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13 Ocak 2023, 22:17
I lift my eyes from my phone to see a pair of black high heels standing in front of me. My eyes wander up over a long, slender pair of legs in a pair of snug black pants. Lots of silver jewelry, diamonds on her left ring finger. A white jacket covering a low-slung black top. A hint of cleavage, a tanned chest, and a striking face shaped by a blonde ponytail. I'm guessing mid-40's.She is waiting for me to answer her it seems. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" I smile apologetically. "Are you headed to LaGuardia at 9:15am?""I am" I reply, looking over at the check-in desk. It now says Miami 9:55am. "Hmm. Maybe they made a mistake. I haven't heard an announcement.""Well, I wouldn't hold your breath. They do this to me all the time." She pulls up her phone and starts typing. "I haven't even had my coffee yet, and now I worry that I'll have to walk all the way there, and then go elsewhere". I'm already bored with her. She is beautiful but starting to get on my nerves. I look at her and say "Well, I'm happy to watch your bags for you while you get your coffee." She politely declines and sits down a few seats away. It's only us in the lounge. She makes a phone call, which I can't help but overhear. First one child "If you don't stop crying, I won't go to American Girl for you...". Then the other: "It's okay to get questions wrong on your test. You didn't get a perfect score on your math test, and everything was okay - right?" Finally, her şişli escort (https://sislioto.com/) husband: "Please don't yell at the kids....I've only been gone 2 hours and you are already starting?"I tune her out, annoyed. A few minutes later, after a conversation with the agent, she strolls over to tell me our gate has been changed. We start walking towards the new gate together, making small talk. She works for a global call center. On a plane every week, different locations. 2 kids. Second marriage. Lives in the suburbs.She learns about me. Small business consultant, a fixer. Traveling to New York weekly for a couple of months.*Married wtih 2 kids and live in the city.As we talk, she gets more interesting. Funnier. Her smile is electric, and she has a sharp sense of humor too.She asks me where I'm staying. In SoHo. "Me too!". We swap hotel stories and talk in detail about the best lobby bars.Then our flight is called. We line up together and board. She is 8 rows behind me. Just like that, it's over. I didn't even get her name. I sit down and immediately start fantasizing of what could have been. I know I'm kidding myself. I've been faithfully married for over a dozen years but it's nice to fantasize.I think about how she was leaning over to speak with me in the lounge, allowing me a peak down her top. She caught me looking once but didn't flinch. I'm sure I blushed a little. Before I know it, the flight is over. I shuffle off the plane and head mecidiyeköy escort (https://sislioto.com/) for the taxi stand, casually looking over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of her - but no luck.As I'm in line for my taxi, I get a tap on the shoulder. "Hey you" she says. "It was really great to meet you. I hope your trip goes well. I also wanted to get your card, as I might have a client for you". I fumble into my briefcase and hand her a card. She winks and then she's gone. Throughout my day, I'm distracted. She is on my mind. She has my card but I still don't even know her name. I run the whole situation over in my head again and again. If I had game I would have asked her for a drink. If I was on top of it, I would have at least asked her name.At about 6pm, as I'm heading out of the office, my phone buzzes. - Hi TJ! Meet me for a drink at the Mondrian lobby bar at 7?- Sure. Sounds good. I respond. My heart pounding.The next hour passes like an itch. I pack up and head to my hotel to get changed and clean up. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. I'm very likely reading the whole situation wrong. I head to the bar for a quick drink to ease my nerves, then off to the Mondrian. When I arrive, she isn't there. I order a Manhattan and settle in to a high-top.A few minutes later, she walks in. Dark jeans, high heels and a sheer gray, loose tank top. Her necklace hangs into the open scoop, sitting on the swell of her breasts. She is tall and has a beautiful, natural sway to her walk. Her light blonde hair is still tied up in a ponytail, which is bouncing behind her. I drink her in and she lets me, looking to the side of the room as she approaches. She slides up to the table and flashes her gorgeous white smile. She smells fresh. She looks confident, but I can see she is flushed. I tell her how nice she looks and she jabs that I might be suggesting that she didn't look nice earlier in the day. I return with the suggestion that we might not be here having a drink if she hadn't, to which she gives me a shy smile.She orders a Martini - I like her even more now. We clink glasses, and begin to talk openly about family, work, and all points in between. I wonder if I have misread the situation, or if talking about what is waiting at home for us gives us each an escape plan - should we need it. We order another drink and I can see she is starting to glow. I suspect that she might have also had an early drink or two...The conversation leans towards old boyfriends and girlfriends, and the reckless days before we had kids. When she laughs, she throws her head back. When she is telling me something off-color, she touches my arm. Finally, the conversation slows down. My mind is starting to wander, like my eyes and I suspect she might have other thoughts on her mind too. When the waiter comes to offer us another drink, we both reluctantly agree that we have had enough. Now what.The waiter brings the bill, and she insists on paying. She writes her room number down in large digits: 1947. There it is. She settles up with the waiter, and we linger. The last few sips.