The creamy white candle flickered in its round glass votive holder on the low coffee table. Two glasses of red wine sat beside the jasmine scented votive – one full; one half empty.
He was late. Thirteen minutes late.
Fidgeting restlessly, she tugged at the hem of her little black dress then adjusted the deep neckline, pulling the dress down to reveal more of her cleavage, conscious that she had a photo to live up to. For the fiftieth time, she re-read their message chain from earlier in the day to reassure herself that he was definitely coming.
It would be the first time they would actually meet face to face. Since they’d met online thirteen days before, they had messaged each other constantly. They had exchanged photos. They had talked on the phone late into the night.
He was late. Twenty-six minutes late.
Lifting her glass, she took another mouthful of cabernet sauvignon then sat down on the couch, stretching her long, bare, slender legs out in front of her. Her heart was pounding. Where was he? Why was he late? Why hadn’t he called or messaged her? What if he’d changed his mind? Imagining all sorts of scenarios, she watched the time tick by……
He was late. Thirty-nine minutes late
The doorbell chimed.
Taking a deep breath, she got up from the settee. She checked her dress was sitting properly then walked slowly in her stiletto heels to the front door. With her heart pounding, she reached to open the door.
There he was. All six foot two of him. Tall, muscled, close cut hair. He was holding a bunch of red roses and a bottle of wine. He smiled; her heart skipped a beat.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologised as he stepped into the hall. “I got held up at work.”
“I was getting worried. You could’ve called.”
“Sorry. Phone’s flat.”
Together they entered the candlelit lounge. An awkward silence hung in the air as they stood face to face for the first time. He towered over her. His grey/blue eyes looked her up and down, slowly undressing her as a small smile formed at his lips.
“You look amazing,” he complimented, presenting her with the flowers and wine. “These are for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll just pop them in some water,” she replied, inhaling the heady perfume of the blood red roses. “Take your jacket off. Make yourself at home. There’s a wine for you on the table.”
As she stood at the sink, filling her only vase with cold water, her hands were trembling. He was here. He was as hot as his profile pictures had led her to believe. He was everything she had imagined and then some.
When she returned to the living room, he’d taken off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. Sitting on the couch, she could see the outlines of his tattoos through his crisp white shirt.
“Will I put some music on?” she suggested, trying to sound calmly confident.
“Sounds good,” he agreed as he lifted the full glass of wine.
Within a moment or two, she had plugged her phone into the speaker and had one of her favourite Spotify playlists playing. Smiling at him, she crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch.
“So, how was your day?” she enquired as she lifted her own glass to her lips.
He was here. Thirteen minutes after he arrived they were deep in conversation.
Three songs later, he set his glass down, took hers from her and said, “Let’s dance.”
No one had ever asked her to dance in her own living room.
“Here. Now,” he repeated, taking her hand.
He was here. Twenty-six minutes after he arrived they were dancing a slow dance in the middle of the living room.
As the last notes of her favourite song faded out, he bent down and began to kiss her. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he drew her towards him. She could smell the exotic spice of his aftershave. Lifting her hair back, he slowly and sensually kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear. She moaned softly as he ran the tip of his tongue down her neck. Teasingly he ran his tongue along the length of her collar bone then resume kissing her hard on the lips. She could feel his tongue forcing her lips as he kissed her harder. As she parted her lips a little further she felt him bite the inside of her lower lip hard. The fresh ferrous taste of blood filled her mouth as he continued to kiss her. Putty in his hands, she became aware of a tell-tale twitch deep inside her. Suddenly she felt wet and ready for him to take her right there on the living room floor. From the bulge in his jeans that was pressing into her, he was experiencing the same desires. Her mind began to fantasise over what would happen next. Was he as long and hard as she hoped? She felt his hand cup her breast firmly then felt the pressure of his thumb as it moved in a circular rhythm. Through the fabric of her dress and padding of her bra, she knew her pierced nipples were erect.
Oh, she could surrender herself to this guy in a heartbeat.
He moved his hand from the base of her spine and, before she had time to wonder where he was going to caress her next, she felt a fiery hot pain thrust up through her ribcage. She felt the coolness of the sharp blade as it plunged deep inside her. She felt her own warm blood flow freely to soak the silky fabric of her little black dress. Around her, the living room began to fade out.
He was gone. Thirty-nine minutes after he’d arrived she lay dead on the floor, stabbed through her romantic heart.
The candle flickered and guttered as the flame died.