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Day 20, I read, opening the book to today’s date and to where I’d last left off.
May I be persistent in everything, striving to go after what I want with strength and focus and discipline.
I wave to Coach Kramer as I see him drive off.
Then I think about Stacy’s curvy body and innocent yet sexy eyes, and I smile.
Today’s meditation is an easy one to take to heart.
Chapter 13
Stacy
January may be one of New York’s coldest months, but just like they say it’s always five o’clock somewhere, it’s always summer, somewhere, too. And today, after managing to find my passport just in the nick of time – it was under the mattress of my bed, of all places – in order to go on my date with Elias, I find out that it’s summer in Tierra del Fuego, Argentina.
Yeah.
He actually brought me here for our date!
I want to text Clarice to tell her how beautiful this place is. But I don’t have cell phone service, which, apparently, is a good thing.
There are only so many places that Elias can take me that the press won’t hound us. On his plane on the way over here, he joked that he could keep me hidden here for his pleasure, for a long time until anyone ever found out. I joked back that I’d be a willing captive.
Our flirtation has gotten so obvious. We are no longer in the “hate” part of our hate-slash-love relationship anymore. I guess we haven’t exactly gotten to the “love” part yet, but we’re somewhere in that “slash” stage, which involves a whole lot of lust.
“Here you go, you wonderful people,” says the waiter at our restaurant, in a tone that says “I love rich American tourists,” as he puts some plates of tapas down in front of us.
“Mmmm,” I exclaim, as I look at the delicious array of colorful food.
I don’t know what to eat first, or even what all of it even is, but I’m famished after our long flight.
“Where to start?” I ask out loud.
“Try this,” Elias says, picking up some Argentine cheese from the plate and putting it into my mouth.
“Yum!” I say, enjoying the feel of his fingers in my mouth almost as much as I enjoy the taste of the food.
I can’t help but think about what other body parts of his were down my throat right now. My head spins with anticipation more so than the wine as I realize that tonight’s the night for that to happen.
As soon as I’m done eating the bite of cheese, he’s feeding me salamis, tandil empanadas that are made with chicken, corn, and Argentinian beef, followed by some hot chorizos.
“Is this not the greatest food you have ever had?” he boasts. “I fucking love this little restaurant by the sea.”
“It really is delicious,” I tell him.
“Just wait until you have the main course!”
Sure enough, before we’ve even managed to make a dent in the appetizers, some Argentinian beef with a side of freshwater lobster is brought out. I’ve never dined like this in my entire life. My parents were frugal and lived simple lives. My mother would likely be ashamed at this display of wealth.
But there isn’t much she isn’t ever acting as if I shouldn’t be ashamed of, I remind myself.
I push thoughts of my life in the States behind so that I can enjoy this delicious meal and this date with Elias. I have to admit, I never knew he’d be such a casanova. I’ve tried to go on dates with other guys before, but they were always awkward or stilted. Elias is really pulling out all the stops.
“I’m so stuffed I can barely move!” I exclaim, after polishing off some traditional Argentinian dulce de leche.
“That’s a shame, then, since we need to dance soon,” Elias says, raising his eyebrows at me in that charming, sexy way I’ve come to know and love.
“Dance?” I repeat.
Now those eyebrows of his are wiggling in a devilish way.
“Dance.”
“I have two left feet!” I protest.
And that’s really downplaying the situation. I haven’t really tried to dance because my parents forbade me from doing it, as they considered it to be a sin, and I have no rhythm.
“Come on,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to me.
I take it, because I figure I’m already doing things I never thought I would do, so why not this? Dancing is probably one of the least craziest parts of any of this.
We go out onto the patio where a band is playing sad, slow waltz music and he twirls me around. I watch the other couples dancing gracefully to the music and try to follow them. I surprise myself by finding it’s easy enough to mimic their steps because the lines their bodies make are clear-cut and definitive.
