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A Date With A Difference: Part 1 free porn video
A Date With a Difference: Part 1
By Harvey Belth
Oddly, he was not nervous. With so many things that could go
wrong his mind seemed to have switched off all adrenaline
producing glands and he had a serene calmness about him, almost a
confidence that belied his throbbing anxiety. What if he didn't
like her? What if she didn't like him? What if?? So many
questions, too few answers. Better not to think, that was the
answer, make like a strawberry and just be sweet he decided.
After all, they had chatted on the Internet and on the phone and
if nothing else, he knew they would be able to have a fun
conversation.
He had it timed to perfection and with the jaunty gait of a 5
year old on the way to a birthday party; he walked around the
revolving hotel lobby door at exactly 8 o'clock and headed for
the lift. He half expected the receptionist to stop him and ask
where he was going. He'd got an answer for this; he was, quite
naturally, going to room 136 to meet his date for the evening.
But what if the receptionist had been the one who had checked his
date in to the hotel? What if she put two and two together and
made four (or probably more than that)? Would she say anything or
let him ascend to find that his date wasn't quite what she
expected he expected? He'd played the scenario out in his mind
until he had come to what was obviously a logical set of
arguments to assuage any potentially astute receptionists (are
there such things?).
Thankfully there was no receptionist; in fact the lobby seemed
almost totally empty. Still feeling relaxed yet charged with
excitement he pressed the lift's button for the thirteenth floor.
With a dull ping reminiscent of hitting a sock-covered bell with
a carrot, the lift arrived at the thirteenth floor and he stepped
out. A veteran of far too many hotels from business trips of the
past, he immediately looked for the familiar and comforting sign
to tell him whether to go left or right and as sure as Bond gets
the girl, there it was. Rooms 131 to 135 to the left and 136 to
140 to the right.
A flash of panic came across him and all of a sudden every pore
in his body seemed to emit a tiny, freezing cold droplet of
sweat. He shivered slightly and regained his composure. Where had
that come from? He put it down to the air conditioning in the
hotel; these things are always set to in some way ruin your
body's chances of working normally. In hot climates they set the
inside temperature of the hotel to minus 5 degrees so that when
you step in from the outside, the sweat on your body freezes
rendering you unable to move until your body heat balances out
the cold air. Come to think of it, in cold climates, they also
set the air conditioning to minus 5 so that when you step out it
feels warm and your memories of your holiday in Latvia are that
it was such a lovely place and nowhere as near as cold as people
say. So that must be it, it was the air conditioning. His
superior powers of logic triumphed again as he turned right to
head for his destiny.
So there he was, in front of the door of room 136 at just after
8pm. But what if he had remembered the room number wrong? Why
didn't he bother to write it down? After all, he had no other way
of contacting her. What if the door opened to some obese German
tourist, or worse, what if there was no response at all? He put
his fears into the box labelled 'you really are a twat sometimes'
and knocked on the door. It couldn't have been more than 5
seconds before she answered but it felt like an hour.
The door slowly opened and from behind it peered a genteel,
nervous face. He almost daren't look, but look he did. She was
fabulous. No question about it. Just in that instant he knew that
they were going to have a good time and then another question ran
through his mind, what if she didn't feel the same about him. No
time for that now, he knew that he had to reassure her
immediately that it was alright.
"You look fabulous," he blurted. How come that in the films they
can come out with lines like, "You are as radiant as the first
bloom on a sunny spring morning!" whereas all he could manage was
the childish dribblings of a some spotty teenager after being
told by his father as his date arrived that he had to tell her
she looked nice?
She smiled. "Hi Richard," her voice seemed so much more dainty
than on the phone.
He'd experienced this before. He knew that the eyes have a
greater power over the brain than the ears and that now that his
brain had recognised her as a woman, that the fact that her voice
was a potentially telltale sign that things may not be as they
appeared, would not register.
Before he could speak again, he looked her up and down. Her make
up was very sexily done with full pouting lips and those eyes. He
darted his eyes across hers again, so soft and welcoming, like a
baby. Her dress he recognised from one of the pictures she had
sent him, an off-the-shoulder maroon affair, which finished just
above her knees. Black sheer stockings (well, presumably
stockings, he could hardly check there and then) and a fabulous
pair of high heels, exactly what he would have chosen himself,
classy bar sandals. He noticed the ankle chain, the fine make up
and, eventually, the look of slight worry on her face. Time for
reassurance he decided.
They struck up a brief and obviously nervous conversation. She
had said to him when they first mooted the idea of a night in
London that she would love to take the tube one time and she
looked so demure that he was sure that the two of them would look
just like any normal couple. The first challenge, however, was to
get out of the hotel without arousing suspicion. Hand in hand
they took the short, uneventful walk to the lift. The lift was
duly summoned and with its customary carrot and sock ping the
door opened. It was not empty. Inside stood a family of mum, dad
and son. He could feel her squeeze his hand tighter as they
stepped forward into the confined space of the lift. It was only
then that he realised that each of the walls of the lift was
covered in large mirrors, giving the effect of more space but
making everyone's faces appear a multitude of times looking in
different directions.
With customary British aplomb, the lift family stood silently,
not even offering a courteous greeting. The doors closed,
introducing a whole new set of mirrors and reflections. He felt
like he could see their faces in any of about 30 places, and was
sure that the lift family could peer a look at her without even
blinking, but they didn't even seem to breathe, let alone blink.
Maybe they were dummies put in the lift by the hotel management
to give the place a homely feeling. Maybe they were as stunned by
her good looks as he was. Her hand relaxed a little and she
looked up and smiled at him. Somehow they both knew it was going
to be alright, no better than alright, that everything would swim
gracefully along like blossom caught on a soft spring breeze.
The lobby which had before seemed empty was suddenly full of
families checking in for what looked like a wedding party sat
relaxing prior, no doubt, to enduring some pointlessly and
terribly unwitty speeches, or for a disco at which all the
elderly relatives would insist on demonstrating, with a wild
flailing of arms, how they could 'still keep up with you
youngsters'. They looked well in their fineries but she was
classier, more attractive, more striking than any of them.
He was worried that walking any distance in her heels would be
rather painful, though the secretaries at work seemed to do it
all the time. She seemed fine though and the short walk to the
tube station, via a route he had chosen beforehand to avoid a
gaggle of French tourists that were sat by Tower Bridge waiting
for their coach, gave him a chance to relax a little and consider
his situation. Here he was, about to head into central London on
a busy Saturday evening with a very sexy girl who upon very close
inspection might reveal her hidden secret. He smiled, he was very
happy.
Tower Hill tube station was remarkably empty. He had noticed the
tour guides assembling their parties as he had arrived fifteen
minutes ago and they had now departed leaving the area derelict.
With tube fair already checked and the exact change waiting in
his pocket, he quickly got her a ticket. Every practical
eventuality covered, that was his plan for the evening, then
there was nothing to go wrong and they could both spend the time
getting to know each other. They took the stairs down to the
platform whereupon a train arrived almost straight away. He had
even taken good stock of the trains themselves on his way over.
They were all of the type with seats up against opposing walls so
there was little option than to sit down opposite people. Two
girls and a man were sat looking straight at them but to his, and
no doubt even more to her, surprise; they didn't even seem to see
them at all. He had expected a few furtive glances; she had
probably expected a full-scale riot, but nothing.
Changing from one tube line to another at Embankment station was
a taster of things to come. The station was packed. They were
right up against a mass of bodies that somehow seemed to make
their way through the station to the Northern Line platform like
sand in an egg timer, squeezing through each tiny gap then
flowing more freely along the corridors. With his date being only
5 foot 8 tall, even in her heels, she was below eye level for
most people and thus almost invisible. The tube up to Leicester
Square was the same and he stood facing her so as to shield her
from view. A crime really, like putting an egg cover on a Faberge
egg.
If Embankment station had been busy, Leicester Square was the
proverbial nightmare. Thousands of people, many of them tourists
with no idea of which way they were supposed to be going, were
ebbing and flowing along the corridors and through the narrow
openings. It was on the stairs as they ascended to street level
that he noticed, for the first time, that someone was staring at
them. It was a schoolgirl, probably about 16 with ginger pigtails
in her hair. She ran ahead of them pushing her way through the
tide of people on the stairs and then stopped half way up, turned
around and looked with a gleam of mischief in her eye at the pair
of them. As they got close to her, she turned tail and ran to the
top of the stairs where she again stopped and looked at them. His
gorgeous date seemed unfazed but he wasn't certain that she had
seen the young girl, with her being almost a foot shorter than
him. He felt annoyed at the girl, like she had somehow punctured
a part of his illusion, that she had brought an element of
reality into his fairytale date.
The people milling around Leicester Square were too lost to
notice the pair of them as they strolled towards the cinema. Lost
either in a world of touristic confusion or deep in thought as
they ploughed towards whatever venue it was they were heading
aimlessly or determinedly towards. His date seemed like a young
child visiting London for the first time, dazzled by the bright
lights and taken aback by seeing the famous sights that make
London such a tourist Mecca. There was a softness to her that
amplified her femininity making her seem so delicate that his
masculine instinct to protect her was making his heart pound with
pride.
They sailed through the cinema foyer (he had already collected
the tickets) and found their seats. His date had to push past a
number of other people to get to the seat. She seemed to enjoy
rubbing up against the men in the row. Finally they came to rest.
Sitting next to each other in the darkness of the cinema, he
reached out for her hand. Silently they held hands throughout the
film, occasionally whispering to each other.
[To be continued?]
Pansy
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