The Virgin

Chapter Eleven - First Date (Last Date)

"Just be yourself, but not," Lacy says, stuffing a roll of condoms into my small purse.

"I'm not going to need that . . . many," I say, considering the idea of having sex and not feeling completely freaked out about it.

"Trust me, the more the better." She tucks them into the small bag next to my lipstick.

"I'm really nervous," I whine.

"Of course you are! Go to dinner, have some drinks, feel it out. And if you feel like having a hot guy that's totally into you make sweet love to you, then do it. Off you go!"

Lacy pushes me out the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making sure you don't have any way of chickening out on this."

She walks me into the hallway and goes back inside my apartment, saying, "Have fun." Then she closes the door on my face. I stand in the hallway waiting for my heels to walk me to the elevator when I remember that Bodhi is picking me up. I can't very well be loitering in the hallway.

I bang on my apartment door.

"Lacy, let me in!"

I hear the door intercom buzz loudly in my apartment. No! He's here.

"Hello," Lacy says, into the intercom."Oh hi, Bodhi. Yep, come on up. She's been waiting for you."

Oh my god, she is worse than my mother. I bang on the door again as I hear the elevator motor engage. This is not good. I look too eager.

"Let me in, I mean it!" I yell to Lacy.

"You have to do this," she says through the door. "No chickening out."

"I'm not chickening out!" I yell loudly, just as the elevator doors open behind me.

"Hello," Bodhi says, stepping into the hallway. I turn and give him a smile.

"Oh, hello," I answer back, super casually. "I was going to come down to meet you."

Bodhi holds the elevator door open, "Not all chivalry is dead."

I walk past him and into the elevator. He steps in after me and presses the first floor button. We stand there together for the long minute ride down. I can feel the energy between us growing. Everything that happened in the park is coursing through my body and I can't get the taste of his mouth out of my mind. I'm about to say something, but he gets there first.

"I hope you like Italian."

The elevator stops and we step out into the lobby. We walk out to the curb where I expect him to hail a cab, but instead he opens the car door to a beautiful cherry-red coupe.

"Is this yours?" I ask, lowering myself into the leather seat.

"It is while I'm in New York," he says, shutting the door.

He climbs into the driver's seat and we cruise through Manhattan. I find out the car is an Alpha Romeo 8C and is owned by a buddy who lives here in the city. He is also a brilliant surgeon, but in cardiology. We make small talk like that all the way to the restaurant and pull into the valet. The restaurant is very busy and there are valets running from fancy sports car to luxury car.

I look up at the signage on the building, which reads: Bellerose.

"I thought we were having Italian," I say, as he helps me out of the car.

"The car is Italian. The food is French."

He holds my hand as we walk into the upscale brasserie. Single-stem roses adorn the white-clothed tables. Crystal chandeliers pull the large room together, and servers wearing long aprons and black vests with ties approach the tables with style and elegance. I fought Lacy so hard when she forced me to buy this Carmen Marc Valvo black cocktail dress and this pair of Louboutin black pumps. Now, I am sending her a silent "thank you" for her stubborn demeanor, because men and women are turning their heads to see my date and me as we walk through this stylish room. I am Grace Kelly and Bodhi is my Prince Rainier.