2

12 hours ago

"I CAN'T believe they're making me do this," I fix my hair for the hundredth time that night, and look at myself in the rearview mirror, "it's just a date, Xiomara. You once liked dates."

I haven't been having the best luck with dating. After my daughters decided to sign me up for a dating site, me reluctantly agreeing, they chose some woman for me to meet. They said that it would be spontaneous of me for once in my life. I don't even know what she looks like, but I know that my daughters would choose someone appropriate. God, I hope that they didn't set me up with a grandmother.

Getting out of the car, I head into the restaurant, and look around. We agreed to use a reservation, so a waiter or waitress will show me to the table where she is. I only see a couple in the restaurant, no one else. Realizing that I'm early, I grab a seat at the bar, and order a drink.

"Waiting for someone?" The bartender asks, and receives a nod. The orange and blue highlights in his hair, including the many piercings on his face, reminds me of my youngest son.

"That obvious, huh?"

He shrugs, looking around. I tap my fingers against the stem of my wine glass, as I look at the artwork lined off on the walls. It's a great LGBT+ friendly restaurant and bar that I'm in, one that I've always loved to take my children to. How I ended up there for a date at that same place? Well, I didn't know where else to choose, and my daughters thought that it's appropriate, in case the person I meet turns out to be a wacko.

"You're never here alone, so yeah, meeting someone?" He asks for confirmation.

"Blind date actually, not my choice."

The bartender smiles, and heads off to tend to another customer, while I sit in agony. What am I doing? I shouldn't be dating. I should be focusing on work, and my pregnant daughter. Fuck, I'm going to be a grandmother soon.

I don't even give a second glance to the tall brunette who walks past me beside a waiter, and towards a table. I look at the door with a heavy sigh. Where's my frickin' date?

Finishing my glass of wine, I order another, and look over the unoccupied seats in the restaurant. When I notice the waiter walking over to me, I wonder if he knows where my date is.

"Reservation for Xiomara?" I nod, "your date's over there," he points and I let out a deep breath. Without looking, I follow him, afraid to look at the person who I'll share a table with. What if she's not my type? What if she's a big, old cunt?

As I sit, I finally look into mesmerizing blue eyes. Fuck, am I at the wrong table?

"Xiomara?" The young girl asks, making me involuntarily nod. I'm on a date with her? In what universe do my kids think this is appropriate?

I place my wine glass, and phone onto the table. If not anything else, she's gorgeous. My eyes drop to her pink, puffy lips. Damn, those look succulent.

The girl smiles, and twirls her fingers around her own wine glass. At least she's old enough to drink.

"Yeah, you're Bethany?"

She nods, making me swallow. I'm like thrice your age! Okay, maybe not that much, but still!

"You seem uncomfortable. Expected someone else?"

I press my lips together, cursing myself under my breath, "actually," I close my eyes, and take a deep inhale. This isn't what I signed up for. I can't go through with this. Opening my handbag, I grab my wallet, and take out a fifty dollar bill, "I need to go," I rest the money onto the table, and get up, looking at her confused eyes. She probably thinks that I'm an asshole.

"Okay?" I sense her confusion, but I can't stay. Giving her a forced smile, I turn and head for the exit. If God's looking down at me, he's probably laughing. Getting into my car, I hold onto the steering wheel, and lean my head against it. I just humiliated myself, didn't I? I'm finally ready to give my daughters a peace of my mind on the way home, but can't find my phone. Fuck, I left it on the table. Slamming my hand against the steering wheel, I groan and get out of my car. When I reenter the restaurant, the girl's still there, and looking at me with my phone in her hand. I bite down on my bottom lip, and almost wobble over to her, my legs feeling like jelly. She's too fucking beautiful to be on a date with me. I'll just get my phone, and run for the hills, "at least finish your drink," her tone is so soft, as she places the phone in front of her. I look down at my phone on the table, unable to hold eye contact with her.

"I really should go," I explain, stretching for my phone, but she places her hand over it, stopping me.

"It's not a date unless you want it to be. We're just two people having a drink, that's all," my eyes meet hers, and I gulp. What's she trying to achieve here? "Oh, come on, I don't bite."

I slacken my shoulders in defeat, and sit down. She slides my phone over to me, and calls the waiter for another round. I don't intend to drink the wine that I left behind anyway.

"Anything else?" The waiter asks, and I shake my head. He walks away, and she looks teasingly at me, or am I just delusional? Why would she look at me like that? I must be driving insane.

"My age is on my profile," she points out, making my eyes narrow. I'm going to give my daughters a lecture when they come over tomorrow.

"Yeah, well, my kids might have handled all of that. I just showed up," she smiles amusingly. She probably thinks that I'm weird already. Just send me away, beautiful girl. I probably am weirder than you think.

"Kids, huh? How many?"

I look at the glass of wine that the waiter rests in front of me. She isn't running for the hills yet? I just told you that I'm a mother!

"Four," I answer with furrowed brows, "two girls and two boys," I add, as I trace my fingers around the rim of my glass, trying to rid of all the thoughts inside of my head.

"That's nice. I have a two year old boy," I take a prolonged sip of my wine, wondering if she's bisexual or realized that she's gay after the birth of her child, "he's adopted."

Well, that doesn't answer any of my questions. I take a deep breath, and seal my lips around the rim of my glass. The alcohol immediately rushes through my veins, easing some of my tension.

"My kids aren't adopted," why does that sound harsh? Sometimes my tone is too serious.

"I see. So you've been married or no?"

I clear my throat, feeling anxiety rise within me at the thought of my ex-wife, "her and I parted nine years ago," she looks at me in surprise, probably wondering who's shaft gave me kids, "we used sperm donors."

She nods and runs the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. Holy shit, that's so sexy. I wonder how her tongue would feel on my... no, Xiomara. No dirty thoughts, no matter how gorgeous she is.

"Why did you get a divorce?"

Now, that's something that I will not talk about.

"How old are you?" I divert the topic, not wanting to focus on myself. She leans back with her wine glass in hand.

"How old are you, Xiomara?" She mimics, causing me to frown. Seriously, hun, I really want to know your age. Did I just refer to her sweetly in my mind? God, help me.

"I asked first," my answer makes her grin. Her perfect, white teeth makes my heart stop for a moment. Jesus, save me from embarrassing myself this precious night, because I feel as though every word that slips out of my mouth sounds foolish, "I'm old, too old," I sigh and look down at the fifty dollar bill that's still on the table.

Scrunching up my nose, I bite down on the inside of my cheek, and move my eyes over to her side of the table, only to see perfectly painted red nails. Wow, those are hot. Is she wearing fuck me heels tonight? I'm not sure, since I didn't get a good look at her while she's standing.

"You're too funny," she stretches her hand over, and lifts my chin with the arch of her index finger, causing a blush to immediately invade my cheeks, "tell me more about your kids then."

"Uh," looking into her eyes makes me so anxious. I've never acted so shyly before. What's wrong with me? I'm around young girls all day at work, what's the difference here? Oh, right, I'm technically on a date with her, even though she said it doesn't have to be one, "the eldest is married," and pregnant, but I'll leave that out, "she and her sister, who's the youngest, just opened a bakery," I smile proudly.

"And the other two?" Her finger slips away, making my jaw drop. She giggles and tilts her head to the side, as I compose myself.

"Both are in college. My youngest doesn't want to," and I'm not going to force her.

"And their names? My son's Blue," Blue? Who names their kid after a color? I recite the name in my head a few times. It's a pretty name though, especially for a little boy. I wonder what's going to happen when he gets older. I doubt a teenager would want to be named Blue.

"Mary, Jane, Ethan and Christopher," why is she so interested in all of this?

"Lovely names," she comments, as she sips her wine. I lean back, and take a breath, as my eyes travel over the slope of her neck. She's model beautiful, and not just the skinny kind. She's got the perfect appearance to go with it. Not much photoshop would be needed, "you're staring, again."

The smile on her face makes my eyes widen. She's noticed this entire time? And when I think I'm subtle about it, "now, I'm truly horrified."

"I'll be back," she notifies, "don't go running off again, okay?" I nod silently, as I watch her head to the ladies' room. Is she doing this on purpose? So that I'll see that she's actually wearing those red heels! And she even has a nice butt to go with it.

I sit back, and place my hand over my chest. I want to make a run for it, but something is stopping me. Maybe it's guilt, or I actually am fascinated with her. Of course you're fascinated with her, Xiomara. She's young, hot and her personality isn't too bad. She's got the suave that has my skin tingling, including other places. I sigh and order another round for us. I then send a text to Mary, showing my outrage, before throwing my phone into my bag for the night.

When Bethany gets back, my heart races. The crop top that she's wearing is doing things to my body that I will not describe.

"I ordered another round," I say. She sits and brushes her long hair behind her shoulders.

"I'm glad you're still here. Kinda expected you to disappear," I frown, as she stares intently into my eyes. It makes me so self-conscious, that I have to look away, "hungry? I hear they have the best spaghetti and meatballs."

"I favor their filet mignon more," I raise my hand to the waiter, and he walks over, "can we have the menus?" He nods and goes to get them.

"Come here a lot?" She asks, pulling on the silver of her necklace.

"Yeah, sometimes," I mutter, being vague unnecessarily, "tell me more about your kid," I decide to ask, trying to focus the conversation on her again.

"He's stumbling as he walks, and is learning his alphabet and numbers," I remember my kids as toddlers. They were a handful.

"Potty trained?"

She giggles and nods, "perfect thing to ask at a restaurant," she crosses her arms over her chest, as I finish my third glass of wine.

"Motherhood, I tell ya," she continues to laugh, the sound making my heart swell, "so you do know how old I am from the dating site," she nods, "and you still came?"

"I like older women," she shrugs and holds onto the stem of her glass, as she leans forward, "young girls just don't turn me on the same."

My knees tighten. My, oh my, she's looking for a cougar. I'm not a cougar! I've never been with someone more than five years younger than me, yet I'm still sitting here, on this not so date.

"And this is from experience?" I ask.

She thinks for a moment, before answering, "I've dated girls in high school, and that didn't work out. I dated girls in college, same goes. Then I had this one night stand with an older woman, and it just felt more right than any of those relationships. Imagine if I actually date an older woman."

I swallow, as her eyes travel over my face, and over the excessive amount of cleavage that the low-cut blouse allows. I inhale a deep breath, as my chest tightens.

"So you're looking for a cougar?"

She hums and shrugs, "I don't like to label it. I'm looking for someone that I'm compatible with, that's all."

I notice her eyes constantly moving over my torso. Is she turned on by me? This girl needs to meet people, if she's attracted to a middle aged woman with four kids!

"One woman can't mean that you're meant to be with an older woman," I point out, as her teeth sinks into her bottom lip.

"It's worth a try, I mean, what harm could it do? I'm of consensual age, aren't I?" Hopefully... Is she propositioning me? Why does it feel like she wants to get into my pants, and have her way with me? The lust in her voice is actually there, right? Or am I still being delusional?

"I'm forty-eight," I remind, trying to maybe steer her away, but at the same time, I probably want the same thing that my delusional self thinks she wants.

"Yeah, I already know that," she sighs and removes her eyes from mine, as we're handed menus by the waiter.

"I still don't know yours," I mumble, as I look through my menu.

"I'm twenty-five, Xiomara," I drop my menu onto the table, and look intently at her. Yeah, she looks about that. Damn, she's the same age as my oldest.

"Oh," is all I can say, as the waiter comes over to take our orders. After he leaves, I press my lips together, and lean back. Twenty-three years age difference, damn.

"I'm not even twice your age," I grit my teeth, realizing that I voiced my thoughts without realizing it, "this isn't a date, right? So why worry?"

Why does that hurt just a little bit? Isn't it what I want? For this not to be a date? Geez, I'm sounding like a hormonal, indecisive teenager. How attractive of me, ugh.

"Yeah," I rub the back of my neck with the palm of my hand. Her eyes look like the deep end of an ocean, where I can drown if I couldn't swim. And ironically enough, I don't know how to swim, "I'm just that weird to be around," I mutter, inhaling a breath, and exhaling slowly.

"You're not weird, just nervous. I make you nervous, I can tell," she places her arms on the table, and leans forward. I can almost feel her hot breath against my cheek, tempting me to pull her in, to taste her enticing lips.

"Uh, no?" I'm not even convincing myself. Her hand covers mine, as I grip the stem of my glass with my other hand, "I'm just—"

"Scared?"

I shake my head, "tempted," I whisper, hoping that she doesn't hear me. But she does. And the smile that graces her face makes me not regret it.

"Hm, interesting," she sits back, causing my breath to finally leave my throat. Fuck, she's so intoxicating. I can't breathe when she's so near.

"Let's just enjoy the wine and food. No strings attached," I cross my ankles, as I settle my breathing. I can tell that she knows the effect that she has on me. She probably knows the effect that she has on everyone.

"Okay, I'd like that," my voice is so low, that I can barely hear myself. But she still hears each and every word. Is she listening that intently when I say something? Is she that interested?

When our orders arrive, I've probably had about seven glasses of wine already. I need the liquid courage to get me through the night, and it's actually helping.

"This is amazing," she compliments, as she slowly eats a meatball. I smile, as I admire her etiquette, and that alone is a huge turn on for me. By the end of my eight glass of wine, my nerves are twitching, as each and every word slips through her lips. I'm going to have to take out the ole' vibrator when I get home, if this keeps up.

I wonder why she isn't wearing red lipstick to go with her nails and shoes. Maybe she just doesn't want the worry, since her lips are perfect regardless.

"Are you still in college?" I ask.

She wipes her lips with a napkin, "no, I graduated with my Bachelor's already, but I'm currently working," that's pretty vague.

"Where do you work?"

She sighs and looks up from her plate. I can see sudden distress invade her eyes, dulling them a bit, "I just did a bikini photoshoot for a magazine, that's how great my life's going right now," I bite down on my bottom lip. I need to get a copy of that magazine!

"Model?"

"No, I'm just taking jobs to put food on the table. But I'm an actress. Even though I'm only propositioned for porn and playboys," I end up laughing, but not on purpose. She frowns at me, making me place my hand over my mouth to stop myself.

"Sorry," I mumble, reaching over for her hand. How bold of me, huh? "You're beautiful, you'll find loads of companies wanting to hire you."

"Loads of companies want to hire me already... for porn," she's trying to make me laugh now? We both chuckle, and I retract my hand.

"Not every beautiful woman is asked to do porn, you're just applying at the wrong places."

"You seem to be an expert."

Actually, I've been in the film business for over twenty years, "just that you should apply at more substantial companies. If the application says, must have a rockin' body, then you should know it's porn."

She raises her brows and nods, "I figured that out along the way already actually," she takes a breath, and runs the pad of her index finger along the rim of her glass.

"Here," I grab a pen, and my mini notebook from my handbag. After writing down my company's name and information, I tear out the page, and hand it to her, "send a portfolio to this email."

She furrows her brows, and looks at it, "I've applied here before," she sounds defeated. Maybe it's all the alcohol that I've consumed, but I really want to help her.

"Give it another shot. I'll put in a word for you," I'll have to talk to Anderson.

"Uh, okay?" She seems hesitant, probably wondering how I could be helpful.

"I'm a film director, so—"

"Wow, that definitely wasn't on your profile," she grins and tucks the paper safely into a pocket of her purse.

"Yeah," my eyes drop to her lips once again, "you know the show Harriot's Place?" She nods immediately with widened eyes, "I work on that show."

"Damn, my aunt loves that show," she cheekily smiles, "and thank you, it means a lot," her eyes flutter, as her jaw twitches. She seems a bit intimidated by me now, which I didn't intend.

"I know talent when I see it," as if, you're too drunk to know your left hand from your right one, right now, "we're adding a few new cast members, and I think you might fit perfectly as Kali's younger sister."

"They're bringing the sister to the show?" She beams and I nod, "the openly lesbian sister?" I could see that she's becoming extremely excited.

"You think you can handle a role like that?" She better be a good actress, cause I hate carrying out auditions.

"Yes, yes, of course. I've done plays, and have been casted in several movies and commercials."

"And yet you're taking jobs to make ends meet?"

She exhaled a breath, "I'm debt free. No students loans or credit card debt," she shrugs. Now that's something. It must be nice. I was forty and still paying off my student loans.

"Anything I might have seen before?"  I ask.

She picks up her phone, and looks for something, "just small stuff, nothing too popular. And with all the makeup they pack on my face, I look like a different person sometimes," she shows me a picture of her sporting a Joho Apparel outfit. She looks gorgeous, and the picture definitely looks like her.

"Okay, enough business talk, tell me something interesting about yourself."

She seems surprised that I casually want to strike up a conversation, "I sing for weddings and birthday parties," she's got a great voice too? What doesn't this girl have?

"Now you have to sing for me."

She shakes her head, and looks down, "I actually have a gig tomorrow," her voice is so sexy already, if she sings for me, I'll probably marry her. Gosh, I'm drunk.

"That's nice," her eyes lock with mine. Ten glasses of wine, and I'm ready to strip her down buttnaked, "want to get out of here?" Where did that come from? I swallow and wait for her to answer. The suspense is beginning to kill me, as she continues to look into my eyes.

"I thought you'd never ask."