Rendezvous at Dusk

Esmerelda glanced at the pink buds blooming on the limb's end outside her window. She wished he might poetically reduce the tint of her full mouth to the brillant shade of innocence those flowers sang. But how could he? She hadn't yet spoken to him. And she wouldn't, although her flatmate and best friend, Allie, prodded and probed and perforce interrogated her on the lack of gumption she possessed. No, Essie was old fashioned and meek, and for now the only help she allowed Allie to bestow on her was the use of the hot rollers on the vanity.
Essie flinched when her mocha fingers touched the sizzling plastic-coated metal. It was no use. She wasn't sure what had ever made her think that curls bouncing in her raven locks would capture his attention.
"He will notice because you will make him notice, dear. First rule of womanhood - flaunt your assets. A man who sees a lake of voluminous tresses such as yours is only going to imagine one thing. His hands. Threaded through. In the Throes. Of. Passion."
Allie had grinned knowingly, the diamond on her finger glinting as they stood at the jewelry counter on Third Avenue.
"You're only asking the Flirt of the Year, of course, so I completely understand if you deem me an uncredible source."
Allie had a intermittent itch to visit the local jewelers and try on the newest inventory. She always insisted to the clerk that she was happily single - it was merely something she was trying on for size. Allie laughed at the idea of committment. Sometimes Essie laughed with her, but mostly she felt sorry for Allie. She knew a facade when she saw one. She was the posterchild for disguises, after all.
And so she sighed deeply and curled the black silk of her hair around the first roller, setting it with the grave air of one resigned to failure.

_______________________________________

Laughter and sunshine burst into the quiet room later that day as Essie finished donning the black sweater mother sent last week.
Allie stopped short.
"Oh my dear Essie. What have we here? No, no, no. This shall not do. He'll never kiss you while you appear in mourning!"
"But it isn't as if he has even asked me out! Let alone spoken to me...what makes you think I shall ever receive a kiss?"
"Ha! With that attitude, nothing does!"
Allie skipped to her overflowing closet. "I know you like to wear my things on occasion but this time we are going all out!"
She set out the sleek red dress straight out of the local vintage shop with a flourish. Essie's eyes grew huge.
"How ridiculous. Whereever would I wear a contraption like that? Remember, it was your idea to 'accidentally meet on purpose.' What shall I tell him when the question in his eyes begs to know why I am dressed like I'm attending a 40's Detective Lollpalooza?"
Allie's gaze was full of challenge.
"I don't know, Esmerelda. You're the one with all the stories. Why not play pretend when you by chance fall into step with him at half past five this evening? Spice of life, my dear. You gotta add it to the mix or you'll taste just the same as everyone else."

______________________________________

Essie felt like Cinderella. She was most certainly as conspicuous as the fairytale maiden right now. The bench in Hyde Park was growing colder beneath the scarlet fabric of her dress as the wind blew in the remnants of winter's chill. More than one handsome pair of eager eyes had taken in the sight of her there beneath the blooming dogwoods, and against her will Essie felt her blood run hot with appreciation.
It wouldn't be long now till she caught sight of the light brown tweed of his coat. Surely he would be passing this way and she rehearsed the ludicrous scene in her head as she remembered that Allie said the right story would come.

Oh god, there he was. Essie was certain the cinnamon and chocolate plaid coat adorning his lean frame must have been passed through more than one generation. It was worn, but it looked well loved, and for that its threadbare cords were dear. Strong fingers clasped the handle of his briefcase and she wondered at this for she had always thought him to be a satchel sort of guy. No matter. He was coming her way and she found she was having trouble breathing as each step brought him closer to her cold bench.
From a safe distance her eyes searched his face, that beautiful sculpture of fine white marble, cheekbones carved high and straight, the set of his mouth tinted with hints of secrets. She found herself aching to know those secrets, and she wondered what this young professor had to hide.
She didn't want to speak first. What would she say? What reason would she give for randomly bursting out with a salutation she was sure would wobble and squeak?
But leave it to her hero to save the day.
His brown loafer stepped even with her bench.
"Well, hello," he said, dark chocolate laced through with a honeyed American accent.
Speak to him, you dope!!!
Allie flitted through her thoughts - "Spice of life..."
Essie didn't want to taste the same as everyone else. Cue the grand actress.
"Hello yourself." Her voice was throaty, more so than she had meant it to be, but she recalled that great American sex symbol, Scarlett Johannson, and she kept the husk in her tone.
"Beautiful evening," she purported, hoping it might spur a conversation.
"Indeed, midnight stars are my favorite. New York was never big on open sky," he chuckled somewhat ruefully. "Say, don't I know you? Forgive my frankness, but you just seem familiar."
Her thoughts flew harriedly. Had he caught her watching him those Tuesday afternoons in the library? She often sat mesmerized by the alabaster of his brow furrowed over midterm papers, the diligent scratching of his red pen, the way he took his coffee black in that styrofoam cup. God she sounded pathetic. She hadn't meant to watch him all the time, but the library was her dearest friend on days that Allie had a date - which was most of the time - and so it was only natural that she should find him there on occasion.
"The library," he said jovially, startling her from her reverie. She was encouraged by his tone.
"Y-yes, I'm there occasionally."
"Yes. Oh I know! Last Tuesday you borrowed Anna Karenina. Tolstoy? I remember thinking how impressive it was that you chose to read it of your own accord."
Essie looked at him in confusion.
"I uh, I overheard you tell the librarian that you wanted to read it a second time now that you were older." He grinned sheepishly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."
Joy bubbled up in her throat and erupted in a relieved giggle, one she hoped he didn't realize was bordering on hysteria.
"I do love Tolstoy so. And Dante and Shakespeare and Hugo. Karachi was never big on modern novels so I found myself a friend of the Greats. Not that I'm complaining, of course."
"Karachi, eh? I was there once, when I was twenty.That was five years ago, although I know I don't appear a day over fifteen." He grinned at her. "I was most enthralled by the colors. It's like the shades of my soul were splashed on every street corner. I flashed away with my camera, eager to bring that vibrance back home to my apartment in Manhattan. Later I found that my photos didn't turn out the way my eyes took in the scene but I wasn't really disappointed. I just tucked the memory away and vowed to go back one day. Speaking of colors, that's quite a dress you've got on there."
The moment of fact or fiction. No way could she tell him the truth, so she spurted out what Allie was most likely to say - that she had gotten ditched by her date to the opera and wasn't that the most scandalous thing he'd ever heard?
"We were supposed to meet here, and have dinner across the street and well, I decided to make the most of the evening by having a conversation with my favorite bench."
She smiled at him.
He smiled back. A bigger smile than hers, even.
He glanced at his watch.
"Well, I know I'm probably not much compared with that grand date you had - that dress is enough to woo even the most hardened of hearts."
She felt the brown smoothness of her skin heat with a flush at his bold words.
"Still, Mr. Sun is going to bed soon and there is the best coffee joint around the corner and down the next alley. Sounds shady, I know, and I'm sure we look like a couple straight out of Hitchcock's classics, but I'm willing to bet I'm more interesting than that maple bench you've replaced as your date. And I know you're certainly much too beautiful for such a drab companion. So whaddya say we give it a go?"
What did she say? She sang a thousand hallelujahs to the distant hills in her heart but outside she merely cocked her head to the side and relished his admiring green gaze. She took his offered hand and rose to stand beside him, almost swooning at the height he was afforded by his Creator.
"I'd love to. By the way, I'm Essie."
He winked at her.
"Alex Von Sky, at your service."