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“Everything, but I highly recommend the cappuccino. It’s not like you have in America, I promise. The roast isn’t nearly as bitter as American cafes are insistent on settling for,” I say, recognizing how pompous I sound at the moment but refusing to correct myself.
She raises her eyebrows at me questioningly. “I’ve had good cappuccinos in America, but I’ll take your word for it.”
I already like the way she banters with me. So many of the dates I’ve been on have been led solely by me. It’s easy to anticipate that June will meet me on a level of conversation that I haven’t yet experienced on other dates. She has a slight grin, implying a playfulness that I wouldn’t have expected for a first encounter. Even though I need to rein myself in, my inner self is on a warpath that’s laser-focused on getting this woman into bed with me.
I need to calm myself, but the hunger inside me is insurmountable.
When a familiar server approaches us, I order both of our drinks right away. June glances at me curiously as if she’s never experienced the luxury of a man who will take charge. The server nods, leaving us alone once again.
“You didn’t ask how I like my coffee before you ordered it for me,” she comments, hesitantly implying both a pleasant surprise and mild annoyance.
“I don’t have to when I know how these drinks are best served. Trust me. I’ve been coming here since I was thirteen,” I reply.
She pauses before responding, looking over the hill into the horizon. “I can’t imagine living somewhere like this all the time. Does it ever get boring? Like, does the ocean just become part of the scenery?”
I consider her question carefully. She must be asking from the position of someone who lives in a concrete jungle, constantly navigating construction, crowds, and police presence in her everyday atmosphere. I can’t imagine it without giving myself a headache.
“To be honest, I think it’s easier to let yourself feel like part of the scenery. Not to mention, the sunsets are always spectacular. From up here, there’s nothing blocking your view of it, and it feels like it could swallow you alive if it wanted to,” I say.
She’s intrigued by this response, leaning in closer and resting her head on her hand. “I’ve only been here for a few days, and I already feel... lighter? Is that the word?”
I laugh a little, glancing out over the villas below the hill where the café rests. “Not the first time I’ve heard that from an American. Your entire lifestyle in the United States is based on productivity and output. It’s exhausting just to watch you all. I see plenty of you visiting here for business, and even the way these people walk is too purposeful. They don’t even notice the beauty around them.”
She perks up, her eyes glittering in the morning sunlight. “I never really thought about it like that. To me, it’s just work. I hadn’t considered how it could be interpreted by someone from another country.”
“It’s far more noticeable than you might realize. Even now, I can see the tension that you carry in your shoulders. When was the last time you intentionally took a deep breath and allowed yourself to feel present in the moment?” I ask, leaning in just a bit to match her energy.
“Maybe that’s what I should be doing right now. For the next two hours, the future doesn’t exist, and I’m going to feel myself breathing on purpose, even if that feels weird to say,” she replies, half-joking.
I can’t resist smiling at her. She’s so vivacious while also being somewhat deadpan, which is a combination of traits that I’ve never identified in anyone else, man or woman. I need to know everything about her now. There’s something in her code that I need to crack, and I won’t stop until I figure it out.
When I notice that she’s placed her hand strategically close to my side of the table, it takes me a moment to slow down and consider how to proceed. I don’t want to come on too strong, but it seems like she’s just as interested in me as I am in her. There’s a glimmer in her eye as she tilts her head slightly, allowing her messy blonde curls to cascade over her face.
I inch my hand towards hers to gauge her reaction, and she lifts her fingers to receive me as I grow closer. The second my hand grazes her flesh, I’m electrified. I haven’t felt such an intense desire for someone since I was young, when my lust dominated my entire being. I thought I had moved on from that part of my life, but it’s coming back to haunt me.
And I’m going to let it.
As our drinks arrive, I take mine with my free hand while keeping the other one right on top of hers as I stroke her palm, working my way up her wrist to her forearm. It’s the most intimate expression of my lust that I’ve allowed in years, and we’re hardly even touching. This woman is doing something to me that I can’t explain, and I’m willing to let her continue if it means I can have her for just one night.
Trying to continue the conversation is absolutely agonizing. All I want to do is ravish her, stripping her dress off and seeing the true depth of her beauty that she tragically hides from the world.
However, I know that it’s uncouth and boorish of me to demand sex in any context this early into a relationship with a woman. Perhaps in my youth, maybe, but not now. I need to be better than that. If she wants it, I trust she’ll let me know.
“Do you want to take a walk?” I ask. I figure that this gesture could be interpreted ambiguously enough to give her the lead.
“Yes, please. Where should we go?” she asks enthusiastically.
I point down to the beach at the base of the hill. “Just down there. The nature along the trail is stunning. For sure, something worth living in the moment for.”
She blushes as I take her hand, and we head down to the stone stairs that lead directly to the seaside path.
Holding her hand is simultaneously more than enough and an absolute tease. She isn’t even behaving in a sexual manner, but her very presence radiates sensuality. I’m dying to press my body against hers, to feel her wrapped around me, slick and warm, as I explore her depths.
Her expression is coy and demure for the duration of the walk, and we spend most of the time in silence as we admire the flowers scattered along the path. I feel such an intense connection to her that I have no idea how to get a grip on it before it overtakes me. I pride myself on my composure, but this strange woman is about to unravel me with nothing but a half-smile.
As we approach a turning point in the trail, she turns to me with a knowing look in her eye. “So, where should we go from here?”
“I was thinking we could go back to my place, maybe for a glass of wine?” I say, making no attempts to cover my true intentions at this point.
