Drunken Night

The secret I’ve found in online dating is: If there’s chemistry across the computer screen, it will exist face-to-face, and if there’s not, chances are that sparks will not magically come about. I’ve been so intuitive about whom I date via the internet that I’ve either entered into relationship or had a romantic affair each time I’ve gone out on a date. I prefer to correspond with a new love interest for a week or several weeks to allow our connection to unfold in writing, and then we’ll have a first date somewhere.
When my serious girlfriend parted ways with me, I was intent on being active to distract myself from the sadness of the breakup. “The best way to get over one woman,” as they say, “is to get under a new one”. I switched my dating profile back on that day, uploaded fancy photos with my ex cropped out, and pursued the architect who had caught my attention on the site.
Camille exuded a happy glow that I found contagious. She had long, flowing, blond hair, blue eyes with a mischievous twinkle, and a physique that sent my imagination on fast-forward. I felt we would like each other and favorited her page. Within minutes she favorited mine and an alert popped onto the computer screen: You like each other! It is a match! We began corresponding back and forth, discovering we had much in common, and she asked me out for a glass of wine.
I was nervous. I hadn’t been on a date since my ex-girlfriend and was intent on enjoying my night with the architect. The bartender convinced me to order a bottle of wine since it was half off at happy hour, and I sat at a table with the bottle of red wine and two glasses. Camille walked in and introduced herself, shaking my hand. She was calm and confident, dressed in blue jeans and a v-neck shirt. Conversation didn’t flow exactly at that moment, but once we were facing each other at the table, laughing and smiling, it was obvious that the chemistry was real and it dawned on me that she could become my next girlfriend. Three hours in, we were both accidentally drunk on that bottle of wine and she reached across the table for my hand, sensually, playfully caressing my palm.
Her hand was warm and about the same size, with delicate gold rings on two fingers. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered. We gazed deeply into each other’s eyes while people conversed at the tables around us and tea candles flickered. I wanted to take her somewhere more private and suggested going on a late night walk in the neighborhood, an excuse for more deviant activities. A man at a table gave her a high-five on the way out, whatever that meant. Holding hands, we strolled down the street in the near darkness. She was two inches taller with her high heels on and paused in front of a house to lean in and kiss me, her long hair entangling with mine. My hands found a way inside her back pockets, and we explored each other’s mouths with our tongues.
Unexpectedly, she pinned me up against the side of the wooden fence, slipping her hands beneath my shirt, and traveled up the length of my torso to my red lace bra, intentionally worn in the event of sex on the first date. She pushed my bra aside and massaged my nipples out in the night air, continuing to kiss me and the side of my neck. I glanced left and right to ensure that no one was around on the street. “We could get in my car,” I said, and it was parked at the curb not far from the bar. She followed me in and instantly straddled me, pushing the seat backwards to passionately make out and pull aside my shirt, her high heels dropping to the floor of the car. Evidently the calm and collected Camille got wild after a few glasses of wine. I was giddy and more relaxed.
I had her take off her bra, and in the half light of the car, took in the full view of her large breasts with a necklace dangling between them. I closed in on them with my mouth, feeling thrilled and totally pleased, with the fierceness of her desire switching me on as much as the complexity of her architect’s mind. We heard people coming and had to duck in our topless state as they walked by my car with its fogged up windows, almost catching sight of us twisted together on the passenger’s seat, which was when decided to make our second date at her house.

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