Even before I had finished unwrapping the package, I was pretty confident that this was going to be a huge step up from last years trip to a Canucks game, complete with my ex’s name on the back of the jersey he gave me.
While I love watching jacked guys in tight hockey shorts as much as the next girl, it was a nice change to have a guy think about what I might actually want for once.
As the wrapping paper fell away, I found myself face-to-face with every girl’s favourite little blue box for the first time in my deprived, under-indulged, life.
Glancing up at Jonathan with a look of astonishment on my face, I opened up the box and slowly pulled out a gorgeous white gold necklace with a sterling silver pendant that looked similar to a hollowed out yin and yang symbol. On closer inspection, I noticed that it even had a small diamond imbedded in the middle of one of the swirls.
“You know, you were already way ahead of the curve with the shoe design idea. You really didn’t need to get me anything else, but thank you, this is beautiful,” I responded softly, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed as Jonathan slipped it around my neck and kissed me tenderly.
“Well, if I mess up somewhere down the road, it’s best if I’ve accumulated some relationship capital along the way, right?” he replied cheerfully, his arms wrapped around me as I buried my head against him while I tried my best to regain my composure.
At some point I’m going to have to find out who trained this guy and send her a thank you card. Better yet, I need to find out what her teaching methodology was because all of the pupils that had graduated from my classroom had received failing grades.
“Don’t get too comfortable just yet. We’ve still got to chat about your constant need to be right on time every time I see you. That might not fly with me long term mister,” I countered, doing my best to keep the conversation light and playful.
I imagine that any water works I produced right after getting such an exquisite present could be severely misinterpreted and I was still way too excited about designing my shoes to delay things by having to re-apply my mascara.
“Hmm, well, we are almost going to be late for your shoe design session if that makes you feel better?”
“Okay, in the car, now!” I retorted cheekily, pointing animatedly towards the driver’s seat before getting my own butt in gear.
Well played Mr. Hunter. Andiamo! World, get ready for Anagram shoes!
A woman can carry a bag, but it is the shoe that carries the woman – Christian Louboutin
38. After an agonizing ten minute drive during which the level of anticipation had me practically bouncing off the roof of Jonathan’s car, we finally pulled to a halt in front of a funky, modern, two storey on West Fourth Avenue.
Upon entering, we were greeted at the door by a dapper Italian gentleman, likely somewhere north of 50, but with a visible spring in his step as he ushered us inside whilst amiably chatting with us.
“You must be Anna,” he noted with a smile as he warmly shook hands with each of us.
“My name is Ermanno and I’ll be assisting you with the design process today. I’ve been told by Jonathan that you have been doing some research in preparation?”
Are you kidding me? I’ve been preparing for this moment since the first time I tried on a pair of my mum’s pumps, teetered precariously towards a mirror, and looked down in awe at the transformation that my feet had undergone.
“Well, I might have jotted down a couple of ideas that I thought could be fun,” I replied modestly, tightly clutching my sketch book and print outs.
“Excellent! It’s always helpful if a client has a few ideas about what he or she might want ahead of time. The choices can be a bit overwhelming otherwise. Why don’t we sit down and take a look at what you brought with you,” Ermanno continued encouragingly as he guided us into a cozy sitting room with what appeared to be samples of every possible shoe type imaginable stored neatly on an array of shelves built into the walls of the room.
Beyonce’s ‘New Shoes’ was playing in my head as I slowly twirled around the room in wonderment, letting my gaze wander as I took in all of the magnificent sights.
As I finally sat down at a circular table covered with binder upon binder of shoe designs, I couldn’t help wondering to myself if this is what the closets in heaven might look like.
After several blissful hours of wading through designs, samples and fabrics, all of which seemed to flash by in an instant, Ermanno and I were convinced that we had captured the essence of what I was looking for.
We had decided on a black suede heel with gold accents based on a gorgeous Ralph Lauren design, but I had designed the straps and the lower cage myself, based on my own sketches and samples that Ermanno had provided.
The shoe itself would be based on an exact mould of my foot and ankle for a perfect, painless fit.
By the time we had completed the process and I was staring at a sketch of our finished product on Ermanno’s iPad, I was convinced that it would really be in Ralph’s best interest to drop me a line about having me help him craft his 2015 line.
As we moved on to the next step of the process which was creating a mould of my foot by essentially dipping my foot in a vat of thick goo, I couldn’t help thinking that Cinderella got off awfully easy with her fairy Godmother just waiving her wand around.
This was more like bibbidi bobbidi goo.
Once Ermanno had finally completed the mould, he disappeared into another room to let it set and he left Jonathan and I with a bucket of warm water and soap to wash off my leg.
Thankfully, Jonathan took the lead; gently soaping my legs as his strong hands massaged my aching calves. After a few passes down my legs, the warm, moist cloth somewhat unexpectedly started to glide a bit further north and I quickly realized that perhaps this goo had its advantages after all.
“It feels like quite a sticky situation that I’ve got going down there,” I mumbled as I silently commended myself for having had the foresight to wear a skirt for our excursion.
“It’s certainly starting to feel that way,” Jonathan countered, grinning up at me as his hand continued its steady climb north.
“I might have to get you pretty moist to properly remedy this issue” he continued playfully, as his fingers reached their destination.
“Whatever it takes to get the job done, I’m in your hands. But it feels like you’re doing a pretty good job of handling things so far,” I replied huskily, my breath coming a bit quicker as I arched my back.
Then, out of nowhere, Ermanno rapped on the door. “How are things coming along?” he inquired, politely.
“It’s going quite well. I’m almost done!” I replied, with far more enthusiasm than I had originally intended.
“Please let me know if I can be of assistance,” he responded, oblivious to the irony of his offer coming at that particular moment.
“Thanks, but Jonathan’s doing an excellent job for now. Should just be another minute or so,” I replied, desperately attempting to modulate my voice as Jonathan’s fingers continued to masterfully massage me.
“Or sooner,” I moaned softly under my breath, clenching my hands into fists involuntarily as my muscles started to contract and spasm; a warm wave of endorphins enveloping my body as I grabbed Jonathan’s hand and held it firmly against me.
“All things considered, this has definitely been one of my best birthday presents so far,” I noted a few moments later, after I’d had a chance to catch my breath.
“I do aim to please,” Jonathan replied with a grin as he lifted me skyward for a long kiss that left me lightheaded.
After I had properly cleaned myself up, we made our way back to the reception area where Ermanno walked us through the timeline for completing the shoes and booked me in for a final fitting and delivery.
As he walked as to the door, he asked innocently, “Was the experience everything you had hoped for?”
“I think I can honestly say that it was everything that I was hoping for an
d even a little bit more,” I replied ecstatically, as I gave Jonathan’s hand a squeeze.
Definitely my best birthday present ever!
He was a bold man that first ate an oyster – Jonathan Swift
39. After we left Ermanno’s shop, I parked myself in Jonathan’s car with a contented sigh, basking in the warm afterglow of the shoe design experience and other related activities as he whisked us off to dinner.
“I hope that with all the excitement you managed to work up an appetite for dinner,” Jonathan said, as he grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze.
I had certainly worked up a hunger for something, but it was only tangentially related to anything I might want to eat.
“I can’t deny that there is a certain hunger that’s been building up inside me,” I replied, shooting him a coy smile and letting him interpret it as he wished.
“You don’t say? Hopefully I can take care of that for you pretty soon. I would hate to leave you wanting for anything on your birthday,” Jonathan replied, feigning innocence.
Fifteen minutes later we arrived outside a cute little restaurant overlooking the harbour at Horseshoe Bay.
Not that I’m a big believer in serendipity (okay, maybe just a little bit) but, as we strolled inside, arm in arm, I discovered that we just so happened to be dining at an oyster bar that night.
How very appropriate…
As we were being seated at our table, I made sure that I discretely placed myself as far away from the candle as possible.
Two incidents and maybe you can write it off as just being unlucky and/or a little klutzy. But three times and restaurants might start putting posters of me up in their windows.
After our wine had arrived, Jonathan raised his glass to me, saying, “Here’s to your parents for raising an incredible woman. I’m totally indebted to them for their work. And to you Anna; not only do I go home with pain in my cheeks from laughing so hard every time that I’m with you, but you’re also living proof that age is just a number,” he concluded, his eyes shimmering vibrantly in the candlelight as he spoke.
I was sure that he was blatantly lying about that last part, but he had managed to make it all sound sincere and it was a pretty nice to hear on one’s b-day; white lie or not.
Thank goodness we were just on our first glass of wine when he said it though, because I had been having a bit of trouble holding it together while he had been speaking.
Why is it that celebrating my birth only seems to remind me that I’m yet another year closer to the grand finale? I really think that the only time a girl should be reminded of her age is when something amazing happens in her life.
For instance: “Wow, you just married the man of your dreams and you’re only 31!”
Totally acceptable.
Or: “What adorable twins; such a perfect thirty-third birthday present!”
You’ve got twins; your age, and pretty much everything else in the world, is now irrelevant.
However: “Hey, you’re a decade older with absolutely nothing to show for it. Let’s go celebrate!”
Far less pleasant.
That being said, Jonathan had done pretty much everything one could ask to make today bearable and then some, so I decided to focus my attention on that instead.
“I hope you’re a fan of oysters. I haven’t been here before but I’ve heard great things about the food,” Jonathan mentioned, as we perused the menu.
“I’ve only had them a couple of times before to be honest, but I’m in the perfect mood to try them again,” I responded, as I overtly ran my toes up the inside of his leg.
“That Buck-a-Shuck mystery oyster special sounds dangerous,” Jonathan replied, as he responded in kind; his foot meandering discretely up the back of my calf under the cover of the table cloth.
“Yes, I don’t think I want to be putting anything raw in my mouth unless I knew where it was coming from. But are you interested in tasting the Fanny Bottom Bay? The menu says it has a smooth texture and a sweet finish. The description alone is whetting my appetite,” I retorted as my foot climbed higher, causing Jonathan to inhale sharply and briefly close his eyes.
“That might go well with a serving of Ram Island. Its size plays a role in its appeal as it’s supposedly an enormous muscle,” he countered, lowering his menu to grin mischievously at me as he drew two of his toes down the back of my thigh, sending shivers down my spine.
“Well, it’s really all about whether or not it can satisfy my hunger and hit the right spot…on my palate, but if it can, then I suppose the bigger the better, right?”
My well timed pause had come just as my toes had reached their mark, causing Jonathan to noticeably squirm in his chair as our waiter approached.
“So, have the two of you had a chance to decide what you’re in the mood for tonight?” he inquired, benignly.
“I think we know what direction we’re heading in at least,” Jonathan replied, keeping his expression stoic.
“Yes, I’m in the mood for a serving of Ram Island and I believe he’ll be trying out the Fanny Bottom Bay,” I replied, as I attempted, with less success that I would have liked, to keep a straight face.
After our waiter had left with our orders, I excused myself to freshen up a bit as the ordeal of ordering had left me a feeling a bit hot under the collar.
And perhaps a few other places as well…
Our oysters had already arrived by the time I made my way back to the table and, between all of our banter and the rest of the day’s events; we had each apparently worked up quite a healthy appetite as we both dove in to our plates.
“Wow, the description in the menu wasn’t wrong. These definitely are a mouthful,” I noted after gulping down what was indeed a very large oyster.
Hmm, it was tasty enough but is it normal for oysters to smell like this? Well, I suppose it is seafood after all…
“It doesn’t look like the size is causing you any issues though,” Jonathan replied with a wry grin spread across his face.
“Aren’t you a saucy boy today Mr. Hunter. Speaking of sauce, how is the Fanny Bottom Bay treating you? Is the finish everything you were hoping for?”
“The finish is very satisfying thanks, and it’s gratifying to know that you take such a keen interest in that sort of thing,” Jonathan countered, pausing momentarily before he continued, “So, I haven’t had a lot of experience with oysters, but do you notice a bit of an odd smell coming emanating from yours?” he inquired, as we each took a whiff of our plates.
“I’m not really a seafood connoisseur either, but mine do smell a bit funky,” I responded as I struggled to fight off a nervous twinge in my nether regions. “But I guess a lot of seafood does normally have a bit of an aroma to it, right?” I asked with an optimistic smile as I gazed at him, hoping for a bit of reassurance but only getting a nervous eyebrow raise in return.
We both hesitantly continued on with the meal but we managed to make it through desert without feeling any ill effects and, by that point, I had assumed that oysters must just generally smell a bit fishy.
Things were progressing nicely on the drive home as we were flirting non-stop and stealing quick kisses at every red light while Jonathan’s hand did a slow climb up my thigh.
Having almost arrived back at my apartment, I was about to invite Jonathan upstairs for a drink when I felt an urgent rumbling in my lower intestines that almost immediately had my skin glistening with sweat.
Looking up at Jonathan with a pained expression on my face, I asked “Do you remember how we thought those oysters might have been a little bit off?
Good Vibrations Page 16