What does one wear on a first date with a two-hundred-and-thirty-five-year-old man?
"Just dinner," he had promised.
"Just dinner?" I had asked, raising my eyebrows at him.
"I wouldn't lie to a detective," he had replied, his eyes twinkling.
So now I pawed through my closet, considering and rejecting everything as I went. The button-down shirts were a definite no. Some of my nicer tops were okay, but I systematically vetoed each of them. They were too tight, or too baggy, or too bright, or too dark. None of them was just right – and I had to look just right tonight.
When I caught myself thinking that, I shook my head. "I'm like some lovesick teenager," I muttered, annoyed with myself. I pulled one of the nicer tops off of its hanger, determined to just get dressed and be done. Then I put it back. It wasn't just right.
Half an hour later, I reluctantly began to look through my dresses. It wasn't that I minded dresses; I enjoyed wearing them. I just didn't want to look too dressed-up on the first date. Part of me wondered if I could ever impress Henry. He'd seen thousands of women in his two hundred years. How could I hold a candle to any of them?
"Empirically speaking, Detective, you're quite hot." Henry's words from one of our cases rang in my mind. I smiled.
One of my dresses caught my eye. I had never worn it on a date with Isaac – when you're dating a millionaire, you tend to dress up a little more. This one was simple: a sleeveless black dress cut just above the knee, with a thin black belt and a white stripe at the bottom. I held it up against me and looked in the mirror. Just right, I thought.
-forever-forever-forever-
What does one wear on a first date with an incredibly attractive police detective?
"It's just dinner, Abraham, that's all it is."
"Just dinner?" Abe stood behind me; I could see his amused expression in the mirror.
"Yes! Just dinner!" I picked up a scarf, held it up to my vest, and then tossed it carelessly onto the growing pile on my bed.
"Then why are you so nervous?"
I sighed and turned to look at him. "I am not nervous, Abe. I merely want to look presentable for Jo."
"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Dad." I made a face at him. In truth, I was extremely nervous. I wanted to look just right for my Jo. Part of me wondered if I could ever impress her. She was stunning; she never wanted for admirers wherever she went. How could I stand out?
I was about to pull another scarf out of the closet when Abe reached over me and grabbed one. "Try this one," he said, handing it to me.
"Why?"
"Because you wore it last week and Jo couldn't stop looking at you."
I glanced at him, startled. "Really?"
"Yes, really. Here." He settled the scarf around my neck in my usual fashion and swiveled me to face the mirror again. "See?"
He'd selected a silk scarf in a deep maroon. It contrasted just right with my vest and white shirt. "Thank you, Abraham."
"Anytime." He winked at me. "Are you ready?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes, I am."
-forever-forever-forever-
I had adjusted my makeup and fixed my hair, and now I was a bundle of nerves, waiting for Henry to knock on the door. He had insisted that we wouldn't go far, and it would be "lovely to walk through this beautiful city with an even more beautiful woman on my arm."
At precisely 7:15, I heard a knock on the door. I picked up my purse and opened the door with trembling fingers. "Hello, Henry."
The look on his face was enough to convince me that I could hold a candle to any of his two hundred years of women.
-forever-forever-forever-
When she opened the door, I couldn't help but to admire her from head to toe. "You look lovely, darling," I said, smiling into her eyes.
"Thank you, Henry." She beamed at the compliment. After she closed and locked the door, I offered her my arm. She took it. The way she leaned into my shoulder was enough to convince me that I didn't need to worry about standing out.
So this was not the story that I was working on, but the idea came to me and I just had to write it. What do you think? Let me know in the reviews!