Naked in front of my clothed sister.
I took a stab in the hopes of repairing my devestated ego - I asked her where in California was she from?
She was quick. She pointed out that she never said she was from California. And I pointed out her accent (my ace in the hole). She trumped me, telling me she was from Colorado, but now lives in Los Angeles (she said "L.A.", but I've never been comfortable with using the initials).
We chatted more. I remained thoroughly off balance. Then opportunity presented itself. The assistant friend announced she had to go to bed. The beauty decided to stay.
In truth I should have been going to bed too, but under the circumstances, wasn't entirely sure I could stand without doing damage.
We continued the small talk, and I was breathing easier without others in on the conversation.
I was impressed. She knew how to talk. She had things to talk about. While I was upset with myself for talking like a moron, I took some solace in the fact that I hadn't talked like an asshole.
I finally got the courage to suggest it was time we both got some sleep. I did not want to part, but we quiet men sometimes realize that life sometimes requires commitments that interfere with pleasure.
We walked to the elevator together. On it I asked her to dinner the next night. It was a no-lose gamble. If she said "no", I wouldn't be seeing her ever again anyway. I expected that answer as she had her assistant with her, and I guessed it was clear that the invitation did not include her.
To my surprise, she smiled and agreed. I ended the evening asking her if she'd now tell me who she was or what her name was. She giggled as she got off the elevator and said meet me by the lounge at 7.
So there I was with an apparent date for the next evening with someone who I was supposed to know, but didn't, and whose name I had no idea.
I went back to my room.
The message light was flashing on the telephone. I retrieved it. It went something like this: "hahahahahahahahaha". It was Bill.
I woke up the next morning with a mild headache and took on the task of convincing myself that she wouldn't show. It was an all day task.
At 7:10 in the evening I figured I was right. I wasn't.
Shortly after, her assistant came down and came over to me and told me she'd be down soon. I offered to by her a drink, and she declined. I pleaded, telling her I need to get some information out of her. She laughed and left.
The beauty made it down by 7:30. Her style of dress had me revising my guess of her age downward. Her clothes were expensive, but blatantly sexy. There's no need for the details.
For so many reasons, I wanted to impress her. I was perhaps 10 or more years older than her. And I certainly couldn't appear in any magazines. My only consolation was that last evening's conversation proved she was more than just eye candy.
I had the concierge call the restaurant I had chosen - Italian Village (2nd floor) - to make a quick reservation. We'd be there in 20 minutes. I had him take my car out of the garage too. I almost always take taxis in Chicago, and I don't always have my car there. But I admit I wanted to impress that evening, and a taxi didn't compare.
We ate. We got along well. I wondered to myself how she could be so thin but consume so much food. Occasionally, I'd think about how old she was and made a revised guess of 26.
She said she really liked the fact that this was the first time she was out with a guy who didn't know her. She thought it was "great" that I didn't know her name.
I told her that I felt like an idiot. She made some smart alec comment about how it was good for men to know their place.
She conversed as a woman who was young, but also very bright. She carried herself off better than I. I, too often, would lose my train of thought as I looked at her.
Everything that evening was delicious.
We returned to the hotel.