It had been a week since you went to the gallery opening with Simon, where you had met the stunning Bette Porter. The museum’s business card that she had given you was propped against a picture frame on your dresser. You stare at the back of it as you sit on your bed, looking at the words ‘Bette Porter’ printed neatly, followed by a phone number. You had been waging the battle of desperately wanting to call and not wanting to sound too desperate for the last seven days, and you figured it was about time that the wanting to call won out. Taking out your cell phone you enter the numbers, and with one last deep breath, hold the phone to your ear. After 3 rings a familiar voice sounds on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Bette? We met at the gallery a week ago, I’m sorry it took me so long to call but I..”

“Hi! How are you, I was hoping you’d call, how have you been? Her cheerful voice immediately sets you at ease, and you blush without thinking.

“Good, thanks. Look, I really did have a great time with you last Friday, and I was ummm, well I was wondering if you would like, to maybe.”

“I’d love too get together.” She says quickly before you can finish your sentence. 

“Oh. ok, well, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yea, after 2:00, would you like to get dinner? I know a great place near the museum.” 

“That sounds great. I’ll see you tomorr.oh, *****.” You cut yourself off. 

“What, what is it?” Bette asks with concern. 

“My car is getting work done on it, and my friend Simon is going to be out of town so I can’t borrow his.” You scrunch your brow, knowing that you just might keel over and die if you have to put off seeing Bette Porter again for any longer. 

“It’s ok, I’ll pick you up.” She answers quickly. 

“No, I can’t ask you to do that, it’s completely out of the way. I’d feel bad.” 

“Please, it would be my pleasure, is 5:00 ok?” You sigh, but can’t contain the smile that creeps up into the corners of your lips.

“Ok, yea, 5 is good.” You proceed to give her your address before hanging up and flopping back on your bed. In under 5 minutes Bette’s voice alone had sent your heart racing, you could only imagine what sitting across a table from her, much less, skin-to-skin contact was capable of. You grin widely, already anticipating the next evening’s activities.

Work the next day creeps by at a snail’s pace, a grin continually creeping across your face as you envision the oncoming evening. The image of Bette’s face flashes through your mind continuously throughout the day and with every thought of her wavy soft hair, full lips, mocha skin, and lean muscular body your heart flutters, and blood rushes from your brain towell, other areas of your body. It seems that the more you think about her, the more tantalizing and attractive she becomes.

Jenna notices your demeanor throughout the day, and several times you catch her glancing over at you furtively and with curious suspicion. It may have been the devil within you, but you couldn’t help but be deviously happy that you have the hot date tonight and not her, and that she had lost the control over you that had once been so strong. 

During one particular moment in which you were lost in mental Bette bliss, she comes up behind you. “So what are you so giddy about today?” Her attempt at sounding nonchalant is lost and you just smile.

“Oh nothing, just looking forward to getting out of work. I’ve got plans tonight.” Your ambiguous answer gets the response you’d hoped for, and she huffs off in an obviously irritated state. 

Finally your shift is over and you head home. Without Simon around you’re on your own in terms of wardrobe. You open your closet, staring blankly into the unknown. After much deliberation and many walks in front of the full length mirror you settle on a slinky black top that dips down to expose a teasing amount of cleavage, and a pair of fitted beige slacks that, as Simon says “gives Beyonce’s ***** a run for its money”. You apply some subtle makeup, and as a last touch, spritz on some of your Chanel perfume.

– Sitting on your couch waiting for Bette to call, thoughts begin to amble through your mind. “What if Bette doesn’t call? What if I’m dressed too fancy? What if she’s just into me because she thinks I like art?” Your heart begins to palpitate, and your palms are sweating. You hadn’t been this nervous about a date since your first girlfriend in high school. On that thought, your cell phone buzzes on the seat next to you, Bette’s cell number flashing on the screen. Taking a deep breath, you answer the phone.

– “Hey, it’s Bette, I’m downstairs, are you ready?”

“Yea, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Great, see you soon!” Again her voice gives you goose-bumps, and as you descend the stairs of your apartment building your pulse steadily rises. You step out of the building and there is Bette, leaning against her car, a silver BMW. She raises an eyebrow at you, and you wonder if it’s because she noticed the way you sort of stumbled in your tracks when you see her, or whether it’s because she likes what she sees. When you say she looks breathtaking, it is not an overstatement by any degree. In the lingering evening sun, her wavy hair, pushed back behind sunglasses, tumbles down over her shoulders. A clingy turquoise tank top exposes her tanned, toned arms, and from her knee length black skirt her legs seem to go on forever. Your repeated imagination of this moment had not been a fantasy, it was now a reality.

She walks towards you grinning widely, and the sight of her approaching makes you freeze in your tracks, all synapses in your brain suddenly at a stand still. The pointy, strappy and complicated looking pair of heels that she’s wearing make her a few inches taller than you, and she has to lean down slightly to kiss your cheek. “You look stunning.” She says, her eyes quickly, but noticeably scanning your frame.

– “You too, you are so beautiful.” As soon as the words have left your mouth you feel the surge of blood into you blushing cheeks. Did you just say that? You avoid eye contact for a few seconds hoping she doesn’t notice your bashfulness. She chuckles and reaches over, gently squeezing your hand. 

“Thank you. Now, are you ready to get this night started?”

“Yea, let’s go.” You smile, as she leads you over to her car and opens the door for you. Slipping into the leather seat, she walks around and climbs into the driver’s seat. Within moments the car whirs into motion and your first data with Bette Porter is officially underway.

Sitting across from Bette at the small Thai restaurant that she had chosen for your first date, you wonder how it is that you have ever not known this woman. The two of you have not stopped talking from the time you got in the car until now. If you were previously impressed by her knowledge of art you are now equally amused at her great sense of humor, as you both quip back and forth, while talking about various subjects. She tells you about how she got started at the gallery, and how one day she hopes to run one of her own. She listens intently as you tell her how you hope to one day start your own restaurant, and how you’re working at Caf Muriel until you save up enough money. 

Of every woman you’ve ever been on a date with, small number that it may be, you’ve never known anyone to listen to you the way Bette does. Her deep brown eyes search your face as you speak, making you feel like you’re the only one in the room. In the middle of your story about how you moved to California from Massachusetts after high school, and how it’s hard being away from your close-knit family, your eyes wander to Bette’s hand which has slowly inched across the table and now rests on yours. You momentarily forget about the sentence leaving your mouth as you gaze down at her long fingers which gently caress your palm. The electricity you remember so vividly tingles through your body again, ten-fold, and your breath catches.

“Where was I?” You ask, racking your brain to remember what you were talking about.

 ”How it’s hard for you to be away from people that you love.” Bette answers directly, again, her eyes meeting yours. You grin sheepishly. 

“Oh, right, yea. Well, yea, it’s hard you know? Especially here, I’ve found that it’s really hard to meet new people around here, well, normal nice people I mean. 

“I hear ya, LA isn’t the easiest place to move to when you’re alone. I remember when I first got here, I felt like I could barely keep my head above water. But time goes on and you meet people, you make friends, and things get better. Like this, right? I can feel things getting better right now.” 

“You’re right, things are definitely getting better.” You smile back, appreciating the genuine simplicity in Bette’s kind words. “Well, I’m totally stuffed, and I think our waiter’s about to physically throw us out the door.” You gesture subtly to the young guy behind the hostess desk, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface. You then glance around and notice that the entire restaurant has emptied. Bette glances down at her watch. 

“Holy *****, it’s almost 12, no wonder he’s pissed. Okay, I’ll take care of the check, be right back.” Before waiting to hear your rebuttal, Bette strides over to the desk and within minutes is back, to get her bag, and you.

Walking to her car in a nearby lot, you breathe in the warm California air, just revelling in the weather, the twinkling lights and the beautiful woman beside you. This has been by far the best date you have ever been on. You’re only saddened by the fact that it is winding down to its inevitable end. On the drive back to your apartment, similar thoughts wander through your head. The ongoing banter from earlier has been replaced by a relaxed and comfortable silence, and Bette turns on some lulling jazz. You recognize the soothing musical rhythms of Antonio Carlos Jobim, and appreciate the way it compliments this perfect evening.

At your apartment building, you procrastinate going inside and loiter outside as Bette thanks you for the evening.

“No, thank you, I had a wonderful time.” You respond somewhat shyly. A few moments of silence elapse before either of you speak. It is Bette who breaks the pause. 

“Ok, well, guess it’s time to say goodbye. I’ll talk to you tomorrow maybe?” Your heart drops slightly at her genteel response, hoping she might have been more forward, but also appreciate the polite respect she’s offering you. 

“Definitely.” You smile and reach for the doorknob. Quickly, she leans in and places a gentle kiss on your cheek before turning back to walk to her car. Your heart rate skips from the brief, burning contact of her lips on your skin, and you turn to fumble with the lock on the building entrance. Just as you feel the bolt click and the door shift open, you feel the light pressure of a hand on your shoulder. 

You turn around to see Bette, her face close enough to yours that you feel the warmth of her breath on your cheek. Yet, her expression has changed, from the coy, demure look of a few moments earlier to a steamy gaze that now blazes into you. Before your mind can fully register what’s even happening, the lips that had so swiftly grazed your cheek just moments earlier, are now pressed against your mouth. Words cannot explain the volt that shoots through your body as you feel her hand slip behind your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss. Her lips are soft, yet pressed firmly against yours and a slight moan escapes your throat, as you melt into the embrace, into the contact your body had been craving from the first moment you saw Bette. As your lips begin slow movement against hers she leans you back against the door, and you nearly trip as it swings inside a bit more, your keys still dangling from the brass keyhole. Her other hand is immediately on the small of your back to prevent you from falling, and you can feel her lips curve into a smile against yours as she moves you a bit farther into the building. 

A few strands of her wavy hair fall and tickle your face and shoulders, and the sensory overload of that, the smell of her perfume mixing with yours, and the feel of her hands and lips on you make your head spin. Soon you find that you’re fully inside the door and she leans you gently against the mailboxes, which line the wall to your right. You are momentarily cooled by the metal against your back, only to have new fire ignited in you as you feel her tongue meet yours, pausing for a minute to savor the taste of each other mouths, then gradually regaining the fervor as your lips move together again.

At the moment you feel your legs about to give out from the burning between them, a subtle but obvious coughing at the doorway catches your attention. Bette hears it as well and separating from the lip-lock, you both turn to see a small man and women in their sixties looking at you embarassedly, and with a bit of curiosity. You recognize them as Mr. and Mrs. Brigley, the couple who live two floors down from you, who have the yappy yorkshire terrier. Bette moves her body away from yours and steps aside as the couple shuffles past, whispering to each other as they walk down the hall. When they’re finally out of earshot, Bette lets out a loud sigh, and you chuckle in response, as you wait for the flush in your cheeks to subside. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. that was. I didn’t mean to well, attack you like that.” Bette says hesitantly, reaching to hold your hand.

“No, it’s ok, really.” You say, not wanting to make it known how much you had actually been craving that kiss all along.

“I just lost my self control I guess. I couldn’t help it.” She smiles at you, and at that moment you wish that you hadn’t been interrupted, that her warm, soft lips were still on yours. “Well, I guess I really am going to go now. Ok..bye.” 

“Bye” you say, much to your chagrin as Bette finally turns and leaves the building. Walking up the stairs to your apartment, you shake your head, disbelieving of the intense encounter you have just experienced. Unlocking your apartment door, you head straight for the bathroom, stripping your clothes along the way, and turning on the cool water faucet of the shower. Stepping in, you let the jets of water cool your burning blood, and you close your eyes, reliving the kiss and just imagining what the rest of the weekend has in store.