Didi Oviatt

“I’m really sorry I have to leave like this.” Refusing to look into Vincent’s excited eyes, I speak my apologies to the table.

“No problem, really.” He says with a stomach churning grin.  “Can I call you sometime?  I would love to do this again if you’re up for it.”

“I… Um… Yeah.”  I stumble over myself, confused.

The date had been great so far.  Calming myself, I quickly decide that his odd behavior may just be lack of understanding.  Against better judgment, I take the readied pen from his hand.  I scribble my number on a cheap, thin, napkin and slide it in his direction. Without another word I turn away. I can feel his eyes piercing my backside like daggers.  A chill shoots down my spine, and a low sensual tone follows me as I walk away from the table.

“Good luck with your emergency.” He whispers.


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