6.5 | White Lilies
It was our fifth date. We kept hitting it off well with each other. Our chemistry was dynamic, the attraction mutual.
Terrence took me to a fancy restaurant that night, one of those posh places where you had to book a reservation. I watched him interact with the greeter, polite as always, and he took my hand as we followed him to our table after he checked for Terrence’s last name and grabbed our menus. There were three levels to the restaurant, all of which circled a dance floor in the middle. Classical music played in the background. A number of couples were slow dancing.
The greeter led us to our table and set the menus down. Terrence pulled out my chair for me and I blushed as I sat. The greeter repeated the same script to us as he had to everyone else he’s greeted before and then left. I was awestruck as I looked around. There was mood lighting, vines lining the railings and staircases and oil paintings that were hung smartly on the walls. It smelt heavenly and my mouth was watering.
“Your opinion?” Terrence asked and my attention focused back on him. There was a vase in the middle of the table filled with white lilies—my favourite kind of flowers. I began inspecting the other tables, noting how in place of white lilies were red roses.
“Why are we the only ones with lilies?” I asked then shook my head as I remembered to answer his question. “It’s breathtaking.”
“I’m friends with the guy who owns this place,” he told me.
“That’s really thoughtful,” I said, grinning as I licked my lips. Suddenly I was shy, peeking at him through my lashes. “I feel a little spoiled right now.”
“Good,” Terrence winked, reaching his hand out to me across the table. I placed mine in his and he kissed it before smoothing the back with his thumb. “Gotta’ keep you interested one way or another.”
It was a joke. Speechless, I laughed a little too hard.
The waiter came and greeted us with perfect etiquette. Terrence ordered a bottle of red wine in what sounded like botched Italian or French and we laughed as the waiter walked away. Even he cracked a smile. We were still laughing as we picked up our menus.
“Not my finest moment,” Terrence commented after a few seconds.
“Well to be fair I can’t pronounce half of what’s on the menu.”
“You say it like you’re the only one with that problem,” he teased. I laughed again.
We looked over the menus and the waiter came back at just the right time because we both already had decided what we wanted. The waiter popped the cork and poured us our glasses, setting the bottle down on the table once done. I took a sip and then Terrence took one. The wine is perfect, no complaints. We placed our orders, completely desecrating their names. Then it was just us again.
We talked and people-watched, commenting on what we witnessed without judgement. We did not criticize, just observed endearing and quirky moments then shared them with one another as we sipped our wine. We shared a few moments between ourselves and briefly I wondered if there were any couples that observed us without us knowing, too.
Our meals arrived and they looked exquisite. Terrence and I both threw our inhibitions to the wind as we devoured our plates. The food was spectacular, worth every penny and a generous tip as he would say. The choice in wine was perfect, too, complimenting our meals. There was still friendly banter between us but it slowed down while we ate.
By the time I was finished my plate I was stuffed and bloated. Terrence claimed to be in the same state as the waiter returned to take our plates, asking if we wanted dessert. Terrence and I weren’t much interested but when he said the special was New York Cheesecake we both relented and decided the suffering would be worth it. We ordered one piece to share.
We poured ourselves another glass of wine each and waited comfortably for the waiter to come back with our cheesecake. When he did return to our table I realized my eyes were bigger than my stomach but I promised myself I’d shove my face anyway. Cheesecake was a luxury.
Terrence and I both took tentative bites and it took us longer than it should have to finish our dessert. I couldn’t even drink any more wine but I still had the energy to dance for a little while. Terrence had made the offer earlier and I enthusiastically agreed. I loved dancing. I certainly was no master at it, however.
After everything was sorted and Terrence paid the bill he extended his hand to me over the table and I took it eagerly. We stood and he led me to the dancefloor. I couldn’t recognize the classical piece playing but it gave me chills anyway. It was the kind of melody that had the ability to haunt you long after hearing it for the first time.
Terrence placed his hand on my waist as I placed mine on his shoulder and then we clasped our remaining hands together in the air. We melted into one another, his warmth and hardened cock pressing into me. The tension was uncanny. We hadn’t had sex yet but it was clear we both wanted to.
We began to move in rhythm with the music, matching the beat of the other couples we weaved around. I was thankful I chose flats and a nice flowy dress. We did not stay in one place for too long which might have been disruptive if other couples hadn’t been doing the same thing. And although we were aware of them we paid no mind to them, just lost in each other. We maintained eye contact and said nothing, just enjoying the music and the atmosphere between us.
He spun me and I stumbled as I fell back into him. We resumed but my recovery was a little delayed. It didn’t matter. We had already revealed certain faults to one other and neither of us were discouraged. We danced through a few songs, couples ebbing and flowing on and off of the dance floor.
Just as a new song began to play Terrence leant down, kissing my temple as he whispered in my ear, “I think it’s time we get out of here. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I responded immediately. He pecked me on the lips and placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me off the dancefloor and back to the table. He scooped up the lilies from the vase and then we evacuated. We walked back to his car and he held the door open for me, giving me the lilies to hold for when he was driving.
Terrence got into the drivers seat and looked over at me.
“My place or yours?”
“Mine is closer.”
He leant over the armrest and kissed me fervently. It was intense, ardent.
“Yours it is.”
Off we went.
We have mind-numbing sex.
After all was done I collapsed onto his chest, both of us sweaty, naked and breathing heavily. Shockwaves rippled through my body, reminding me of how good I felt. Terrence’s heart pounded like a drum beneath my ear, hinting that he felt just as transcendent as I did. He wrapped his arms around me as I laid there and shut my eyes. My fingers traced his toned stomach, feeling the swells of muscle.
“You look so beautiful,” he said unexpectedly. I smiled, feeling anything but. My makeup was smeared and my hair was a mess.
“And you,” I reciprocated. We both laughed breathlessly.
“Hey, there’s something I’ve realized,” Terrence began. It didn’t sound urgent so I didn’t move, just made a sound for him to continue. “I’ve asked you many things about yourself but I’ve never asked you if you had any siblings. And yes, this may not be the wisest time to ask but I won’t be able to satiate my curiosity until I do.”
And at the time it was just curiosity. Innocent curiosity.
“Yes, I do have a sibling. A younger sister. And you?”
“Two younger brothers. Spencer is the youngest, Lawrence the middle child. I suppose that makes us both the eldest siblings.”
“Mmm,” I hummed in agreement. “I suppose it does. Which one is your favorite?”
“What makes you think I have a favorite sibling?”
“There must be a brother you get along with more, no? That doesn’t mean you love one more than the other. I’m not implying anything like that.”
“Okay, I understand,” he relented. He didn’t have to think before he answered. ”Lawrence. I get along better with him.”
“Why is that?”
“He has his head on his shoulders. He’s always been a tough kid. He’s smart. Rational. Unassuming but takes shit from no one. I respect him. I’ve always wanted to be more like him, I guess. It’s not a jealousy thing, just a bit of admiration. Nothing can change the fact that he is a good person at heart.”
“How about Spencer? Tell me a bit about him, if you’d like.”
“Spencer is a little...odd. He’s everything Lawrence isn’t which is not a drawback in itself but he’s problematic,” he stroked my back. “This is going to sound unflattering but he’s a lot more like me than I’d like to admit and we’ve had conflict over that. He has a big dog mentality. He loves to start trouble. He’s a rebel. At this point I’m not so certain it’s just a phase.”
“Does he look up to you?”
“As in...does he mimic my behavior?” I nodded. “He tries. But he can’t do things the same way a man my age can do them.”
“What kind of things?”
He ignored my question. The first whisper of trouble in paradise. I thought nothing of it.
“How about your younger sister?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“Blythe,” I introduced her name to him. “She’ll be fifteen soon but she’s an old soul trapped in a young body. She’s got her head on her shoulders, too. I wish I had been more like her at my age.”
“What were you like at her age?”
“Reckless and obsessed with boys like they would one day just drop off the face of the earth,” I laughed a bit, reminiscing my antics. “She’s got her nose buried in the books and she does good in school. A total bookworm. She likes the music from our parents eras. She’s also unassuming which many people mistake for naivety but I know her better than that. Blythe is not naïve.”
“Are you two close?”
“Oh, very. She is my best friend. We’ve never been the kind of siblings to clash. We’ve always gotten along well,” I licked my lips. “She has this...charisma to her, it’s hard to not get along with her. She has a zest for life that’s contagious. Everyone loves her.”
“Everyone must love you, too,” he commented.
“Oh, yes. I know I’m loved, I don’t doubt that for a second. It’s just that there’s something magnetic about Blythe and so everyone gravitates to her. It’s always been that way. She never asks for it to happen, it just does. She’s always been the favorite since she came into the picture.”
“Does that make you jealous?”
I shook my head against his chest.
I glanced over at the white lilies strewn across my nightstand. We were in too much of a rush to grab a vase for them.
“Because I am her favorite.”