Mark Your Mark — A Date Gone Wrong
by Andrea Dunn
She focused on the grain on the back of the wooden door to steady her nerves. Though she came here with some regularity, it was usually with some of her girlfriends after work. Tonight was different.
So far, Kristi thought, the date was going relatively well, even given her nervousness. Mark had picked her up right on time, which in itself made more than a few points with her. She recalled with a wry smile his total understanding when she asked to be picked up at a local Starbucks as opposed to her townhome. You just never knew anymore who could be a great guy one night and a crazy ass stalker the next.
She finished and stood, waiting for the sound of the toilet flushing automatically behind her. Quickly she pulled down her skirt and put herself back together a bit before opening the door.
The bright fluorescent lights of the bathroom startled her as she exited the stall, and she took a moment to let her eye readjust to the new light level before fixing her face.
The face which looked back at her from the mirror was young, but perhaps not as young as most would guess just by looking at her. Although Kristi had freshly turned thirty, she knew she could and did pass for a girl almost ten years younger. She opened her mouth slightly to apply a finishing touch of lipstick before stepping back a bit to give herself a final visual once over.
Now to see if Mark was still at the table, she thought, opening the door and stepping back into the small and cozy French bistro.
She was still almost fifteen feet away when she saw Mark look up from the table and flash a warm and soft smile in her direction. She unknowingly returned it, all the while realizing that the sound of her heels on the wooden floor made it not only impossible to surprise anyone in the restaurant, but also made her, at least for a few moments, the center of attention.
“Thank you,” she said as Mark held her chair for her. “It isn’t like you and the world didn’t hear me coming a mile away.”
“No,” he said as he reached for his wine glass, “I don’t think that elderly gentleman over there turned his head your way. The rest did, though to the ire of their companions for the evening.”
“Mark,” Kristi whispered, leaning forward so that her chest brushed against the edge of the table, “I think that the elderly man is blind, you know.”
Mark laughed softly and cocked his head slightly to the side, “OK, so he is. Should I tell him what he is missing out on?”
“Goodness no,” she replied, feeling the flush which always accompanied compliments directed her way. He was obviously flirting with her, which from her perspective was a fine art. Usually a comment that obvious would strike her as cliché or trite. Yet somehow Mark made it sound sincere.
Perhaps it was, Kristi thought.
The rest of the dinner passed even more pleasantly than the first half, and Kristi found herself relaxing, enjoying the quiet sounds of conversations in the distance and the divine aromas of her coq au vin.
Mark seemed to follow suit, and soon their conversation became more natural and Kristi felt herself having fun and even tossing out a few jokes. Unbeknownst to Mark, this was a sign that she was starting to let down at least a few of her walls. It was hard for her to let anyone in, but what was behind the walls was worth the wait.
At least she thought so.
They stood almost in unison from the table after Mark had paid the bill, but as she was about to thank him for the lovely dinner, she caught a look of distress on his face. Quickly he stood and rushed to her side.
“Let me help you, dear,” he said, leaning in and helping with her chair.
“Oh, my,” Kristi replied, “That’s so nice. I’ve never had a man help me up before — it was always just helping me sit.” Damn it, she thought to herself the second she said it. She’d rather poke her eyes out with her heels than sound like such an immature schoolgirl.
She stood and realized again that Mark smelled like no other man she’d been out with before. Somehow he had captured that fresh out of the shower smell that she adored. Surely this was some sort of product and she found herself dying to ask what exactly it was, though that again might result in a round of her new favorite sport — heel poking.
With a near electric jolt, she was snapped back to reality by the light touch of Mark’s hand on the small of her back. Inadvertently she looked up and straight into his deep brown eyes. For a moment she felt he was going to lean forward and close that last little sliver of space between them and kiss her.
“You okay?” he asked, looking intently down at her.
“Yes,” she murmured, feeling like he’d just caught her in her own little Dionysian fantasy. “I just think my foot fell asleep. Need to get the circulation back a bit.”
“Sure,” Mark replied as a small smile crept across his face, “Let me help you.”
She felt his arm slide around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She realized now that regardless of whether he felt this was a coy ploy to get him to hold her or a sincere loss of circulation that she would need to play along a bit. She glanced down at her feet, which were sleekly sheathed in five inch black sling-back pumps. For whatever reason, she decided it would be her right foot which was the trouble.
She again felt the tingle on the back of her neck which always happened when she felt men were watching her from behind. On impulse she let her hips swing a bit more for a step or two, but almost immediately felt Mark’s grip tighten just slightly.
“Just testing the new foot,” she said in Mark’s direction and with a slight chuckle, “I wanted to see if it was fine to take my weight.” Not likely that she could tell him that though she was by no means an exhibitionist, she did enjoy men finding her attractive.
Finally they got to the valet stand and as Mark asked for his car, Kristi felt the cool breeze coming off the Gulf brush past her legs. What felt cool on her bare legs felt almost chilly on her arms.
“It will be just a minute,” Mark said as he turned back to face her. “It has cooled down since we got here, hasn’t it.”
Wordlessly he took off his dinner jacket and draped it over her shoulders, and Kristi felt his hand gently run down her arms, almost as if to make sure she was well protected from the brisk night air. Kristi instantly felt the heavy wool warming her skin.
With a flash of the headlights and a quick double-toot on the horn, the valet brought around Mark's crisp but understated midnight blue Lexus. As the valet came around, Mark gave him his tip along with a slight smirk for the unappreciated toot.
After giving the valet the stink-eye, Mark opened the passenger door for Kristi and guided her with the lightest of touches. She noticed that his hand lingered a bit longer on the small of her back, though she didn't mind. In fact, she was always a sucker for gentlemanly conduct as it was becoming so increasingly rare. But was it her imagination or did his hand brush a bit lower this time?
As the door opened his hand brushed around her hip and then left her, hanging in mid-air to take her hand and help her into the plush interior. As she took his hand for the first time, she was surprised at how soft yet firm it was. How was it that the most innocent of gestures could suddenly set her off on a river of consciousness?
Without her even realizing it, Mark shut her door and quickly slid into the seat beside her and shut his own door with a soft click. Without a sound the soft and melodic sounds of some classical artist encompassed the cabin, its quiet power warming her as much as Mark's jacket had a moment before.
Mark slid the car into gear and pulled away from the restaurant. At the stop sign leaving the entry he stopped — and for much longer than he should.
'Mark,' Kristi asked from under somewhat wine heavy eyelids, 'Is everything alright?'
'Actually, no,' Mark sullenly replied, 'It isn't.'
The car suddenly and immediately grew silent in spite of the music. Deafeningly so.
Uh-oh, Kristi thought to herself as her natural and overblown sense of paranoia came barreling suddenly to
