Prompt by Brian A. Klems at http://www.writersdigest.com/
Tick… tick… tick… tick… the sound of my wristwatch seemed many decibels louder than it actually was. Mixed with the anxiety-filled thud of my heart ringing in my ears and throat, every little sound around me was amplified to the nth degree. It has been six years since my last date; I can only hope I make a good impression. Working the nightshift at an art-gallery as a security guard really didn’t offer me much opportunity to meet any sort of lady. After hearing that simply remarkable voice over the phone, I simply had to end the crippling loneliness.
My best friend thought it was strange that she agreed to meet me for dinner just a mere week after hearing her voice. We have texted back and forward a few times; she seems fairly normal to me. There aren’t any immediate issues I can see at all, other than the fact that she won’t send me any sort of hint as to what she looks like. I’ve sent a picture or two; she seems to be quite interested in me, that’s a bonus I suppose.
Here I am, on my day off, waiting in the lobby of a well-reviewed Italian restaurant which was conveniently placed equidistance between both of our apartments. She’s a little late, but I can forgive her for now, the traffic was pretty awful when I was out there. I pulled up my phone, figuring I should probably send her a text.
“Table is under ‘Strous’, want me to order you a drink? : )” Would the smiley-face emoji be a tad too much? Do I look too eager? I’d better delete it.
“U pick, in traffic. Srry.” Came the response just a few moments later. I wasn’t expecting the reply to be so sudden, perhaps she was more eager than I. Raising, I nod to the hostess and allow her to take me to the designated table.
For the first few minutes, I rearranged the table a few times over. Constantly, my eyes were flickering toward the entrance, trying to guess if the next woman walking in was my date. Excitement and dread filled me at the same time. I was becoming pathetic. The mere clop of heels caused me to stiffen in my seat and brace myself.
The voice, the silky smooth voice on the phone is what kept me there. The sound was ever so angelic, ethereal, surreal, divine, like honey dripping from a wooden spoon. It was sweet, yet mature. I could imagine only a beautiful creature could ever possess the vocal chords of a cherub’s harp.
I could hear it now, louder than ever. My eyes lull around the table, dazed in a state of wonderment.
“Steven?” Repeated the voice, this time, I looked up.
There she stood, yet, there she didn’t stand. The voice was unmistakable, but something didn’t seem right. At a height of six-foot-three, she certainly towered over me by a few inches. Her skin was pale, but certainly by the help of the plastered makeup which frosted the cake which was her face. A bold, leopard-skin minidress clung to her… very, curvaceous body. A crown of curls spilled from the top of her head, dubbing her the Queen of trailers, if I ever saw one. Fake, bright-pink nails draped from her fingers, pointed and long like the talons of an overgrown bird.
What have I gotten myself into?