This Side (closed)

Scuttle Buttin' · Sep 19, 2013

It's foreign on this side
But it feels like I'm home again
There's no place to hide
But I don't think I'm scared

He was a busy man.

So busy, in fact, that time seemed to run away from him at times. Whole hours, whole evenings, that he didn't remember. No doubt lost in his work, time had slipped away from him and left him wondering what had happened between the last thing he did remember, and the time he found himself waking up in bed.

Occasionally, sure, drink may have been involved too.

But no ill effects had ever been noticed from his occasional inability to remember stretches of time, and so Noah Halloran thought nothing of them anymore. Now 33, the loss of time had started since he was near puberty, and it had seemed to coincide with a change in fortune for him. Once shunned by girls, he had found himself popular beyond explanation as high school rolled into college, and little changed when college deposited him into the real world.

By his late 20's he was wealthy enough that he no longer had to work, and at 30 he had formed a charity that worked to find scholarships, and even provided a small number of them, for children in the inner city that showed the drive and determination to succeed in the best colleges, despite where they'd come from. It was work that kept him busy often, but rewarding work that he wouldn't trade for anything.

Perhaps because of his work, his love life had never been overly successful in the terms most people might think of them. Finding someone to share his bed with him was rarely a problem, and often they'd be happy with each other for a short period of time before she seemed to grow distant and eventually leave altogether. Sex came easy, but love seemed elusive. Women who seemed open and friendly in the beginning, seemed to be entirely different people in the end. As if the idea of commitment frightened them, almost. It was strange, to continually run into the same problem no matter the age, nationality, or social status of the woman he was with, but it seemed without fail to happen. More than once, they had started a night together pleasantly, only for him to wake up alone and his calls to her left unanswered.

A few had even changed their numbers.

But there was little time for him to dwell on the postmortem of a relationship that was, apparently, doomed from the start, and so he moved on with his life and left them to move on with theirs. Occasionally he would find an item of clothing from an ex lingering in his spacious apartment where he did not remember it previously, but he had by now learned that attempts to return the items were almost always futile, and the few times they were not it was not a thanks he received, but a confused and frightened look instead. Best to just leave things alone, he thought. If they truly missed it, they knew how to contact him to retrieve their items. Though who still wanted a torn pair of panties or bra that seemed to have the underwire nearly torn free, he had no idea. How they ended up that way was just as much a mystery, but clearly not one worth dwelling on when the clothing in question had apparently been abandoned.

Still, he did long for a lasting and satisfying relationship, and so he had eventually turned to a dating service. The services offered were simple: You gave them your information, filled out a survey, and they matched you up with someone who had done the same and would, according to some algorithm, be compatible with you. Through the service, a time and place was decided on for a date, and it was there that the pair would see each other and speak for the first time. Semi-blind dates, they called it. It seemed worth a try, at least.

It was two weeks before he received a notification that he was matched up with someone, and they provided a short list of restaurants, dates, and times to choose from. Familiar with most of the establishments, he choose the one that he knew for certain had a quality vegetarian menu in case she turned out to require one - and so many did these days, it seemed - and he picked that Saturday, at 7 p.m.

A day later he received an e-mail informing him that all three - day, time, and location - had worked for her, and the date was set.

The temptation on a date like this, a first for him, was to dress to impress, but he resisted. A dark pair of pants, a crisp white shirt, dark tie, and a deep blue vest were all he wore, and even the tie was loosened and his shirt was open at the collar. Nice, but casual. If things went well, she would learn soon enough that he had money, but he didn't want to give that impression the moment she saw him and leave him wondering if things had worked out for that reason alone.

The restaurant was already buzzing with activity when he arrived, and he was pleased to discover their table ready despite the fact that he was early. The host who seated him knew already that he would be joined by a female guest, but accepted the reminder gracefully as he presented a wine menu to be looked over during the wait.

Flipping it open, Noah was surprised to find himself nervous. Women, it had been his experience, tended to approach him and begin the conversation, and so he rarely ended up putting himself out there without knowledge of whether or not the venture would succeed. Still, there was a strange sense of adventure to it, a thing he'd not tried before, and so his nerves were tempered with excitement, and more than a little curiosity at who he'd been matched up with.

He only hoped, whoever it was, she'd not be looking to run away as so many others had.

saysalice · Nov 8, 2013

She smiled as the last shaky notes of the serenade petered out, and waited a beat before leaning in to blow out the candles - not twenty-four, of course, but more than enough to light the room up brilliantly, even after the lights were turned out. She missed two with her first breath, laughed briefly and then puffed them out with another gust. Her nephew hooted at this flagrant display of defiance, and her mother and sister clapped as he dashed across the room to slap on the lights and pass out the plates.

Andrea's knuckles brushed the edge of the cake as she reached for the knife, and she sucked on them absently, savoring the same buttercream frosting she'd tasted year after year - this year, in a sunny lemon hue. Eight-year-old Martin slid a plate under her nose.

"What did you wish for?" he asked excitedly.

Andi blinked at him, an embarrassed smile spreading across her lips. "You know? I forgot to wish for anything!"

He stood next to her and looked at the cold pink candles, frowning. "Can we light them again? You gotta make a - "

He dissolved into giggles as she pulled him into a bear hug, tickling him and pressing her lips to his ear. "I don't think I can wait for cake, can you? It's not too late to make a wish!"

Martin turned his chin up to grin at her. "So, what do you wish for, Auntie?"

"I wish..." Her smile tightened slightly, but she turned it into a smirk as she winked down at him. "For the biggest piece, of course - with one of those yellow roses on it!"

He groaned in disappointment and squirmed away as she picked up the knife and sank it into the cake. As she brought it down again at an angle, he piped up helpfully:

"You got icing on the knife! You know what that means...you have to tell your BOYFRIEND'S name!"

Andi glanced up to see her mother and sister watching her. Expectantly.

Suddenly greatly annoyed, she forced another smile and answered in the same teasing tone, "Well, too bad I don't have a boyfriend! You want cake or not, mister nosey-pants?"

"Cake!" Holding his plate out eagerly.

"Cake, please," his mother corrected him from across the table, and he parroted the proper response as Andi slid him a wedge large enough to elicit a cluck of disapproval from his grandmother - a move that might have been intentional.

Not even the birthday girl was exempt from dishwashing duties in this house, and after dessert, Andi piled the plates in a sink full of hot soapy water, and rolled up her sleeves while Renee hunted for a dish towel. Their mother cleared the table so that Martin could finish his homework, and then stepped outside for her evening cigarette.

Diving in nearly to her elbows, Andi worked in silence alongside her sister for exactly three minutes before Renee muttered softly, keeping her head bent over the plate she was wiping dry:

"So, no boyfriend?"

Andrea sighed, and let the plate she was washing drift back onto the pile, flicking the bubbles from her fingers in annoyance. "Don't start, okay?"

Renee folded the towel in her hands and leaned against the sink, meeting her younger sister's glare evenly and shrugged - the very picture of nonchalance.

"I'm just saying - "

Exasperated, Andi turned to her and cocked her head. "Yes? What are you just saying?"

"That you're twenty-four...you'd better get on it."

Andi was already nodding - it wasn't the first or twenty-first time they'd had this conversation, or one like it. Her jaw hardened, and she snapped.

"Right. Get on it. Like you did? Because - remind me how well that worked out?"

The hurt that flitted across her sister's face was enough to make Andi instantly regret her words.

"I'm sorry," she murmured at once. "I am. I didn't mean...to say that."

Renee had stiffened, her expression reproachful as she looked over her shoulder to where her son sat, his pencil flying across a page of sums. She met Andrea's apologetic gaze with soft eyes.

"Don't you want babies, Andi?"

Andi smiled kindly, but her eyes twinkled. "Babies? Just how many did you have in mind?"

Renee looked tired, but her expression remained serious. "Children. Even just one. If you want - "

Turning back to the sink, reaching with the hollow underwater clatter of porcelain, Andi interrupted deliberately, lightly:

"I've had dozens of kids over the years, Renee. Dozens. I've loved every single one of them."

Her sister turned, too, and picked up a dripping plate from the rack. "Other peoples' kids."

Andi shrugged, her lips twitching. "They're the best kind! I can give them back."

The screen door banged shut, and Mama came into the kitchen with the smell of her menthol cigarettes still clinging to her. The girls fell silent again as she watched them work for exactly three minutes before she spoke up, apropos of nothing and everything:

"No man in your life, Andrea?"

She kept her face turned to the backsplash so that Mama wouldn't see her roll her eyes. "No one worth mentioning, Mama."

Her mother's disapproving cluck was the same for generous dessert helpings and recalcitrant old maids in the making. "You're creeping up on thirty. Don't you think it's time you settled down?"

Andi twisted the wash cloth, watching it the water trickle into the sink. She had to be more careful, answering her mother. Mrs. Ross was not known for her sense of humor, and would not tolerate cheek from her girls.

"When the right man comes along, I will be happy to settle down with him." She couldn't resist a sidelong smirk at her sister as she continued solemnly, "Maybe we'll even have a baby or two."

Mama was unconvinced. "You can't just wait around - you have to be out there looking - "

"Mama, I date - " she interrupted, but her mother was on a roll.

"Oh yes, fine men you date - the last one sat on your sofa for six months and snorted your paycheck up his nose while you went to work every day!"

"And then there was the one with three kids, from three different women," her sister put in disdainfully.

"...You wanted babies," Andi murmured, not entirely unamused - but had she pushed them too far? The conversation ceased suddenly, and there was only the clunk of dishes in the sink to fill the tense silence.

Finally, Mama spoke quietly: "Give it to her."

Andi turned to see Renee wipe her hands briskly on her apron and reach to retrieve an envelope from the top of the refrigerator.

"Give me what?" she asked, immediately suspicious.

*

This was how she'd wound up with an account on the website - a very expensive, elite member's account, her sister assured her candidly - not like that cheap, Kiss A Lot Of Frogs site that everyone seemed to be on. These were singles of a higher caliber, they insisted. It was their gift to her, an investment in her future, and she owed it to them to give it an honest chance.

She sighed as she clicked and pecked her way through the survey. She found the questions slightly odd, but at least they weren't the usual crap, asking for her zodiac sign and favorite flavor of ice cream. Coming to the end, she clicked "Submit" and breathed another sigh - of relief, this time - and was surprised to feel an excited little shiver run up her spine. There was a certain thrill in leaving it to fate - or science, she supposed...was this science? Andi rolled her eyes and smirked as she closed her laptop for the night. Whatever.

She watched her inbox for the first couple of days, but received nothing except the confirmation message from the service, notifying her that they had processed her survey responses. Was she disappointed? No, she told herself, and told herself that she wasn't checking anymore. It was another week and a half before the message she wasn't waiting for popped up in her inbox.

A match.

She could feel her pulse racing as she opened it, knowing full well that it would tell her nothing about him, as the service's introductory package had explained. It was one of the selling points, that they gave back the mystery in a hyper-digitalized world, the sense of adventure in a society that had become so obsessed with being cautious.

Just his name - not even a last name. Noah. She bit her lower lip, hoping he wouldn't turn out to be a religious nut or something - but then, they wouldn't have matched him with her...would they? It was the unsettling question: what traits had they deemed compatible, to pair her with him?

Andi grinned bravely at the screen as she composed a brief reply - to the service, not directly to him - accepting the date. She thumped the mousepad to send it, all nerves.

She had to admit that her mother and sister were right - she'd certainly picked some doozies for herself, in recent years. But was she really ready to leave it to an impartial third party - maybe a computer program, a soulless equation - she didn't even know for sure!

She was pacing restlessly across her bedroom, and she made herself stop, made herself shrug. She was overthinking it. It was just a date, and she was only doing it to get them off her back, anyway. She smirked at herself in the mirror and touseled a handful of curls.

"Who knows? He could turn out to be Prince Charming."

Saturday came around quickly, and she chose her outfit with care - stylish, appropriate for the restaurant and the cooler weather - not dowdy, but if he was hoping for T&A, he was going to be disappointed. It was a short cab ride to the restaurant. Living downtown, she didn't own a car, but she gave herself time and chose to walk it, instead. It would help her work off her jitters.

It was already dark when she left her apartment, and by the time she stood in front of the restaurant, pausing to peer through the large front windows, she couldn't see much beyond her own reflection. Candles glowed softly from the tables, and she could make out the dark silhouettes of several people - almost as many singles as there were couples - but couldn't see their faces. Anyway, there was no way to tell which one was waiting for her. No spoilers. She'd have to go in.

She felt slightly absurd, stepping up with only a first name to give, for the reservation, but the host seemed unperturbed, smiling and passing her coat to a girl and leading Andi to a table near the back, where it was quieter. She could feel her heart beginning to pound as she followed along in silence, thinking: please don't be a creep, please don't be a creep, please -

He stood when he saw her. He was nicely dressed, nicely groomed, with a charming smile that she couldn't help mirroring as the host pulled out a chair for her. And oh yes, he was handsome. She felt a rush of trembly relief as she reached across the table to shake his hand.

"Hi - Noah, right?" She couldn't stop smiling, and she lowered her chin slightly as she sank into her chair. She wasn't normally this demonstrative, and it would be wise, to keep at least a card or two close to her chest.

"It's Andi - well, Andrea. My - most people call me Andi, but - it's Andrea. My mother calls me...Andrea." She shook her head slightly, laughing. Simmer down, girl, she warned herself. He could still be a creep.

Lifting her head again, still smiling, she met his eyes directly. "It's really nice to meet you, Noah. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long?"

She suddenly wished she'd worn something showing a little more skin...

Scuttle Buttin' · Jan 11, 2014

The light in the restaurant was dim, candles on the tables and a singular clear bulb with a glowing golden filament in it's heart hanging over each table providing the majority of the illumination. Light spilled in from the street, of course, and dim lights on the walls that were projected towards the ceiling added to it, but it was clearly a place that was going for a certain mood lighting. It was actually quite effective, with couples leaned over tables and plates of food and half-empty glasses of wine in quiet conversation. But for a person sitting alone, it was a bit uncomfortable. Little to look at except other people, and he had no desire to be staring at his phone when she showed up.

So, he busied himself with the wine list, taking his time to scan through the selection despite being quite certain of what he'd be ordering. There was always the chance that she'd not like his selection, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

"Might I get you a drink while you wait, sir?"

A waiter had materialized at the table without his approach being detected, and Noah looked up in surprise.

"Oh. Yes, would you bring a bottle of the..."

He paused, flipping pages in the wine list. He knew exactly what he was going to order, doing so was entirely pointless, and yet he seemed powerless to stop it from happening. It was no different than when someone would find their order in the menu to stare at as they ordered it, despite the fact that they'd been staring at that very thing for the last five minutes. Perhaps everyone wasn't sure the thing they held in their mind actually existed, their model of the world not consistent with their actual surroundings. Perhaps people filled in the blanks with what they wanted, instead of what was true.

"...Cune Rioja Imperial, please."

"The 2004? A very good choice, sir. I'll return with that in a moment."

"Thank you," he said with a nod, closing the leather cover of the wine list and sliding it into the empty space in front of him that would be, in time, occupied by his plate. With no reason to concern himself with the wine list any long, he followed the waiter's retreat with his eyes. Just before disappearing from sight he swept past a woman who seemed to be headed in his direction, and for a moment Noah was caught between wanting to smile and stand to greet her, and being unsure that she was actually headed towards him instead of another table near his.

The maître d leading her in his direction gave it away more quickly than perhaps she would've on her own, and with some measure of relief Noah stood, and smiled as she arrived at the table.

A first meeting on a blind-ish date like this could be awkward enough, but the presence of a third person, and a third stranger on top of it all, served only to make the ground underfoot a little more rocky. Still, she was unquestionably attractive, and the smile she flashed him contained just enough uncertainty to assure him that she felt things were as off-balance as they felt to him.

"Noah, yes," he said, taking the offered slender hand within his own. He released her hand as they simultaneously lowered themselves into their respective chairs. It was a thing he knew he'd never be able to say aloud, no way to phrase it that he was aware of to make it sound like the compliment it actually was, but the dim lighting made her look really rather extraordinary. He wasn't exactly trying to, but he found he couldn't take his eyes from her, even as she fumbled through giving her his name. Which, of course, he already knew.

"Andi it is, then," he said with a quiet laugh, followed by a shake of the head. "Hardly, I've only been here just long enough to order..."

His eyes flickered from her to the approach of the waiter, the bottle of wine in his hand, and a grin swept across his features.

"...some wine. Is red okay? It's supposed to be quite good, but we can absolutely order a white, if you'd prefer, or something else entirely of course."

The waiter pardoned himself for interrupting and showed Noah the bottle, then poured a glass for each after receiving an approving nod. The bottle left on the table, the waiter slipped two cards before them, the menu small but, according to all he'd heard, quite good, and informed them that he'd return shortly to see if they had any questions or, if ready, take their orders.

Alone again - as alone as two people could be in a crowded restaurant, anyway - he raised his glass and tipped it, slightly, in her direction, offering a toast.

"To a wonderful evening."

The clink of glasses together barely registered past their table, and he took a sip of the deep red wine and shook his head, once.

"Mm. Yeah. They weren't wrong."

The glass was set aside, and he leaned forward over the table, just as so many around them were, the candle between them casting a circle of yellow over his features.

"So, Andi, tell me about yourself. Where do you work?"

This Side (closed)

Scuttle Buttin'

Demons at bay

saysalice

Literotica Guru

Scuttle Buttin'

Demons at bay

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