“What would you like to drink?”
The question caught me off guard as I wasn’t exactly standing near the bar, and I most certainly didn’t have my “hey come and flirt with me!” face on. No, instead I was slightly leaning on a pillar in the club close to the bar, waiting for my girl who was actually at the bar getting us drinks, and maybe even slightly distracting myself by constantly shifting on my 4inch, nude slingback heels to see what pose felt the most comfortable. All of these things contributed to me not exactly realizing that this question was directed to me at first.
“What would you like to drink,” came the question again, this time with a bit of a chuckle.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, finally looking up and noticing the man who’d noticed me a few minutes earlier. “I didn’t realize you were talking to me.”
“It’s cool.” He smiled.”Hi.”
Damn my addiction to men with straight white teeth. I could’ve probably melted in his arms right then. At least my feet would have been more comfortable. I shifted in the shoes again.
“Hi,” I said, trying to gain my composure. I was not going to let this man see me sweat, and I certainly wouldn’t let him know that in a matter of 15 seconds I’d gone from distracted girl who didn’t notice him walk up to me to girl who might ask him what he wanted to drink.
“So… now that you know who I’m talking to… can I get you that drink?”
He spoke slowly and deliberately, not at all like what you would expect for someone to speak in a club. He didn’t scream or try to out talk the noise in the background. No, he spoke with all the confidence and smoothness of a man who knew his whisper could be heard above anything, including the sounds of the beats stemming from the dj’s booth.
“Sure,” I said, attempting to look this 6 foot chocolate drop of a man deep in his eyes. Even with my 4 inch stilettos on, he beat me by a good 7 inches. “How about a Hennessy and a coke.”
Thump. Thump. The beats from the music were attempting to drown us out again so he calmly walked a few steps closer to me.
“Really? No Moscato? No Champagne? No Chardonnay or a glass of Amaretto Sour?” He smiled again. A big and bright smile like he could have been a Colgate model.
“Nope, none of those. Just a Hennessy and coke.”
“Wow, a beautiful woman who wants a Hennessy a coke, huh? That means you might be able to hang with me.”
“I guess that makes you a lucky guy, right?” I was trying so hard not to just jump on him right then, but every time he smiled, it made it harder and harder. I stood on my tippy toes to try and get closer to his face.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The beats were growing louder as the music and energy of the club sped up. I looked at my watch and noticed it was 11pm, right around the time that all djs in DC think the music should get louder and faster.
“I guess it does,” he said, inching in closer and closer to me, and bringing his voice to an even softer whisper. “A very… very… lucky… guy.”
He stared at me. And smiled. That big Colgate smile again.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. This time the loud beats were coming from my heart. How did this man get me sprung so quickly with all of maybe 5 sentences?? My legs were so weak at this point, I couldn’t stand on my toes any longer. Was it the heels or this man? Thinking it was the heels was certainly easier to handle.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t move.”
I didn’t say anything back to him. Just smiled. But we both knew I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
PS: If you’d like to be featured as a brief shoe story (anonymous or not), send me a pic of your favorite pair of shoes and information detailing a moment when you wore them. You can send the information to me @darbybaham on Twitter or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. *NOTE: I may have to contact you for more information, depending on the details of your story*