What am I doing here?
I was nervous, extremely so, not to mention genuinely confused at my own actions. I looked around the bar, anxiously scanning the room to see if I could spot them. Nothing yet, which made me secretly relieved. Maybe they wouldn’t show at all. Maybe they were just as nervous and skeptical as I was and decided against the idea entirely. I wasn’t a particularly superstitious woman, but hey, a sign is a sign. From beginning to end, this whole “adventure” of mine was extremely out of character for me.
I had arrived early at the bar to grab a drink on my own and calm myself down before my dates arrived. I’m not sure how well the drink was working though. My body still felt like it was vibrating.
No, seriously… what am I doing here? I took another sip of white wine, hoping it would bring some semblance of peace. It didn’t. I tapped my phone screen, 7:53 pm, just another few minutes until 8 pm, the designated time. Opening my camera, I checked my face. I mean, I looked good, so there was that. My mid-back auburn blonde braids were pulled in a high ponytail, providing me with easy sophistication. My deep brown eyes sparkled with my trademark copper eyeshadow. They were framed by lashes that looked natural but were glamorous enough to give me that extra oomph I loved for a first date. My brown skin was flawless and rich, my cheeks warm with blush, and my lips full and desirable with the faintest hint of red. I flashed a smile to check my teeth, and as always, was pleased with the result. I loved my smile. It wasn’t perfect, my teeth didn’t quite meet as I refused to wear my retainer, but it was one of my best features. Men and women alike would comment on my smile, that it was “captivating”.
At twenty-six, I truly looked the best I ever had. I could claim to be attractive and above average with no facetiousness. I had grown into my looks and learned how to highlight my natural beauty with fashion and the occasional makeup. The same curves I possessed, my small waist and round ass, that had been ridiculed growing up were now seen as the gold standard for women. I was technically overweight, but I got away with it given how my weight was distributed. My stomach was flat and the rest of me was curvy. I knew my ass looked good in the leather pants I wore, it clung to it like a second skin. My breasts were the perfect handful, a 32D. I was wearing a deep v-neck halter top. I never wore a bra with it, but nobody would guess, seeing as how my breasts sat upright with not a trace of sag. The tops of my breasts were a shade lighter than my cocoa skin. I really needed to go to a nude beach and even it out. Maybe one day, given this new adventurous streak coursing through me.
Oh my God is that them?? My heart started beating like a steel drum in my chest, Jesus Christ, get it together Sab. A couple walked through the door of the bar and made their way toward my booth in the back. The woman and I made eye contact, and she gave a tentative wave and smile. I instinctively smiled back and saw hers widen.
I began sweating profusely.
Oh my Goooodddd, is this a good idea?? What if someone sees us and realizes? But how would they know? I don’t know, we don’t look right, we don’t make sense. Sab, just relax, it’s one drink!
By the time I was done arguing with myself, they had reached my table.
“Hi! Sarabi?”, the woman asked enthusiastically. I stood up and reached across to shake her hand. “Yes! But everyone calls me Sab. And you’re Amy, right?”
“Yes, hi, and this is my husband, Tyler”. I looked towards Tyler and took him in for the first time, “Hi, Sarabi,” I said, flashing him another award-winning smile.
“Tyler,” his voice a rich baritone, “you look fantastic,” he said, gripping my hand and letting it linger a touch longer than necessary. I pulled my hand back and instantly flushed, grateful it would be indiscriminate with my skin tone, “oh, um thank you, you both look nice too!”
“I agree. You’re so beautiful, even better than your pictures somehow,” Amy added. I actually got that a lot and it was a compliment I always appreciated.
“Thank you,” I replied, “you both look great in person as well.”
I wasn’t lying. They looked nice. Amy was a touch taller than me, maybe 5’3 to my 5’2, so still petite. She had fair skin and dirty blonde hair that layered over her shoulders to the nape of her neck. Her face was sprinkled with light brown freckles that lent to her already friendly disposition. Her eyes were dark blue, and her nose pointed. It was a little too large for her face, but it suited her. It gave her character. She wasn’t classically pretty, but I found her to be quite cute. Her lips were pink and full, a faint trace of gloss making them look even plumper. Her body was accentuated by a floor-length floral maxi dress. The dress made it evident that what she lacked behind, she made up for in front. Her breasts curved in the dress, her cleavage deep and inviting. Despite her shy demeanor, Amy had no issue having her assets on display.
Tyler had a head full of brown curls, brown eyes, and a strong jaw. His skin was olive and tan, and I could see the subtle ripple of his muscles beneath his shirt as he took off his jacket to put on the back of his chair, clearly hot from the perpetual summer humidity outside.
Ugh, I love curls, I said to myself. Already I could feel myself yielding to these two individuals.