The Moroccan was a Middle-Eastern restaurant located in downtown Los Angeles. The darling of celebrities and critics alike, the restaurant featured belly dancers, tarot card readings, and a décor of rich colors and carpentry.
It was no mistake that Dave particularly chose this restaurant. Besides the exotic food and sensual atmosphere, The Moroccan reminded him of when he turned some 200 years prior. And he would never forget that night or the woman who turned him out. I hope she likes Trish.
Ordering for his date, Dave and Trish became more acquainted with each other over wine. She talked more about her interests and her life. Her Harley was a gift from her parents on her 21st birthday.
"They must be very proud of you." Dave commented.
Trish nodded. "They were."
Dave didn't think twice at the hint Trish was dropping. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"
She waved a hand off to him. "I'm sure you've heard so I might as well inform you." She smarted.
Over the next several minutes, Dave learned something about Trish's demeanor that explained everything. Her parents and younger brother were killed in a botched robbery when she was a senior in college. She would never forget the week trying to concentrate on her finals while planning funeral arrangements.
News coverage was at an all-time high and Trish was forced into seclusion. Once the criminals were caught and the trials were over, Trish moved away from her hometown of Livonia, Michigan. Escaping her life—and possibly reality—Trish moved to Los Angeles. Not wanting the same thing to happen to her, Trish always carried a gun. She had several in her possession and retained a concealed weapon permit.
"And that's pretty much it. The story of my life." She shrugged as she nibbled on a breadstick.
"You know you didn't have to tell me that." Dave commented.
"It would've come out eventually." She shrugged.
Dave knew what Trish was doing and she was failing miserably at it. "You like to scare your dates often, don't you?"
"It works." She replied.
"Is that why you told me?"
"Possibly." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "And possibly to see your reaction. Most guys feel so sorry for me that they feel that the only way to comfort me is to bed me. Some run as far away as they can."
"And my reaction is telling you…."
Trish studied Dave for a minute. He was calm and collected, yet unfazed. While his reaction wasn't typical, she wasn't sure if she was digging the stone face either. "I'm not sure yet, but I'm positive your true colors will come out soon enough."
"Fair observation."
"So what about you, Mr. Fortune 500 executive…" She sipped her Merlot. "What's your story?"
Dave shrugged. "I don't have one."
"Please. You didn't get to where you are without some back lot story?"
Dave thought about telling Trish his real past. And the thought of her actually believing that he was a vampire was nothing short of hysterical. "Oh there's a story. And I'll tell you when it's appropriate."
Trish took another sip and rolled the wine around in her mouth. "Are you always this secretive?"
"Are you always this inquisitive?" He challenged.
She didn't blink once when she answered him. "Yes."
Dave nodded. "I figured."
"Let me guess…" Trish leaned forward. "You're married."
Dave was too busy staring at Trish's ample breasts that he almost forgot she asked a question. "No."
"Illegitimate children?"
Nitro and London? Yep, that would be them. "None."
"There's something mysterious about you." Trish said.
That's one way of saying it, yes. "There's a bit of mystery about all of us, Trish."
"I know that, genius." She smirked. "But you're different."
Dave was intrigued. "How?"
"Your essence, your charm, your grace." Trish took another sip. "You have this quality about you that isn't contrived or fake."
"My aura, if you will." He added.
"Your swagger, if you mind." She challenged.
"Your undeniable sex appeal, if you let me." He once again challenged.
"Maybe." She smiled.
Dave smiled as the waiter set the plates down. "We should probably eat."
---------------------------------
Dave watched Trish dived into her Zagora Tagine. Her eyes lit up as she savored her dinner. It was no surprise that she hasn't had a good meal in a while. Being a bartender wasn't everything it was cracked up to be. "This is so delicious."
"Did you want to try this?" Dave held out a fork.
"The dinner or you?" She teased.
"Depends on what you're craving." He smiled.
Trish leaned over and took a bite of his Rabat Tagine. "Mmm…." She cooed as the beef tenderloin melted in her mouth.
Dave watched her enjoy his meal. He had never seen someone take such pleasure in eating. Her face was orgasmic; her body was flushed with heat. And she was only eating dinner.
"Did you want some?" Trish asked him as she gathered some food on her fork.
Oh hell yes. "Sure." Dave leaned forward and ate off Trish's fork. He closed his eyes and licked his lips. "Delicious."
Trish nodded as she watched Dave. "And this wine is so smooth…the way it trickles down my throat…" Trish breathed. She never felt such a pull towards another being yet she had to oblige what her body is achingly wanting. "Do you want to go…"
Dave motioned for the waiter. "Check please."