Saturday night was the third date with Mr. Dimple. When he discovered I had a Saturday night free, he asked, “can I have it?” with no specific plans in mind. A few days before our date, though, we were discussing our mutual love for bad scary movies, and that's when it hit me. A bad horror movie marathon!
He was supposed to come over at 4, but he texted me that he was running a little late. Me being Ms. Practical, I asked him how late, and would I have enough time for a quick shower? He said yes, so I got in. Right as I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower to dry myself off, though, my phone buzzed with a new text. He was outside.
“Ahhh!!” I yelled to my roommates. “He's here and I'm not ready!” One was already planning to take the dog outside, so she went out to meet him while I got threw on clothes as quickly as I could.
The first order of business was to go to the liquor store to pick up refreshments for our marathon. (It doesn't hurt that I love any excuse to go perusing through the microbrew section.) We ended up with a bottle of red wine- the color of blood, after all!- and a bottle of a Flemish red ale called Duchesse de Bourgogne. Incredible beer, by the way; I absolutely recommend it. When we got back, I threw together a curry for dinner and we flirted while I got more and more tipsy. Then we decided it was time to watch some movies.
The first one we put in was the original House on Haunted Hill. It was terrible, but that was kind of the point. We spent most of the time making MST3K-type comments and laughing. I also spent a good amount of my brain cycles admiring how comfortable he felt to sit next to.
Next was The Brain that Wouldn't Die. Now that is a classic piece of American cinema, let me tell you! I was laughing so hard by the end that I thought I was going to trigger an asthma attack. My roommates came home from dinner at the end of it and were cracking up just watching us crack up. It was fantastic.
As the movie came to an end, I turned towards Mr. Dimple; almost as if he read my mind, he pulled me onto his lap and we began making out furiously. He has this way of applying just the right amount of pressure when he puts his arms around me- it feels strong and secure without being uncomfortable or squeezing too much.
When we finally came up for air, I reminded him that I had dessert in the kitchen. “I'd rather have you,” he replied. That was exactly the right thing to say. We picked up our wine glasses and empty bowl of popcorn, I turned out the lights, and we headed upstairs.
Things progressed from there. When it got to the point we were in our underwear with him on top of me, I remembered- I was out of condoms.
It was bound to happen. With all my bragging on here about how prepared I am, I'd forgotten to go to the store after using the last one.
“It's okay,” he told me, as he stripped off my thong and worked his way down my body. It was more than okay, that's for sure.
When we were starting to fall asleep, he pulled me close to the heat of his body. It was perfect.
He had to leave early the next morning to get his car back because his live-in girlfriend needed it. I offered to make him breakfast before he went, though, and we chatted over eggs and toast and tea. When he left, he wrapped me up again in his strong embrace. That, I can never get enough of.
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