"Dinner is here?"
"I hope you like French cooking."
"I do. I like most foods."
There was a table waiting for us at a nice French restaurant. The restaurant was upscale, with cloth tablecloths and linens. Moira held my chair for me. She sat to my left.
As soon as we were both seated, she had her hand on my arm, her fingers still, just barely touching me. We smiled briefly.
"How do you feel about sharing?" she asked me.
"It depends," I said. "On whether I like whatever you order."
She smiled. We agreed on two dishes, and we each ordered tea.
Moira was an excellent conversationalist, deftly steering our conversation between topics. She asked me about my job, complemented me on my appearance, and thanked me again for volunteering myself for the auction.
"Will you do it again?" she asked.
I laughed. "I haven't finished my involvement for this time, and you're asking about next year." I paused. "Somehow I don't think I'd be quite the novelty next year."
She smiled. "You might not achieve quite the success you did this year, but you would still do well." She stroked my arm while staring into my eyes. It was very pleasant, and I closed my own eyes, enjoying the attention.
"You like this?" she asked, continuing to stroke my arm.
I nodded my head slightly.
We sat quietly, my eyes closed, while Moira lightly stroked my arm. I wasn't used to this, not at all. She turned my hand over and extended her touch into the palm of my hand, running the ball of two fingers up and down my arm and into my hand.
Finally I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was staring at me intently. I looked between her eyes and her hand. She was making me tingly. I squirmed a little.
"Too much?" She asked. "Do I need to stop?"
"No." I paused. "No one has ever done that to me before."
"Seriously?"
"Will you sit on my other side later?" I asked with a grin.
She laughed lightly. "Yes."
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the touching. "Am I being greedy?"
"No. I would do this all night if you let me."
I squirmed again and opened my eyes. "I'm sure the arm would become over stimulated."
"I will just have to vary my touches then."
We sat quietly after that. Our food arrived, and I was deeply disappointed when Moira stopped touching me to serve us. She caught my sigh.
"Was that a request for more later?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure you're straight?" she asked.
I smiled. "Is that a question on the form?"
"What form?"
"The one you send in to claim your toaster oven."
She laughed loudly. "Are you telling me I'm going to win a toaster oven?"
"No, but if everything you do feels as nice as that did, maybe you'll win a toaster. Or at least some toast."
She laughed again.
I was disappointed she couldn't eat left-handed so she could continue to caress me. She asked me more about my job. I answered somewhat perfunctorily.
"Bad topic?"
"Not really. I'm good at my job, but most days it feels like I'm little more than a clerk. It's a good job, and it's important. I just feel like I landed in the wrong spot."
"Maybe a fresh opportunity will roll your way."
"Maybe." Then I asked her what she liked most about her job, and while she was talking, I stole a piece of chicken from her plate.
"Every piece of food you steal from my plate is one kiss I get later," she told me, smiling.
I made a point of thinking about it. She watched me. "Going to steal another one?"
"I'm wondering how many truffles I'm going to try to steal later," I admitted.
"Truffles are two kisses each. With tongue."
I laughed and stole another piece of chicken from her.
Her eyes grew wide at that. "Are you really going to pay for those later?"
"If you don't get cocky, I might." I paused, smiled, then said, "And if my arms get more of that lovely attention."
After that I got her to tell work stories about some of her clients. I asked her what her favorite house was.
"When I first became an agent, I helped this young couple buy a small house in South Minneapolis," she said. "I really had to go to bat to get them into the house, including a cut in my commission to help with the price. Three years ago, Debbie won the dot com lottery when the company she was working for was sold. Two years ago, they came to me and asked me to help them find a house on Lake Minnetonka. It took us nine months, but they ended up buying an absolutely fabulous home." She described the house.
"It sounds amazing."
"Debbie's mother joined us for some of the house viewings we did. After the third day out with us, right in front of me, she told Debbie flat out she was making a big mistake using me as an agent."
"Oh wow, how rude!"
"She had one point. I didn't know the Lake Minnetonka market as well as another agent might, but we sell hours all over town all the time."
"What happened?"
"Also in front of me, Debbie pointed out everything I had done the first time around. Then she clearly stated that as far as she was concerned, she would never buy or sell a home in Minnesota without me."
"Wow! Customer satisfaction."
She nodded. "I almost started crying. Debbie walked over, gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. It took another six months, but we found the perfect house. Debbie invited me to the housewarming. Her mother was there and cornered me."
"Oh no."
"No, it was okay. She asked me how long the house had been on the market. I told her I had shown it to Debbie and Ryan three hours after the initial paperwork had been signed, and it wasn't even in the system when we stepped inside. Dear Old Mom nodded and apologized to me."
At that point, Moira smiled then stole a piece of chicken back off my plate. I laughed. "What do I get for that?"
"More stroking."
"Have more chicken." I slid my plate slightly closer to her.
She laughed and took one more small piece.
By then we were both done eating, but we had time before our class. We sat at the table and drank our tea. Moira began casually stroking my arm again, and I moved slightly closer to her, closing my eyes.
"I am having a lovely time," she said a few minutes later.
"So am I," I admitted. "Thank you."
"Would you like to wander through the store before our class?"
I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Getting bored touching me?"
She smiled. "I want to move to the other arm."
"Let's go!"
She led the way out of the restaurant. As soon as we were back in the mall, she took my right hand in her left and began slowly stroking my arm with her right as we walked slowly through the mall.
I looked down at my arm and over at her.
"This is still all right?" she asked quietly.
"Yes. I'm feeling selfish though."
She smiled. "You're giving me a huge ego trip. Please just enjoy this."
Kitchen Window was a short walk through the mall. We presented ourselves at the front desk. "The class room will be open in about twenty minutes," the woman said. "But we have a shopping list if you were thinking about buying what you might need to make truffles at home."
She held out a sheet of paper. Moira took it from her, and we looked at it together.
I had offered to cook for Gwendolyn, but for some reason, making truffles for her seemed like it would be cheating on Moira. I certainly wasn't going to make truffles for myself, or make them all that often regardless.
I looked at Moira, wondering what she was thinking.
"If we make them at home for other people, it's going to feel weird," she said.
"Yeah."
I watched her think about it. "Until I've had my third date from you, I don't want you making truffles for anyone other t
han me," she said. "And I want a three-month moratorium afterwards before you make them for some guy."
I laughed. "How about my father?"
She smiled. "Oh, all right. You can make them for your father."
We wandered through the store, finding the items in the list. Moira took to standing behind me while we looked at something together, her arms wrapped around me slightly with her hands on my arms. I could feel her breath on my neck. At one point I turned around, and our lips were inches apart.
"Not yet," I told her quietly. "But I am enjoying being here with you."
She nodded.
Neither of us needed very many of the items on the list. I was becoming increasingly distracted by Moira's warmth behind me. Before we were done shopping, I waited until she was standing behind me again and turned my head to look at her.
"I don't want you to back off," I said. "This is nice. But sort of hold it at this point. Is that all right?"
She nodded. "More than all right."
She did back off a little, which disappointed me, but she stayed close and I could feel her warmth. She continued to touch me at every opportunity. My arms were starting to become over stimulated from the attention, and I didn't know what to offer instead.
She did. She shifted behind me while we were looking at candy thermometers. I had one, but Moira didn't. She shifted slightly to my right and then I felt her hand move from my arm to my shoulder, then slide down my back and rest on my hip. She gave me momentary shivers, but when she did it again, it felt nice. I leaned against her slightly in encouragement, just for a moment.
We added one of the candy thermometers to our basket and moved to the registers, separating my purchases from hers. She offered to pay for mine, but I refused. We each paid and had enough time to drop our bags off at her car. We held hands during the walk.
The cooking school is directly above the store. We arrived just as the instructor and two assistants were opening the doors. I had attended a couple of classes with this instructor before and had really liked her. She knew Moira on sight. Moira introduced me.
"You look familiar," she said.
"I took your bread class two years ago," I told her. "And a sushi class last year. I think you taught that."
She nodded.
"I sold Mandy her house," Moira told me. "That's how I learned about the cooking school."
Mandy led us to the best seats for the class then turned to greet her next students. Moira turned me to face her. "Which side do you want me on?"
I laughed. "My arms are over-stimulated, but I don't want you to stop."
"You have two legs," she said mischievously.
I sat down in the left of the two seats we'd been given and Moira took the right. After we settled in, Moira took my hand while we looked around.
The cooking school was a beautiful place of wood, stainless steel, and bright lights. We were seated towards the middle. This was to be a participation class, meaning we would get to try everything ourselves, but Mandy would be demonstrating everything first, and we had front row seats.
One of the attendants stopped by and asked what we would like to drink. "Herbal tea for me," I said. Moira asked for the same. Then we turned slightly sideways to face each other.
She was studying me. I wasn't sure why. I felt she was looking for something. I studied her back.
All this was very strange for me. I was on a date with a woman, a woman nearly ten years older than I was. She was treating me better than any man ever had, and I found myself drawn to her. She had an infectious smile and was very sweet and kind. I loved the way she made my nerve endings tingle when she touched me.
I started to wonder if I had been missing out on something all along. Why couldn't guys be as sweet as her? Had I just gone out with the wrong guys? Or was there something inherently different between how I was going to be treated by a woman. Was it just Moira and not women in general.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Not exactly," I said. "I am having an amazing time."
"Then why do you suddenly look so concerned?"
"I was contrasting this date with all my past dates."
"And?"
"I was wondering if I've been missing out all along."
She stared at me for a minute, perhaps wondering if I were just teasing her. I watched a variety of expressions cross her face. "Are you just flirting?" she asked finally.
"No. That's exactly what I was wondering. Perhaps in more detail."
Then she began to smile, and the room lit up with her smile. "Pamela, that is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
I squeezed her hand. "So then I started analyzing everything," I told her. "There are a lot of factors. It could be I was dating the wrong guys. It could be simply a maturity factor, that if I'd dated guys a little-" I was about to say "older".
"A little closer to my age?" she offered.
I smiled. "Perhaps my experiences would have been more like this." I paused. "But I don't think so." I shrugged. "I can't imagine a date with Bonnie being like this, though. She'd be spending the entire time trying to turn up the heat. She's a lot like a guy that way."
"I've been doing that," she said.
"Yes, but you know how to cook without burning the meal."
She laughed. "That could be maturity."
"Maybe. Maybe it's unique to you. Maybe you're being especially cautious with me tonight." I paused. "I'm babbling now. But that's what I was thinking about. I tend to over-analyze. It's an occupational hazard."
"It's cute," she said. "And thank you for the myriad of complements. They mean a lot to me."
"Did I earn more stroking?"
She laughed. "I thought you were over stimulated."
In response I released her hand and rolled my arm over so my palm was up and my fingers were resting on her leg. She shifted slightly and returned to her light strokes. Somehow they were different from before, giving me a new set of sensations to enjoy.
I enjoyed the stroking then leaned into her and said, "I love that. I don't want you to stop. But I need to get my head back on to enjoy the class."
"I know," she said quietly. "You want me to back off?"
"Enough I can think again." I paused. "For now."
"I make it hard to think?"
"You make it impossible."
"Oh, I am so getting that toaster oven," she said.
I laughed. "Not tonight. Moira-"
"It was a joke."
"I know. If you turn that into a goal, it's going to ruin our time together."
"I know. I am focusing on making sure we have a nice time. That's all."
She went back to holding my hand. I missed the stroking, but I was able to reengage my brain and dig through the information packets we'd been given.
After that, Moira kept things between us on a slow simmer. I don't think we spent more than a few seconds at a time where we weren't touching, but the touches were less distracting.
In the end, we learned to make several types of truffles, ending with a selection of truffles we'd made ourselves on our plates. I waited until Moira was distracted and stole one from her. When she turned back, I was slowly enjoying it. She looked between me, clearly enjoying her truffle, and her plate, counting the contents.
"Cheeky girl," she said quietly. "Are you going to pay for that one?"
"What do I get if you steal one from me?" I asked between nummy chocolaty bites.
"Stroking of any exposed skin I can find," she said.
I smiled. "You seemed to like the dark chocolate ones."
She smiled and stole one from me. We stared into each other's eyes while we ate or stolen truffles.
After that, we packaged up our remaining treats and thanked Mandy and the attendants for a fabulous class. Moira helped me resettle my pashmina over my shoulders, and we headed for her car, holding hands.
When we got to her car, I got in her way, stepping into her arms and laying my head on her shoulder.
She wrapped her arms around me.
"Hey," she said.
I squeezed her. "Thank you," I said.
We stood like that for a moment before I pulled away. She held me from pulling very far and lifted my chin. I knew she wanted to kiss me.
I turned my head away. "Not yet," I said. "Not in a parking ramp. This isn't what I want to remember as our first kiss."
She sighed. "You're right. I wasn't thinking."
I looked back at her. She looked a little unhappy.
"Maybe you can think of somewhere better." I paused. "It's too chilly tonight to go very far outside."
She smiled. "I was working on the assumption there would be a good night kiss on your front doorstep."
"That was my assumption," I agreed. I paused. "I don't want our first kiss to be in this ramp or parked in your car. Nor do I want an excessive audience."
She nodded, squeezed me once more, then opened my car door for me. I slipped in.
As soon as we were clear of the parking ramp, I slipped my hand over, setting it on her leg. She lowered her hand and placed it over mine for a moment before returning both hands to the wheel.
She took me home. I was slightly disappointed she hadn't come up with something more interesting but decided it was okay. We climbed out of the car, and she took my arm, leading to the door. I didn't turn to her when we got to the door but immediately unlocked it. I looked over at her. She was watching me carefully, perhaps judging my body language.
I spoke in a low voice. "Please come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"
She smiled. "Yes, I would."
I stepped inside and held the door for her, closing the door after she was inside. I set my shopping bag from Kitchen Window down and turned to her, shrugging so the pashmina dipped from my shoulders to college in the crooks of my arms. I stepped closer and looked up at her.
My heart was pounding as she stepped closer. From inches away we stared into each other's eyes, and I saw her swallow once. She reached up and caressed my cheek. I leaned my face into her hand, earning a smile.
Then she stepped closer, her other hand coming up to cup the back of my head. She had one hand on my chin and the other behind my head, and slowly she pulled my lips toward hers, lowering her head.
I leaned forward and closed my eyes.
Bidding War Page 6