Single in the City: Cat and Mouse 1.5

Cat and Mouse – 1.5

 This is a continuation of my original post, The Sweet Thrills of Cat meets Mouse…

After four years of running into each other in the most unexpected places, Mr. Los Angeles and I finally had a conversation that lasted longer than “hello” and “bye”. For the first time, I could stare into his eyes and trace the curve of his jaw, his lips, his eyes – every inch was delectable, beautiful and manly. His sweet, shy and wholesome smile pierced my soul, totally disarmed me. Where I was, was all I wanted to be. On this New York dance floor, we shared our second “first dance”, our first “first dance” was four years earlier in Los Angeles. Every bit of our steamy dance was in lockstep; we flowed, matched, and melted effortlessly into each other’s arms.

As the evening wound down, it occurred to me to snap out of it and keep the game going. Never one to overstay my welcome, I abruptly announced I was leaving. He had the look of deep longing on his face, all he could manage to mumble was “I’ll get you a cab”. As we walked down the street, he suddenly pulled me against a building wall. Gazing intensely into my eyes, he boldly asked: “where do you see yourself three years from now, what are your plans?” Filles et garçons (girls and boys), he totally destabilized me. I was not expecting this question and I certainly was not prepared. Unrelenting, he asked me again. I mumbled some “BS” about my career and tagged on a comment about being settled in a meaningful relationship. He looked at me with a satisfied smile, as though I had just aced a pop quiz of sorts. Believing this was over, I breathed a sigh of relief thinking “ok, can we find a cab now?” Instead, he pressed all 5″10 of himself on my petite 5”1 frame and attempted to bless me with a long deep kiss. Despite every ounce of me wanting to partake in what I believed would have been a glorious encounter, I gracefully declined, holding my own – the man has not been tried or tested. Like a seasoned gentleman-playboy, he did not miss a beat. Unabashed, he pulled back and haled the next yellow that zoomed by. I thanked him for a lovely evening and with deliberate poise, eased myself into the yellow. Just as he was shutting the door (as he should), he tossed a twenty on my lap, and before I could say boo, the cab pulled off. All I could do was wave, shout thank you and blow him a hearty kiss.

As I settled in the cab, heading uptown, my head whizzed as the questions started coming. What just happened? God why do I keep running into this man? New York is small, but is it really that small? Will I ever see him again? Will he call? Will there be a real first date? As my thoughts reeled in endless circles, I was jolted back to reality with the stinging words of the cabbie yelling “between what avenue ma’am?”. Later that night, I found myself blanking in front of my bathroom mirror, all the while replaying the evening again and again. Still, I prepped for bed – a hot shower, clean teeth and a healthy dose of Vitamin E oil around my eyes. I finished with a habit I’ve kept for over ten years, a sprinkling of the parfum de jour before going to bed- this evening, Bvlgari pour Femme. None of my bedtime rituals, not even my soft clean sheets, or extra plump pillows could bring me comfort. This man was haunting my every thought. And then I remembered his words “text me when you get home” and so I did. More to come…