It’s Not What It Looks Like

The door opened and he came in and switched on the light, filling the living room with a soft glow. He stepped further inside and turned.

“Come on in.”

She followed, stepping almost timidly into the room. In her hand, she clutched her small purse in front of her, like a shield, as if to make up for the short dress she wore. He stole a quick glance at her legs, then smiled at her.

“This is a nice apartment,” she said.

“Thank you.” He stepped further into the room, giving her space.  “Would you like a drink?”

“Um.” She took a step and closed the door behind her and stood surveying the room. “Maybe just a small one.”

“Coming right up.”

He went into the kitchen and pulled two rocks glasses from the cabinet. She heard the crack of an ice tray and the clinking of cubes against glass.

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch,” he called. He poured some vodka in each glass, followed by tonic water, and gave them a quick stir. When he walked back into the living room, she was standing before his glass display cabinet. He walked up and handed her a drink.

“Cheers.” 

She took the glass and clinked it against his and took a tiny sip without meeting his gaze. Then she put the glass on the cabinet and picked up one of his knick-knacks. It was a gag gift from his college days, a slender white object that rested on a base of two round balls. The effect was blatantly phallic. She turned it over in her hands as if she’d never seen such a thing.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.

She examined it a moment longer. “What’s it look like?”

“Oh, you know… it looks like real ivory, but it’s not. I wouldn’t own anything made out of ivory.”

She returned the object to the shelf and glanced over the other objects while he watched her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

He looked at his watch. “About eleven-thirty.”

“I have to go.”

His heart sank, but he nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

She turned and walked toward the door and opened it and he decided not to even try to kiss her. With that decision, relief washed over him. He was debating whether or not to ask her for another date when she said, “Will you walk me to my car?”

“Of course.”

They came down the stairs and into the parking lot. He let her walk a step ahead of him. He had decided to give up on trying to read her. All night she had been giving him mixed signals. The short dress, the stilted conversation. She seemed slightly disinterested, and he was surprised when she agreed to come up for a drink. Now she was leaving. 

He didn’t know which car was hers. She pulled out her key fob and clicked it and a silver Lexus coupe lit up. She went straight to it and opened the door, then turned to him.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he said.

“Did you really?”

The question surprised him, and he realized it was the only one she had asked all evening.

“Yeah, I really did.”

She studied him closely, as if she were trying to assess the truth of his statement.

“Good,” she said. “So did I.”

“I’m glad. For a while, I wasn’t so sure.”

The stood looking at each other, and he thought, She is so weird.

“So, um, seeing as we both seemed to have an all right time, I was wondering if maybe you would like to do it again sometime.”

Instead of answering, she stepped in close and kissed him on the mouth. No one had ever done that before.

She pulled away and gave him that same appraising look. Then she said, “Yeah, okay. We can do it again sometime.” 

She got in the car and started it and belted herself in. Then she smiled at him.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” he said.

She closed the door and backed out and drove off, leaving him standing there in the parking lot like a complete idiot.