At First Sight

The Date

Michael rubbed his hands together nervously as he stepped from the elevator. Approaching the pearly white door, her reached out a clenched fist to tap it twice. A short time later the door swung open and his jaw dropped as he drew in a desperate breath.

Sara stood before him in a long red dress that shimmered to a plum colour in the light. It was strapless, hugging her body perfectly, contouring every outline, accentuating her breasts awesomely. By her thigh it divided to the floor, exposing her long, smooth creamy skin to his widened eyes. He followed her legs to the floor dry mouthed and heart racing. Her delicate feet were cradled in some strappy plum heels, buckled at her fine ankles.

His hungry peruse of her body continued back up to her rounded face, brushed gracefully with make up. Her hair was half up and half down, pinned into a twisted curl behind her head, a wavy bunch of curls splashing her bare shoulders. She also clutched a small black purse.

"Wow," was all he could muster, suddenly feeling underdressed. He was dressed in a black single-breasted dinner suit, his crisp white shirt cuffs peeking from the sleeves. Silver cufflinks pulled the edges together and a single black button closed the jacket at the front. Satin lapels matched a bowtie fastened around his neck and the shirt collar tips pointed out over its bows.

"Wow yourself," she smiled, drinking in his presence with her eyes. She stepped towards him in the hall, the door closing behind her with a click. "Shall we?" she shook him from his sordid daydream. Blushing Michael held out his arm, bent at the elbow. Sara laced her fingers around his strong arms, the muscles rippling beneath her manicured fingertips as they made their way to his car.

His car was big, silver and executive. Sara sunk into the cream leather interior as if it was made to fit her and her hands rested over one another on her lap. Michael peeled his eyes off the road for a second to glance at her one more time. "You look beautiful Sara," he told her, causing her to blush and turn away from him to hide it. He smiled and returned his eyes to the road.

"Thank you Michael," she smirked out of the window. The streetlights flashed by as they drove to the restaurant. Michael had made reservations almost out of town at a restaurant called Zelos, an expensive establishment if ever Sara had seen one.

As they drove up to the door a short man wearing a red waistcoat and pristine white gloves opened Sara's door. Michael exited his side, pulling his shirt down his arms and he handed his keys to another man clad in red. He extended a sensitive hand to her with a smile and she took it willingly, allow him to pull her from the car. A third man gave Michael a small ticket and his car was driven from view into an underground garage on the premises.

Sara's eyes danced as she took in the restaurant. Two huge marble columns surrounded two heavy swing doors. They were made of glass, the name of the restaurant etched into it in an italic calligraphy. An average sized man dressed in a white suit stood to one side of them, pulling the weighty doors open for people arriving and leaving the restaurant. As the approached him, he smiled, welcomed them in a fine Italian accent and held the door open for them.

"Michael, this is too much," Sara told him as they entered the lobby. It took her breath away. The walls were draped in red woven silks that hung in arches from the high domed ceiling. Soft Italian music invaded her ears and the spongy burgundy carpet muffled her footsteps. Michael squeezed her hand that rested over his arm as they approached another man in a white suit.

"Reservation for two for 8," he told the man who ran a long, bony finger down a page in a thick, leather bound book. The man nodded to Michael and smiled at Sara. He grabbed two menus from a rack next to him and motioned for them to follow him. Around them couples laughed and chatted happily while waiters buzzed to and fro collecting plates and dispensing lavish meals.

Michael pulled Sara's chair out from under the table and she sat. He helped her push it under the table before taking his own seat opposite her. Still in shock Sara smiled at him across the table, their eyes swimming in each other's. "Michael..." she began but he cut her off.

"I know," he said reading her mind and picking up his menu. "But you're worth it" a smile shining over his menu causing her to flush under his gaze again. Sara picked up her own menu and they muttered between themselves, deciding what to have to eat. Once they had decided and the waiter had scampered off to the kitchen, they leant forward on the table closer to each other.

"So let's get to know each other a little more," she beamed at him, mimicking his words from lunch. Michael let out a manly chuckle, the corners of his eyes pinching together as he did so. "I don't even know your surname," she informed him through an open mouthed grin that stole the breath from Michael's chest. He coughed into a balled fist and clapped his hands together.

"Well, my name is Michael," he chimed while she took a sip of her sparkling champagne that had arrived for them.

"Really?" she mocked, swallowing the bubbles as they danced on her tongue.

"I am an engineer, one brother, twenty nine years old," he took a breath, filling his lungs to the brim. He picked up his champagne glass. "Single," he added, placing it to his lips with a smile. Sara loved his playful banter. He was charming and funny, smart and gorgeous and she couldn't stop thinking about him. She studied his hands as they moved, knowing their capabilities and dexterity. "Your turn," he smirked.

Sara smacked her lips together making an audible clap in her mouth. "Sara Tancredi, MD," she paused proudly as he raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. "No siblings, twenty five years old," she paused again as their meals arrived, the plates clinking with their glasses on the table. Michael thanked the waiter without taking his eyes from Sara's for a second. "Single," she finally said, copying his attempt at flirting.

Michael's heart flurried in his chest sending blood surging around his mannish bulk. He watched her delicately placed mouth as she ate and imagined kissing her there, tasting the remnants of her meal. They chatted some more over little trivial things. Sara explained that she was the governor's daughter and hoped it didn't affect his judgement of her. It didn't and Michael shrugged it off, reassuring her that he would still be sitting where he was were she the daughter of a murderer.

"I don't judge people by their family's actions," he confessed, resting his knife and fork neatly together on his empty plate. "My father was an abusive drunk who ran out of my brother an I before I was even born"

Sara felt a pang in her heart. He seemed fine but she knew it was a front, a façade to deter her from apologising for his father or asking more painful questions. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and neither spoke. Finally Sara leant across the table and took his hand in her, wrapping them in warmness. His eyes met hers as they had so many times and he smiled weakly, squeezing her hands in a silent thank you.

"Let's get dessert at my place," she winked, licking her lips seductively. Michael sprang to life, tearing one hand from the bundle on the table and waving a finger in the air for a waiter.

"Check please!" he bellowed as Sara giggled.