The Key

Miranda wasn't really listening to her friend however, but she was wondering what the old woman had meant by telling her to let the key be the guide to unlocking the secrets of her own heart. And though those might not have been the exact words, Miranda somehow felt that that was the very meaning behind what the old woman had told her.

They soon after said good-bye to one another, departing off to work and another busy day. Shortly after arriving at her own office, Miranda quickly attached the tiny silver key to the much newer, much nicer chain she was already wearing around her neck. Not too surprisingly, she caught herself gently fingering the dainty ornament several times during the day, the words turning over and over within her mind each and every time she touched it. Almost like a mantra being stated as she attempted to make sense out of the words spoken to her by the crazy, weird looking old lady.

"Let the key be your guide to unlocking the secrets of your heart!"

Over and over she repeated it to herself, surprised when she looked up to realize it was already well past quitting time. She was to meet her husband Bill at one of their favorite restaurants for dinner prior to going home. Easier that way as it was closer for each of them to do so rather than driving all the way home and then returning. Dinner reservations were for six, so she still had plenty of time as it was a reasonably short drive over. And if nothing else, she'd probably have a few minutes to spare to have a quick glass of wine at the bar while waiting for Bill to arrive. Time enough to think, wondering if she would even share the days adventure with her husband, deciding against it as she retrieved her purse heading out the door of her office.

#

Miranda arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes to six, plenty of time to enjoy a glass of wine while waiting for her husband to arrive. She ordered a glass of Chardonnay, reaching into her purse only then realizing she didn't have a damn dime to her name! She'd spent every cent of cash she'd had on herself for the key, which even now she reached up to finger without thinking. She could certainly put the drink on her credit card, but she felt foolish in having to do so. Bill would no doubt question the minor charge when they worked through the bills together. And though he would care less if she'd spent her money on the tiny silver key, he would in fact raise some objection to her being so frivolous with their credit card.

The bartender stood waiting patiently. Miranda felt her face flush with embarrassment, as the indecision of what to do seemed to take on a life of its own. She started to push the untouched wine glass back towards the bartender when she heard the sound of a man's voice just behind her, simultaneously catching movement just out of the corner of her eye as he began to seat himself down next to her.

"Let me get that," he'd said. "And I'll have one of the same," he added immediately.

Miranda was now even more confused than she'd been a moment earlier. She didn't know whether to thank this strange man profusely, or to act indignant and decline the already purchased drink as she'd seen a twenty dollar bill thrown down onto the counter top, the bartender immediately swiping it up as though knowing Miranda might very well decline the man's offer. She turned to face towards him, still undecided as to what her reaction would be, when she all but swallowed her tongue.

"Hello again!" The dark handsome looking guy sitting next to her said smiling. It was the same man Miranda had briefly shared a look with earlier that morning.

"Brad Edwards," he stated still smiling, extending his hand out towards her in a more official greeting. "Thought I recognized you from earlier this morning, wanted to at least introduce myself, and offer to buy you a drink as it was obvious you'd either misplaced your wallet, or something else had happened to it," he continued now showing a look of real concern on his face for the loss of whatever money she might indeed once had with her.

He pointed back over his shoulder near the door. "I'd just come in, thought I'd recognized you like I said, when I realized by your look as you fished through your purse that something was wrong. Thought I'd put on my suit of armor and come over and rescue the damsel in distress."

Miranda grinned in spite of herself. "Thank you," she said demurely. "I really appreciate that."

"Would you care to join me for dinner?" he questioned next.

For the briefest of moments, she actually entertained the idea. "Actually, my..."

Her cell phone rang interrupting what she was just about to tell him.

"Excuse me," she said feeling herself blushing all over again as she reached for her purse, feeling extremely awkward. To her surprise, she saw Brad stand pointing towards the restrooms with a boyish grin on his face. She answered, saying hello before covering the mouthpiece with her hand, nodding in understanding towards him before turning her attention back to the call.

"Miranda?" she heard Bill asking in what was an obvious exasperated tone of voice. Obviously, he'd already questioned if she was there.

"I'm here!" she said just a bit too cheerfully.

"Listen, I'm sorry but the meetings still going on, looks like I'll be stuck here at least another hour, perhaps even two. Why don't you go ahead and have dinner without me? If I can, I'll try and make it for desert. But if I'm not there in say an hour and a half, I'll just meet you at home ok?"

Miranda heard herself sigh into the phone. She really had been looking forward to dinner, her appetite ravenous, as she'd been considering one of her favorite dishes all day. "Well ok, but I doubt I'll stick around for desert," she stated letting him know in so doing that she wasn't real happy with being stood up.

"Probably a good idea if we just meet up at home then," he told her simply. "I'll grab something to eat on my way home. See you later." And with that, Bill clicked off without waiting for any kind of a response from his wife. Miranda sat staring at her phone momentarily, irritated though she couldn't quite put her finger on why she was as upset as she was. Bill was after all a very good provider and had given her just about everything she could ever want. Financial security, a nice home...everything but intimacy and romance. In that department, Bill had failed miserably.

Miranda had no sooner finished putting her cell phone back inside her purse when she saw Brad's approach, still smiling at her with that boyish grin. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

"So? Interested in getting something to eat?" he asked her once again.

This time, she barely hesitated. "Sure...why not?"

Gathering fresh drinks, they were soon seated to a cozy little corner booth, semi-circular facing out towards the rest of the diners, yet far enough away to provide them some measure of intimate privacy as well as being sufficiently secluded from the nearest seated table to ensure their conversation wouldn't be overheard either.

"You know, I still don't know your name yet," he began repositioning himself slightly a tad-bit closer to her without closing the distance too much between them to make her feel crowded or uncomfortable.

She laughed, "Miranda..." Miranda caught herself, she'd decided against giving him her last name, leaving it with giving Brad only her first for the moment. He sensed her uneasiness picking up one of the menus that lay on the table in front of them.

"What's good here anyway? First time I've ever decided to stay here for dinner," Brad told her.

"Guess it depends on what you want to spend," she said casually eyeing her own menu now, glad for the awkward reprieve she'd been given. Glancing over the menu herself, she once again realized that this time she would have to put the expense on her credit card, but under the circumstances, Bill wouldn't dare question her on it as he'd basically stood her up for their planned dinner.

"I rarely concern myself with the prices," he said simply without even glancing up towards her. "Feel free to chose whatever it is you'd like to eat," he added only then looking up towards her expectantly.

"Dutch!" Miranda smiled back.

Brad shook his head no. "I asked you to have dinner with me, you accepted, so it's my treat. So...order whatever it is that you'd like. How's the Salmon here anyway?" once again glancing back down towards the menu.

"It's good, matter of fact, I was thinking about ordering that myself."

Their waiter appeared as though on cue, filling their water glasses. "Are we ready to order yet?" he asked them.

They spent the next twenty minutes while eating their salads, enjoying small talk, discussing the freakish windstorm that had blown through the city days earlier, and very little about themselves. As they spoke, Miranda noticed Brad politely toying with his miniature tomatoes, pushing them nonchalantly off to one side of his plate.

"I take it you don't care for tomatoes?" she asked having already consumed both of her own.

"Not really, no." he said surprising her as he then forked one of the small morsels holding his fork up towards her. Miranda surprised herself, opening her mouth just wide enough to accept the proffered enticement allowing Brad to slip it easily inside her mouth where she took it, feeling the fork withdraw slowly as Brad pulled it away. It was a simple act, but a personal one especially under the circumstances. Miranda felt the heat rise to her face almost guiltily as she politely began chewing the succulent fruit.

She noticed that Brad had somehow managed to scoot even closer to her having performed this particular feat without her really knowing it. She felt only the briefest of contact between their legs, hardly noticeable, and so inconsequential that she felt neither alarmed nor uncomfortable by the sudden sharing of her space. If anything, that physical touch between them sent signals that suddenly made her glad she'd worn pantyhose beneath her skirt though that was all she was wearing.

Miranda lifted her napkin in order to wipe the corner of her mouth, feeling as she did the slightest additional touch of Brad's fingernail against her neck as he caught, then lifted the tiny silver key.

"That's an interesting little piece," he told her. "Very delicate, very beautiful, just as it's wearer is."

Once again, that barest of touches sent an electrical shock coursing through her entire being. She was surprised at the intensity of it, feeling her nipples actually harden with announced anticipation, additionally thankful that she'd worn her business jacket though she knew the slightest move one way or the other would most likely reveal the presence of one or the other of her large extended nubbins.

"Thank you, I just purchased it today," she stated.

Though Miranda leaned back ever so slightly, breaking the contact with his fingertip, she did not however scoot away from him on the seat. She knew that to do so would send him a message, and one she wasn't sure she wanted to send him, though cautious enough in having leaned slightly away to let him know that her intent was to be cautious, and move slowly here.

Their waiter arrived with the main course, already beginning to clear away their salad dishes. As he began, Miranda felt Brad shift once again, only this time, instead of closer to her if that were even possible, he moved away slightly. She found herself suddenly disappointed, amazed she would feel so even though the distance between them was still a lot closer than most anyone else seated around the establishment. Nevertheless, Miranda felt a pang of loss, silly that she would feel such a thing over so simple of a movement.

As the waiter retrieved Brad's salad dish, Miranda spotted the lone single tomato as it threatened to roll off the plate and onto the table. On impulse, she gathered up her fork. "Wait!" she actually exclaimed, spearing the tiny red ball retrieving it, noticing as she did the approved, playful expression spreading across Brad's face.

"I was going to ask if you'd like the other one, but I didn't want to push things," he told her, telling her in a unique way that this wasn't really all about the tomato.

She could only smile, nodding to the waiter that he could finish as she drew the tasty delicacy off the fork with her lips, doing so a lot slower than she might do otherwise, enjoying the amused expression on Brad's face as he watched her. Even the waiter paused, suddenly as caught up in this sensual moment as Brad had been. Only when it became too obvious that the waiter was actually staring at her did he suddenly turn, nearly tumbling their empty plates onto the tray, recovering just enough to smoothly begin serving them their main course.

After their waiter had left, Brad laughed.

"What?" Miranda asked knowing full well what had just happened here between them.

Brad shook his head slightly from side to side already beginning to sever a small morsel of his Salmon with a knife. Miranda began doing the same, shifting her position slightly as she prepared to attack her dinner, and found herself closing the gap between them as once again the contact between her thigh and his was accomplished. She felt a subtle movement from him, though rather than shifting away, he seemed to press gingerly against her in eager welcome, just enough to signal her that he liked the now more permanent contact, as did she.

Unlike before, they now sat eating in near silence more formally enjoying their dinner though occasionally smiling at one another with their eyes. The periodic shifts of their bodies while they ate a constant reminder of one another's presence, an ongoing form of semi-innocent foreplay that was still having every bit as much the same affect as had he been intimately touching or caressing her.

Miranda reached towards her wine glass, feeling her napkin suddenly slide from her lap onto the floor. She made an attempt to retrieve it, too late.

"Allow me," Brad said hunching over slightly as he extended his arm beneath the table. But rather than giving it back to her, he wadded the discarded item into a ball setting it down on the far corner, catching the eye of a passing waiter as he did. "Would you get a fresh napkin for the lady?" he asked, "and two more glasses of wine too please."

This bit of chivalry not only pleased, but flattered Miranda immensely. She felt her cheeks redden once again, returning to her dinner, forgetting momentarily she no longer had a napkin within her lap automatically reaching to find it, and finding instead the hard firm muscle of Brad's thigh as her hand briefly came into contact with it. He neither reacted one way or the other, and to her own surprise, Miranda allowed her hand to linger a moment longer actually giving him an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you," she told him, only then retrieving her hand as though it had been her intent to have touched, while thanking him in this way all along.

To her immediate surprise, she found her mind wandering, time suddenly standing still as she imagined, wondering the distance where her hand had so briefly rested, and to where his maleness obviously sat. As aroused, as wet as she found herself, she wondered too if he was as aroused as she, and upon closing that small distance, would she have indeed discovered his excitement? "Was he?" she found herself actually thinking.

Miranda felt a small droplet of perspiration gather between her breasts. "Whew! It's a little hot in here don't you think?" she questioned suddenly. Miranda wasn't exactly sweating profusely here, but she knew that if she continued to sit there even wearing her lightweight jacket, she would be.

"I was about to mention the same thing myself," Brad responded. "Would you like me to help you with your jacket?" he asked, already reaching over towards her where she again shifted, this time facing away slightly as he helped her in its removal. "Better?"

"Oh yes, much!" she grinned settling back into her seat as Brad reached around her shoulders gently placing her jacket over the head rest of their booth safely out of the way, yet leaning so close to her that she could almost taste him, let alone finding her head swimming dizzily in the subtle fragrance of his cologne.

Once again she felt the heat spread between her legs, the additional flow of wanton excitement, knowing full well that her now exposed nipples were no doubt pressing anxiously against the thin material of her blouse.

No one but perhaps her best friend Darlene knew of the Sultry, Wanton, Vixen that hid herself just below the surface. Whenever she was in public, Miranda was for the most part shy and somewhat reserved, certainly never a hint of the hot, erotic sensual woman that enjoyed being set free once in a while to explore and so openly enjoy herself. Even her friend Silvia was unaware of some of the things Miranda allowed her imagination to periodically explore.

But she could just hear Darlene leaning over to whisper to her, "M.J., you're high beams are on honey!" she'd state with a giggle and a reassuring approval enjoying Miranda's embarrassed discomfort.

They continued on with their dinner, Miranda grateful that she'd eaten as the third and final glass of wine she'd consumed already alerting her to a giddiness that though not bordering on being really drunk in anyway, was telling her that her guard was down slightly as her normal reserved persona was being threatened by the needful emergence of the sensual woman she truly knew herself to be.

Miranda glanced at her watch. They'd been there well over an hour. And though the likelihood of her husband now arriving to join her was remote, the thought of that mere possibility sent a slight panic through her mind, chasing away that light-headedness and reminding her that she was treading on very dangerous thin ice here.

"I really should be going," she announced abruptly. "My husband will be waiting for me." Miranda turned retrieving her jacket. "There, I said it," she told herself. "Now he knows for certain I am married," though she'd made no movement nor attempt to hide the wedding rings she'd been wearing all night either.

Brad had already received the check having passed on dessert. She'd watched as he'd almost secretly folded a number of bills inside the black leather folder he'd been given with an itemized display of their dinner and drinks. Brad had only briefly glanced at it before inserting their payment, obviously having included a sizeable tip from which he neither expected nor wanted a return of change.

"Where's your car?" he asked helping her back on with her jacket.

"Oh, it's just around the corner," she announced. "Not far, so there's no need to worry about me."

He gave her a puzzled look. "You really don't expect me not to escort you do you?" he stated incredulously. "Even though this is a nice neighborhood and all, there's still one or two creeps that could be lurking about out there you know. I'll see you safely to your car!" It wasn't a request. Miranda actually smiled at his offer, silently accepting it as they walked from the restaurant out onto the sidewalk heading off towards her car. When he took hold of her hand, she allowed it, accepting the warmth and firmness of him as her own fingers interlocked deliciously with his.

It really was a short walk as they arrived at the parking lot where her car was. "Over here," she announced now leading the way. Using her key to unlock the door electronically, the familiar 'beep' reached both their ears several steps away from actually arriving by its side. "Well, this is me," Miranda stated opening the car door, feeling a bit more awkward now and unsure of herself, or the situation.

"Listen, I won't ask you for your number," he began. But she watched as he fished a piece of paper from his pocket that he'd obviously already written his own number down on. It was apparent he'd done so while she'd excused herself to use the restroom shortly after finishing dinner. "I hope...you really will call me. Perhaps we can have lunch, or maybe share a cup of coffee together at the café," he said reminding her of their first meeting.