards her, but she stills me with a hand and walks toward me. The same spectacle-creating walk she gave in the restaurant, but now her lingerie makes the spectacle... spectacular, for an audience of one.

And it is my turn to raise a hand. "Wait. Just for a moment. I want to memorize this moment, this beauty. It will keep me warm on cold, lonely nights for decades to come." She smiles winningly, then shifts her weight to her left foot. The effect, her body moving in perfection, is enough to make me swoon. Then with a wink, she pirouettes, allowing me to memorize her from a new angle. With her back to me, she tosses her hair over one shoulder and looks back at me.

My eyes can't decide where to focus. Beautiful face, hair curling down her back, pointing towards an ass that was as sculpted as a Michelangelo statue. "Mademoiselle, you steal the words from my throat."

Slowly turning back to me, her lips part slowly. "Seems fair. You've been taking my breath away for the last hour and a half." She approaches, then perches on the sofa arm. "I take it you approve, good Leander." Looking through eyes heavy-lidded with lust, I beckon her to approach me. "Allow me to demonstrate that approval."

Leaning forward onto the sofa, she slowly crawls up my reclining body. The visual effect of that amazing cleavage is more than matched by the visceral pleasure her body creates in mine. I feel shivers up and down my neck; goosebumps spread across her chest. Her lips, now millimeters from mine, fill my field of vision. For us both, there is only the other, only the now. Our universe has contracted to this suite, this sofa, this moment.

I look up from those lips, lips that I long to claim as mine, and I see her eyes. They're cast down at my mouth, but she senses my gaze and locks her eyes onto mine. Calling them green is unfair to every other green-eyed woman; those pale next to Cecilia's. There's a depth there, a promise unspoken but every bit as binding. They beg me not to hurt this woman (as if I could). And if I don't, if I cherish her, then...