Chapter Two: Say your name again? #

It was 11 on an unusually cold Saturday morning, and Shireen was at the door. Aliya had asked her to come early, but in her heart, even she didn’t know why. After contemplating her dress choices, Aliya and Shireen were off to the mall. Aliya’s heart was racing, and she kept looking at the clock. The girls were done shopping and decided it was time for milkshakes. To Aliya’s surprise, the boys joined them for milkshakes that evening. That included the infamous Mike, whose love interest was the biggest mystery of the Pacific Northwest. In a way, she was happy as the focus would not be on her today.

It was two, and he was settling in at his table. He wore a blue turtleneck and dark blue jeans with a black peacoat. He looked warm, and he looked hot. As she suspected, he went to the last shop, a noodle house. She had fallen for that and ordered their noodle soup. She remembered the taste of rusted water from old pipes in Moscow, and her shoulders crouched, and her face twitched like a shock to her body. She thought, “Oh boy!” He came back with noodles and the milkshake and tried the first sip. The taste caused him to mimic Aliya’s reaction, and he pushed the tray away. She smirked.

She stood up and looked back to the table to excuse herself. All the girls were busy talking to the boys, and she didn’t need to say anything. She approached his table and asked, “Why would you eat that?”

Now, it was his time to be startled. He looked up from the table for the first time today and saw this beautiful girl standing across from him. He had not seen her walk over. She wore a floral dress that reminded him of spring in this dreadful wintry weather. Her cheeks were pink and matched her cold red nose. Her hair was jet black with slight waves at the end. She had bangs that were falling over her right eye. He needed a moment just to look at her.

Suddenly he realized that nothing had been said for a minute. She was still looking at him with her curious brown eyes and a beautiful smile that caused a dimple on her left cheek. Her face reflected patience for his answer. “Her question, why yes,” he thought. He stood up and replied, “I don’t know any other place where I can eat alone.”

Aliya smiled. He had a British accent that made him even sexier, and it was the first time she really looked at him. He had a round face with a prominent jaw. His hair was dark brown with rare auburn highlights. When he looked at her, she saw his innocent charcoal eyes with a greenish hue. She admired his raw beauty, and her heart raced when he spoke. “From her own country,” she thought. But he will not realize that as Aliya had no accent. She was born in London, but all the travels and languages had robbed her of any accent. It was time for her to speak. “Seattle is home to many a gourmet restaurant, and maybe Anna Karenina will be a great date,” said Aliya. She was searching for an expression on his face, but there was none.

“I will be too self-conscious. I go out with my colleagues on weekdays. But on weekends, I am all alone. My loneliness is lost in other people’s conversations here; a tale of a fallen French fry or a triumph over the last on-sale shoe.” He replied with a much-awaited smile.

She smiled. She watched people, and he listened to them. “I could go with you,” she said. “No one should be eating these oxidized iron noodles.”

“Ah! You have tasted it too.” His eyes brightened, and his smile widened.

“Yes. Rookie mistake. The neon lights were too alluring”, said Aliya smiling.

He laughed. “We both deserve better food. I will pick you up at seven tonight?”

“Sounds great,” she said. She took a paper and pen from her bag and wrote down her address. “I will be waiting in the lobby,” said Aliya handing him the paper, and she walked towards the table.

She sat back with her friends and looked towards his table. It was empty, and she saw him walking towards the exit. A thousand thoughts were going through her mind. “Is that a date? What to wear? Where might they be going? What would she eat? What if he offered a drink and the sommelier refused to serve her?” Never once the thought of danger crossed her mind. She had laid ten dresses across the bed, and there was a winner. It was already five, and she needed to make haste.

It was 6:30, and he was on his way to her place. He didn’t want to be late as there was no way to call her. Traffic was on the way, and he got there with two minutes to spare. It was an address to a building. The driveway that led to the entrance was covered with white marble. Marble carved ceiling lay on top of Greek columns, lit with soft white light. He parked the car on the driveway, leaving enough room for another car. A doorman opened the car door for him to step out. He rechecked the address to make sure he was not at a hotel. It was the correct address. He looked up and saw her standing at the top of the stairs.

She had chosen a gold mermaid halter dress that faded into white at the bottom. It was backless and clung to her slim figure. The front had golden beads and threadwork that accentuated her curves. Her hair was neatly tied in a pony, revealing her thin milky face. She had thick eyebrows, sharp eyes with long eyelashes, a delicately curved nose, and full lips. She was 168 cm, but in the golden shoes, she looked much taller. She was looking at him, and he was looking at her. He nearly clutched his heart, but instead, he adjusted his tie and climbed the eight stairs to greet her.

He chose a fitted charcoal suit with a black silk shirt. To complete the ensemble was a slim black tie and Italian shoes. Silver tiepin was the finishing touch. If the suit jacket was open, one could see his abs through the shirt. He had broad shoulders, and the suit clung to his muscular body like a saran wrap. His hair was parted neatly to the right side, with the stubborn locks falling over his eyes.

She greeted him, and he offered his arm to walk her down. Her one-meter trail followed them, and it was a picturesque moment. He guided her towards the car, and he opened the door. To her surprise, it was a Bugatti. “He’s rich,” she thought.

She climbed in, and he kneeled, picked her trail, and handed it to her. They were on their way to the restaurant.

“I am Alex.” He said, extending his arm to shake.

“I am Aliya. Pleased to make your acquaintance”. She shook his hand carefully to not to distract him from driving.

“I figured we should at least know each other’s names before going to dinner.” “You look lovely.”

“Thanks. As do you.” “Nice car. 16/4”

“Yes. You like cars?”

“Yes. I was at the Frankfurt Auto show when Chiron 18/3 was unveiled. It was exquisite, in sea blue.”

“Is it your favourite car?”

“No, Audi. I was doing a stock pick competition with my dad. The price of aluminum went up in our simulation, and I learnt that in addition to freezer trucks, Audi was a major consumer of aluminum because they wanted their cars to be light and fast. The more I studied the company, the more I fell in love. Bugatti and Audi are both owned by Volkswagen. German Engineering.”

Alex smiled. “Do you like driving?”

“I love driving. I admire that you are driving this car. I hate when people buy marvelous pieces of engineering and park them in their garage like a forgotten stack of money in a safe. Thousands of engineers and creative minds worked for years to produce this marvelous piece.” Said Aliya touching the divider. “They built this car to fly faster than everyone. Its place is on the road among its species, not to be kept in a cage like in a zoo to be gawked at.”

“Thank you. I feel the same way. This is my only car. I have driven it cross country.”

“Really? That is brave. Did you manage to see anything besides petrol pumps?”

Alex laughed. “I didn’t test the marvelous engineering of the car. I drove very much under the speed limit. Have you ever driven a Bugatti?”

“I have. To the petrol pump.”

Alex laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong. It was an amazing drive. To the petrol pump.”

Alex was laughing. “I made the reservations for 7:30. I hope you like French food”.

“I love French food. French bread, marmalade, and cheese is my comfort food. The food available at petrol pumps around Europe.”

Alex laughed. “Do you often travel to Europe?”

“Not so much lately. What about you?”

“I travel too often. I wish someone were keeping me here.”

With that thought, they arrived at the restaurant. A doorman opened the door for Aliya, and Alex parked the car. They walked in together, and he asked the maître d’ if their table was ready since they were early.

Jacques, their server for tonight, arrived and guided them to the private dining room. He opened the door, and two seats were in the middle of a small room. The room was filled with arrangements of white and red roses. The only light was from candles in the Baccarat candelabras on the four Greek columns. The table was draped in a red and white tablecloth at a 45-degree over it. There was a small goblet vase with two tapered candles covered in roses as the centerpiece. A champagne bucket on the side with a 90’ Dom Pérignon completed the setting. Jacques pulled out the seat for her, and she sat. A small ottoman was on her side for her Alexander McQueen clutch purse.

“Good evening. My name is Jacques, and I will be your server tonight. Is it your first time at the restaurant?”

“Yes,” Aliya said.

“Ah! We have a special tasting menu designed by our chef.” pointing to the special menu card. “And we have the three-course à la carte option. Let me know if you have any questions.”

He walked over and showed the champagne bottle to Alex. He nodded, and the champagne was flowing in two glasses.

“Would you like some sparkling or still water?” asked Jacques.

“Some still water for me, please. Thank you.” She said.

“And you, sir?”

“Still water. Thank you.”

“Do you speak French, Alex?” asked Aliya.

“No.”

“Est-ce que vous parlez français?” Aliya asked Jacques.

“Oui.” And that started a conversation in French that lasted minutes and seemed to make Aliya and Jacques immensely happy.

“Do you have any food allergies or diet restrictions, sir?” Jacques.

“No.”

“I will give you a few minutes to decide. I will be back with your water.” Jacques left.

“Are you plotting your escape?” asked Alex.

“If I told you, that would negate the point of French.” Said Aliya with a smile.

“I should have picked an Italian restaurant.”

“I also speak Italian.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

“Five. I also speak Russian and German. I like to read, and some feelings and thoughts cannot be translated into English. I am sure there is great literature in many other languages, but this is how far I have gotten. Do you speak any other language besides English?”

“No. I learnt French in school, which I have clearly forgotten because I did not understand anything. A toast to bad noodles.” Said Alex raising his glass. “Sometimes fate requires you to look into the darkness before it shows you light.” Toasted Alex.

Glasses clinked, and they took a sip from the champagne. He was looking at her while she was looking at the menu. Her head was slightly tilted, and her face was glowing from the light of the candles. She looked up from the menu without lifting her face, and her gaze caught his. He fumbled and quickly focused his eyes on the menu as if it were the almanac from the future. She smiled and focused back on the menu.

“What would you suggest?” asked Aliya.

“Tasting menu looks great,” “or à la carte, if you prefer.” He said. “Can you tell I am nervous?”

“I would not have guessed,” she said sarcastically but with an innocent smile.

Jacques entered with the water and, while pouring the water, asked, “Have you decided?”

“Yes, we will have the tasting menu,” she said, handing him the menu.

“Fabulous,” Jacques poured the other glass and took Alex’s menu. “Enjoy!”

“So, where were we?” she said, looking at him like she was evaluating him. But she had a slight smile and looked directly into his eyes.

“I was nervous.” They laughed. “I haven’t gone out with a girl since college. Clearly, it has been a while.”

“This is great champagne. You know your champagne,” said Aliya changing the subject.

Alex smiled at her abrupt change of subject. “I don’t know anything about champagne. I asked for the most expensive one.”

Aliya laughed. “It’s Dom Pérignon 90. The best champagne after 76, or 74, I forget.” Now Aliya could tell that she was making him nervous. “What do you not like in people?”

“Usually, people ask what you like.”

“I think knowing what you don’t like is more important. I would rather not offend you,” she explained.

He smiled, “I don’t like people who have internal motives and want to take advantage of others. How about you?”

“I am not fond of people who are untrue to their word.”

“You talk in a very formal manner.”

“I am sorry.” Said startled Aliya. She was trying to think what to say next or how to say the next thing. She was made self-aware, and it threw her off her game.

“No. It’s very nice. I am from London, and I adore your courtesy. But I would like you to be comfortable with me, to be yourself.”

Aliya smiled and acknowledged. “I like your name. Were you named after Alexander the great?”

Alex smiled. “My name is Alexander. I don’t know if I was named after Alexander the great or someone else. I will ask my mum.”

“Why do you shorten it then? Alexander is much nicer than Alex. Your parents intended you to be called Alexander and not Alex unless you don’t like the name.”

“No. It is long, and Alex is shorter. I love how you say, Alexander.” He said, trying to mimic her accent. “It is adorable.”

“Wait, say your name again?”

Alexander laughed. “I like your version better. But I will find out the origin of my name. Do you like my name because it reminds you of Alexander the Great?”

“Yes. Alexander is my favourite person in history. I read about him when I was seven. I can even tell you the date. That interested me in ancient history, Rome, and Greece. It is my favourite name in the world. When Shireen, my friend, needs a big favour, she quotes the friendship of Alexander and Hephaestion. Even my favourite brand is Alexander McQueen.” Said Aliya showing him the clutch. “Do you have a name for your car? Bugatti gets a nameplate, right? I would have named your car Bucephalus.”

“I would have to check. It was a present from my dad. Why Bucephalus?”

“Bucephalus means ox head. It was the name of the majestic black horse of Alexander. It is said to have a white star on his head, so it looks like your car, black and silver. The horse could not be tamed. And Alexander saw that it feared its shadow. So, he turned the horse towards the Sun so it couldn’t see his shadow and whispered in his ear to calm and tame him.”

Alexander was about to say something when Jacques arrived with the amuse-bouche. It was a trident of the chef’s secret recipe of cold popcorn soup, with truffle foie gras on brioche and Oscietra caviar on Russian pancake blini.

“Alexander, tell me a funny story from your childhood,” said Aliya.

“You are a peculiar person.” Said Alex with his brightened eyes. “A funny story from childhood! I was seven or eight when all three Star Wars movies had a special feature together. I convinced my mum to take me to the film. In those days, there were no multiplexes and no online tickets. One had to stand in line to buy tickets. I stood with my mum in the noon heat to get the tickets. There were no assigned seats, so everyone would rush in to get good seats when the doors opened. We got the tickets and got terrific seats. After each movie, there was an intermission. I needed to use the toilet between the second and the third movie, and mum was saving our seats. The line was long, and the film had already started by the time I returned. I went back to my seat and watched the movie. When the movie was over, mum held my hand to walk out. I was squishing and whooshing my saber with my other hand (he said, making gestures with his hand). I lost control of the saber, and it pricked my mum.

She screamed, and the scolding began, “Stupid movie. Why can’t you see where you are going? I am going to break this thing when we get home!” And while saying that, another boy held her hand. I asked, “Mum, who is this?” She looked at me and said, that is my son. Who are you?”

Aliya laughed.

“Apparently, I had gone to the wrong seat, and my mum was screaming in the background, “Alex! Alex!” She never let me live it down to this day. Remember the time I took you to see Star Wars, and you chose another mum.”

Aliya was laughing when Jacques came in with another server to take the plates. The server was holding a bread tray. Aliya chose the baguette, and Alex chose the rosemary focaccia. It was served with swan-shaped butter with pink Himalayan salt as its eyes and scales.

“Your turn,” said Alex.

“I went to a fancy restaurant with my parents for their business dinner. The dinner was tedious. I used to carry books and papers with me to read. I excused myself from the table to go to the restroom to read, some lone time.”

“And you came back and sat at another table.” interrupted Alex.

“I wish! That would have been much less embarrassing. I was in the restroom, and there were other people, and curiosity got the best of me. I noticed that, um… “things” seemed different. Maybe because they were older, but I was staring at people while they were doing their business. Suddenly, I heard this voice, “Aliya. Get out! You are in the men’s bathroom.” And my dad dragged me to the table. It was a long talk in Hunt household that night.”

It was Alex’s time to burst into laughter. “How old were you?”

“Older than I’d like to admit. Definitely older!” she said, uncrossing her legs. “I am an only child. I have never been around babies. Curiosity got the better of me.”

Alex was laughing. “I am an only child too. My parents live in London.”

“My parents also live in London, and I live here alone. They fly once a month for brunch. I will be seeing them tomorrow. My uncle lives in Seatle, so here I am.”

“My loneliness explains my visit to the mall. What is your excuse?”

“Peer pressure.” They laughed.

With that, Jacques arrived with their first course. It was a green salad, Kalamata olives, Lobster, and feta brulé tossed in olive oil and red wine dressing.

“What is your least favorite food?” asked Aliya.

“Do the noodles from the afternoon count?”

“Ha! No. A vegetable, meat, a cuisine?”

“That would be Mexican. There is green stuff mixing with the white stuff and red stuff on top. Just not aesthetically pleasing.”

“The presentation matters to you.”

Alex’s smile vanished. He just sounded petty, and she had picked up on it. “No, no. I will just stop talking.”

“That is fine. The presentation is the livelihood of many chefs. Even nature requires perfection with the golden ratio. For me, it is the smell and the taste. If the food doesn’t look good, I can close my eyes and eat it. But I can’t block my nose and my taste. I can overcome the smell on rare occasions, but I cannot compromise on taste. Are there cameras here?” asked Aliay looking at the corners.

“Doesn’t look like.”

“Truffles, yuck. I know they are expensive and look nice. But they are an acquired taste that I have yet to acquire. There have been instances where the food did not look appetizing but tasted out of this world. Have you ever been to Spain?”

“No.”

“In Spain, there is a dessert, like crème brûlée. But they burn the sugar on top with an iron rod. It is proper burnt. It looks like tar, and you can imagine the smell of burnt sugar. However, I pushed through and tasted it. Incredible! It just works. I have a theory about food. A good chef, neigh a great chef, can make anything taste great. Hence, I taste everything, even the truffle foie gras.”

Alex’s smile was back. “I will make a note.”

They finished their salad.

“What made you come over and talk to me today?” asked Alex.

“Honestly?” she said, dabbing her lips with the napkin.

“Honestly!” said Alex affirming.

“I saw you the first time a few weeks ago when you ordered a burger.”

“Now, that was horrible.”

And Jacques entered with another server for the next course. “For the next course, we have homemade ricotta with lime caviar, tomato confit, rabbit Porchetta, and fresh-out-of-the-oven brioche.” He topped the champagne glasses and left with the plates, “Enjoy.”

“I started coming to the mall in January with my friends. And then I saw you ordered the burger. At first, it was funny as I knew the burger was bad, and it was like an “I dare you” game. Then it became a routine. You ordered bad food, we had a milkshake, and then you left.”

“What changed today?”

“It was the last food shop. You could have changed the mall or changed city.”

“Changed city!”

“Bad food can do that to you. It can make you cuckoo.” She said, moving a finger in a circle around her temple.

He laughed. “You thought that today would be my last day. But why did that matter to you? So, what if you never see me again? There are many other people in the mall.”

“But you were the only one with sad eyes.” She said, looking deep into his eyes. Her gaze was so intense that he thought she had gazed into his soul. He had to look away.

“What made you accept the invitation?” she countered.

“I wanted better food. Also, I have been lonely and sad lately. I talk only about work; no one asks me about my childhood. When you came over, you asked me so innocently that I had this feeling that I must get to know you.”

“Are you still nervous?”

“Yes. I don’t want to ruin this moment. It is perfect with perfect food, perfect company, perfect place.”

“We have established that perfect is your favourite word.” Said Aliya smiling. “Is this your favourite restaurant?”

“Yes. I came here for work lunch, and I always wanted to have dinner here. What’s your favourite restaurant?”

“It’s not in Seattle. I am not that fond of food. Alcohol, however, is another domain. Life is too short of having bad liquor. Do you usually drink champagne?”

“No. It is a drink for two. I like a martini.”

“Like the agent on majesty’s service.”

“Yes, I like gin or scotch. Do you like wine?”

“No. My mother is an oenophile. I get headaches from it. My mom talks about the bouquet and color; who cares. It is liquor; I will enjoy the acquired taste, the buzz, and the hangover. Leave the tasting forensics to food. Anyway, do you like wine?”

Alex laughed. “Yes. I do enjoy a crisp white wine.”

“What do you fear?”

“Right now, I fear I will never see you again.”

“You should fear seeing me again. I am much more inquisitive the second time around.”

Alex laughed. “I didn’t have any expectations going into this evening. But you are majestic. Your talk is very refreshing. You are not asking about backgrounds, but….I can’t even describe it. I would very much like to see you again.”

The moment was interrupted by Jacques, who arrived with their third course. It was black linguine squid pasta.

“I would like to see you again as well if you promise not to subject me to mall food.” Said, Aliya.

“I promise. What do you like to do on weekends besides visiting the mall?”

“I have to see my parents tomorrow. Usually, I read or watch movies. What about you?”

The “Star Wars “episode” had traumatized our family, so no movie theater. I read academic papers or sometimes science fiction books.”

“Really. What is your favourite book?”

“Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy.”

“That is a funny book. I grabbed that book when I was on the flight from Paris to Seattle. It is a light book. I read that book over and over and over on the flight. It was the last time I read the book.”

“You don’t like Seattle?” asked Alex sensing unrest in her story.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it. I go to school, come home, go to my uncle’s house, or get on a flight. That is about it. Have you read Anna Karenina?”

Alex laughed as she changed the subject again. “No.”

“One of my dad’s friends had suggested this book. And it is long. I started reading, and it just got really annoying. Anna had a great husband, and she left him. Then she had an amazing lover, but she was still unhappy. I was like, “Why don’t you just die!” and I gave up reading it. I met my dad’s friend at a party a month later, and I told him that I gave up after Levin’s son was born because Anna is a very negative character, and she just wouldn’t die. He said, ‘You know if you had read fifty more pages, she dies.’ I was flabbergasted. I could have had closure. It is still on my reading list. I told you the story because today I made a joke that you could bring Anna Karenina on a date. Because even time spent with her would be better than time spent in the mall eating atrocious food. I don’t want to discount the book. It is beautifully written with views on motivation, what motivates one to work or work better or harder, and the complexities of politics in family and at work. Just Anna Karenina bugs me.”

“Do you read science fiction?”

“Does Man in the High Castle count?”

“I don’t know the book.”

“It is about an alternate ending of world war II—quite scintillating. Germany and Japan won, and each controls half of the US.”

“I have a critical question for you,” said Alex leaning forward on the table. “Have you seen Star Wars?”

“No,” said Aliya laughing.

“We must do that immediately. Do you have plans tomorrow after brunch?”

“My parents generally stay till dinner.”

“There are six movies. We need two days to watch them. The movies are amazing. You will love the music in the movies.”

“Who’s the composer?”

“I should know this. It’s the same person who composed the music for Harry Potter.”

“Oh, John Williams.”

“How do you know that?”

“I only know because he was nominated for Academy Awards with Lord of the Rings, Howard Shore. Howard Shore won.”

Alex laughed. “You are fascinating, Aliya.”

Jacques entered with their main course.

“This is a special course designed for 2. It is a tasting of various types of meat. Here we have Australian wagyu, Kobe beef, Lamb, and USDA prime beef aged in our restaurant. It comes with six kinds of sauce, red wine base, chipotle, bourbon peppercorn, béarnaise, bordelaise, and chimichurri. Mam, what would you like?”

“That is a lot of food. I would like a small portion of each meat. No sauce, please.” The other server had started arranging the plate.

“Excellent. And for you, sir?”

“Same as her.”

The meat was split, and they were eating.

“Do you like classical music?” she asked, tasting the prime beef first.

“Yes. Sometimes, I go to a Philharmonics concert.”

“What’s your favorite piece?”

“Beethoven symphony no. 9.”

“The first time the chorus sang, it startled me. It is loud and deep.”

“You like classical music?” said Alex surprised.

“My father and I would go to the symphony. Funny story. I saw Berlin Philharmonics and Amsterdam and London, and I was surprised that all orchestras played the same tune to let everyone know they were about to begin. I wanted to know more about the tune. And I read it is tuning the concert pitch to the A note. I felt dumb.”

Alex laughed. “It is because all the instruments have an A note. What is your favourite symphony?” asked Alex.

“The four seasons of Buenos Aires. They were a set of four compositions originally treated as four separate pieces of music. But a Russian composer saw the parallel with Vivaldi and put them together. They are upbeat and lively. And they remind me of how some things that are so different can form a beautiful symphony.”

“You have a story about everything.”

“Always! Every day should be a story. Talking about stories, do you like opera too?”

“Not so much. I can’t understand the language, and it becomes difficult to follow, but that is not a problem for you.”

“I never saw one. Do you have a list of things you want to try?”

“I wish to eat more dinners with you.”

They smiled. He finished his plate and excused himself to visit the restroom.

“You don’t like it?” said Alex pointing to her plate as he sat.

“It is great, but I want to leave space for dessert. French restaurants save the best for last. I just wish I could walk somewhere tonight after this heavy meal.”

“I have a nice garden in my house to walk around. No..no.…Not that I am imposing. No..no…Not like I would mind. I will stop talking now!” he said, leaning back in his chair.

She laughed, “Garden sounds great.”

And with that, Jacques was there with their desserts. They did save the best for last. The dessert was a caramel-filled chocolate cake with gold leaf glaze and Madagascar vanilla ice cream separated by a sea of champagne raspberry puree. Neither of them spoke during this course, as the dessert was delicious. Just as they finished, Jacques walked in with a dessert cart. Eyes were rolled, stomachs were felt, and they were done!

Jacques handed them two goodie bags with house-made chocolate and macaroons. He asked if they would like the bottle of champagne as a souvenir of the night. Before Alex could say anything, Aliya asked if he could take their picture. The candles were shining, and champagne was poured. The first shot was with their champagnes toasting, and they were looking at Jacques. Another shot was the champagne glasses at the table and them looking at each other. Both shots were beautiful, and Alex confirmed they would like the bottle. Jacques teased, “Who knows? It could be the start of a beautiful love story.”

Aliya excused herself for the restroom while Jacques was packing the champagne. When she returned, the champagne was shown to her, packed in a beautiful clear wrap tied with two red and white silk ribbons. They were escorted to their car, with Jacques holding the bags. The bags were in the car, and Aliya thanked Jacques for a beautiful time. They were off.

There was no traffic, and they would be at Alex’s house in thirty minutes.

“May I ask you something? You can feel free not to answer.” She asked, breaking the five-minute silence.

“Sure.” He said eagerly but nervously.

“Did you reserve the private room just for us? The decorations, plate settings, and crystal. It didn’t match the rest of the restaurant.”

He took a gulp and said, “Yes. I wanted the ambiance to be perfect.” “Was it perfect?”

“Yes, it was.” Replied Aliya with a smile.

The rest of the ride was quiet. They were on a tiny hill with an electric long black metal gate. He opened the gate, and all the lights turned on. It was a beautiful red-bricked house fortified by a tall red brick wall. Under the lights, it looked like a castle. They drove into the long driveway, and the Iron Gate closed behind them.

“You were underselling the garden. It is beautiful,” she said.

At the end of the driveway was the entrance to the house. The driveway circled an Italian marble fountain. Alex circled the driveway and parked the car at the garden’s entry so that the car’s front was now facing the Iron Gate. She opened the door, and Alex helped her out, holding her hand. She caught a whiff of jasmine flowers, and they smelled divine. Alex guided her to the garden’s main walkway around the house. The walkway was lined with flower shrubs on both sides. As they walked a little further, there was lush green grass and marble fountains.

Her heel got caught in the bricks, and she nearly fell when Alex held her.

“Not suitable for heels.” She said, taking her shoes off.

“I can get you some slippers.”

“No. Could you hold this, please?” She bent down, picked up her train, and handed it to him. She adjusted the gown, took the train from his hand, and stepped on the grass. She felt the grass like a captive lioness had been set free for the first time in the jungle. He stood there and watched her as she walked around smelling flowers and flicking water from the fountains.

“I hope it is ok that I am walking on grass.” Said Aliya, suddenly aware of her actions.

“Yes, of course.” He said, coming out of the trance. “May I carry anything for you?” he said, pointing to the shoes and the clutch.

“You may hold my train while you walk me around.”

He held her train and escorted her by his arm.

“How old is the house?” asked Aliya, looking at the house.

“It was built in 1886 by Queen Victoria.”

“Really?” said Aliya enthusiastically.

“No idea. My parents have owned the house since I was a kid. I decided to move here when I graduated.”

“What made you choose Seattle?”

“I had a bad breakup in Boston and wanted to put as many miles between us as possible. Seattle seemed like a good choice without leaving the country.”

“I am sorry. What happened?”

“Would you mind if we do not talk about it today?”

“Of course. So, the house?”

“The house. It is red-bricked, with six bedrooms, five bathrooms, and some other rooms.”

“You don’t know anything about it, do you?” she said as they had nearly circled the house.

Alex smiled. “Not at all. But my bedroom has a balcony, and you can see the sea and the Olympic Mountains. N…N…not that I know we will end up there. N…Nothing wrong with if we do.”

“Are you still nervous?”

“Very!” He stopped and turned towards her to say something. But he felt a raindrop on his face. Few more, and it was pouring. He dropped her trail to remove his jacket when she opened her arms. With shoes in one hand and her clutch in the other, she walked on the grass, misty with raindrops. Her face looked at the sky, and raindrops were caressing her cheeks and neck. They were standing in the rain for ten minutes when he walked up to her and moved a lock of hair above her eyes. She looked at him and took a small step towards him, inches between them. Just then, her trail pulled, and with the heavy rain, it was getting muddy.

“Oh no, my dress,” she said, picking her trail. She was fumbling with it when Alex picked her up. Her arm was around his neck, and he carried her through the walkway, over the steps, and into the living room. She was completely drenched and suddenly very aware of it. He could sense that she was feeling uncomfortable.

“You can leave your shoes here and come to the balcony to enjoy the rain. There is no dirt there. There is another balcony with the view of Seattle and not in the bedroom.”

“Ok!”

He removed his jacket, tie, shoes, and belt and emptied his pockets. She found a place for her shoes and her clutch and took off her watch. She opened her wet hair. He guided her up the stairs and a balcony it was. It opened the door from the sitting room and was the length of a car. It had five big floor-to-ceiling windows, and one of the long glasses slid to form an entrance. She could see the lights of the city, and it was beautiful. They were standing in the rain, looking at the beautiful view.

“I miss the feeling of rain on my face,” she said with her face towards the sky, catching the raindrops on her skin. “I have no grass, no open space to run and fall in the rain. Your house is beautiful.”

“Thanks. Would you like to dance?”

“Do you have music here?”

“No. But I don’t think we need it.” He picked her trail and held her hand up to his chest. Her other hand went on his shoulder, and they danced to the music of rain. Slowly, with every turn, he pulled her closer. Her lips were nearly touching his, and her eyes were closed. His lips softly embraced her lips for a few seconds. Her eyes were still closed. Very softly, he touched her lips again, pulled her closer, and kissed her. He moved his hand upwards slowly on her bareback, and she could feel the lighting go through her body which was even brighter than the storm outside.

They were standing still in the rain, kissing. They both were breathing heavily when they broke the kiss after nearly a minute. He held her hand, but his other hand was in her hair. He was slowly stroking her cheek with his thumb. Their foreheads were touching, with their chins facing away from each other. Before she could fully catch her breath, he dropped the trail on the floor, pulled her closer with the other hand, and kissed her passionately again.

It was a passionate kiss with both their mouths open. His tongue was caressing the outline of her lip, and she was melting in his arms. Her hand was on his back, and the other was fondling his hair. Her hands went to his shirt, and she tore the shirt off his chest. She felt the grooves of his abs when he held her hand and pushed her against the glass pane.

Both her hands were above her head, and he looked at her face. He kissed her and let go of her hands which dropped on his back. He held her face with one hand, and his other hand caressed her bare side. She dropped her hands to his pants and unbuttoned them. Her hands followed the border of the pants on his chest, and before he knew it, she unzipped them, and they fell to the floor.

He held her hands, put them back above her head, and kissed her neck. Her face dropped to the other side, and he slid his hands up her arms to hold her hands pinned against the glass. He walked out of the pants and slowly moved his hands along her arms to her shoulder. He reached around her back and pulled the zip on her lower back. He was kissing her again. He then moved her hands to the back of her neck, caught the little bow, and pulled on it. The dress fell to the ground with the weight of the beading. They were kissing bare-chested in the rain.

He picked her up and moved her to the next room. He gently laid her on the bed and sat beside her, caressing her face. She lifted her hand to his face, and they soon kissed again. He shifted from the side of the bed to on top of her while continuing the kiss. He moved down and started kissing her neck, moving to her shoulder and the top of her breast.

He moved down and kissed her right nipple, and her upper body lifted from the electricity of touch. He slowly sucked on it, and she clutched the bedsheet with her hands with pleasure. He moved to the other nipple and did the same thing, and her hand moved to the back of his neck. He kissed her stomach and took off her golden-laced panty. He kissed the opening, and she withered with pleasure under him as he caressed her clit with his finger, and an orgasm followed.

She tried to catch her breath when he started kissing her neck again. He was positioned at the entrance, and his tip could feel the heat coming from her. He slowly moved forward when his tip stroked her lips. With one small push, she lifted her hips, and he was inside her. She let out a small cry, and he realized she was a virgin.

“Are you ok?”

She nodded yes, and they continued kissing. He looked at her face and into her eyes and kissed her while moving further and further into her. While at the edge, he steadied his position and broke the kiss. Gently, he started sliding in and out of her when he couldn’t control it anymore. He cum inside her with the most powerful orgasm he had ever felt. He fell with all the weight on top of her but moved beside her using his last strength. They were both out of breath and lying next to each other.

“Are you ok?” he asked, pulling the blanket over them. Suddenly, he felt cold.

“Yes.”

“Did I hurt you?” He turned on his side towards her and slipped his arm under his head to support it.

“No. I am fine.” Said Aliya with a smile that gave Alex a sense of relief.

His other hand was playing with her hair.

“Can you stay over tonight? Have breakfast with me tomorrow.”

“Ok. But I need to be home before 10 for brunch.”

He kissed her. “Thank you so much for tonight. I had an amazing time.”

“As did I.”

He fell back on the bed. “We should get out of this damp bed. You can use the bathroom here and then come over across the hall. There are fresh towels and some clothes in the closet. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“Some still water, please. Thank you.”

He kissed her and used the sheet under the blanket to wrap himself as he slid out of bed. He closed the door behind him.

She smiled and jumped out of bed. She took a quick shower. After drying herself, she walked over to the closet and was about to pick the robe when she saw a blue t-shirt. She touched it, and it felt very soft. She was reminded, “Maybe it is the same t-shirt he wore to the mall.” It smelled like his cologne, very refreshing.

She decided to wear it, which was a few sizes too big. It barely covered all of her. She was about to leave when she saw her panties hanging off the bed. She quickly picked them up and rinsed them in the sink. She didn’t know where to put them, but then she thought of her dress. She went outside to pick it up from the balcony, but it was already gone.

She slowly walked towards the bedroom with her panties crushed in her hands. The door was open. She walked in and closed it behind her. Alex was standing by the balcony door, bare-chested, looking outside when the noise of the closing door made him turn around.

“I hope it’s ok that I am wearing your t-shirt.” Said Aliya pulling on the t-shirt.

“Yes.” He said with a smile. Somehow wearing his oversized t-shirt had made her even hotter. It was like, instead of the t-shirt, he was draped around her.

He snapped out of his thoughts and continued, “I hung your dress over the bathtub to dry. If you want to check,” He said, pointing towards the bathroom door. She went in, and it was perfectly hung. She placed her panties on the same hanger under the dress.

“It’s good,” she said, exiting the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure if I should put it in the dryer.”

“It would have shrunk from an evening gown to a mini dress.” She said, smiling.

He laughed. The balcony door was slightly open, and the wind from outside was playing with his hair. She approached him and said, “So this is the balcony with the view.”

He moved behind her and placed his arms around her. His face was on her shoulder. “Yes, but with the night and the rain, you can’t see anything. It will look beautiful in the morning.”

She shivered, perhaps from his kiss on her neck or the cold draft of wind.

“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing her shiver.

“A bit.”

He picked her up and moved her to the bed. He picked the blanket from one side and climbed underneath it with her. He was facing her with his arm under his head.

Playing with her hair, he asked, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How old are you?”

“I am fifteen. Why?”

“I just need to know how big of a lawyer to hire in case we get caught tonight.”

They both laughed. “When is your birthday?” asked Alex.

“Mar 28”.

“Four weeks! My lawyer can handle that.”

“How old are you?”

“I am 22. I turn 23 on October 26. How long are your parents staying?”

“They usually fly back on Sunday night after dinner.”

“How about dinner Monday?”

She smiled. “I can’t during the weekdays. Too much work for school.”

“Are you a sophomore?”

“Junior. I skipped a few grades.”

“e too. I graduated at fifteen, a bachelor at eighteen, and a Ph.D. at 21.”

“You are really smart.”

“No, not really. You will find out. What is your favourite subject?”

“Maths, and I love debates.”

“With all the books you read, you must be good at debates. Have you competed nationally?”

“Yes, few national awards. Nothing major.”

“You are too modest. How about Friday, then?”

She laughed. “How about Saturday?”

“Great. It’s a date.”

“Would you like to know what I said to Jacques?”

“Yes.”

“I told him I was unsure if I was on a date. My date is very hot, and I want it to go well. Please don’t let me get drunk as I haven’t eaten anything today. Jacques told me not to worry and he would ensure my water glass was full. He will not top off my champagne glass as often.”

Alex laughed and fell back to the bed, happy that he had the next date and she liked him. She rolled over, found a place for her head in a nook between his shoulder and chest, and rested her hand on his bare chest. He put his hand over hers and closed his eyes. By the stroke of two, they were both fast asleep.