Read Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play for Free Online

and gives me a hug. "I’ll drive you
to Shaftsbury Avenue. I want you to stay just like that: gorgeous. Put your
glasses in your bag honey, we both know you don’t need them. Let this lucky
bastard get a look at your sexy blue eyes." She swerves her hips at me and
we laugh like a couple a teenagers. I really like her, she’s more like a sister
than a friend and I can tell her anything. She knows all my secrets. I catch a
shawl she throws me, and head out in the direction of her new Audi, giving my
sorry looking Fiesta an apologetic smile.
    On route, she lists the dating do’s and don’t’s and I
pretend to listen, but I have my own thoughts to contend with. She has us
singing along to her hits of the 80’s cd and, as luck would have it, Shalamar
just about set the tone with Night to Remember.
    By the time we reach the theatre I’m feeling nervous, not
the frightened kind, but the kind that comes from having high expectations.
Could he be the one I’ve been waiting for? Has he found me?
    Charlie bolsters my resolve. "Look, you can do
this Beth. I know it’s been a while but friggin’ hell, any guy should be lucky
to have you. Just look at you! You’re Cinderella! Now go to that friggin’ ball
and knock him dead."
    I check my simple make-up, ensure there’s nothing
stuck between my teeth and step out of the car. I call out, "Thanks Char,
I couldn’t have done this without you." And it’s a fact.
    "You know where I am if you need me. See
ya."
    I wave her off and head towards the crowd, considering
at what point my life became a hopeless fairy tale: that would be the day I
learned there are wolves out there, I suppose.
     
    I can see him, but he has no idea I’m here. I’ve
entered by the side door and I really think, for once in my life, lady luck is
on my side. I blend myself into the flock wallpaper and digest him from the
shoes laces up. He seems taller than I remember, and he isn’t wearing a suit
but black, tailored trousers that must have been made to measure. He has a lean
body, broad shoulders and there’s the suggestion of muscles, taut and firm in
all the right places. His right hand is in his pocket and the front of his
blazer pulls back slightly, drawing attention to his crisp white shirt and the
firm package underneath and … is there a hint of chest hair on his collar bone?
I can feel myself blushing and imagining what he must look like naked and wish
I’d brought a fan or something to waft away my carnal thoughts. I lick my lips
lasciviously at the thought of his mouth on my skin kissing, licking, tasting
...
    My God what am I thinking?
    I manage to control my breathing, but the air leaving
my body is so much hotter on the way out than on the way in. Forcing down a
lump in my throat, I continue my visual exploration of Ayden Stone, and here
comes the best bit: his flawless face. The light in the foyer isn’t stark, it’s
created by two stunning chandeliers hanging to his left and right. Hampered
only by limited shadow, I’m able to focus on his eyes; framed by heavy brows,
they’re darting from left to right, catching every speck of light like polished
glass, shimmering with an incredible luminosity. Even from this distance
they’re dazzling and hypnotic. How will I hold onto a rational thought when I’m
being ensnared by them like a tiny, helpless creature? He’ll chew me up and
spit me out and take no delight in the snack. Even his liquorish coloured hair
serves to frame his staggering manliness; it’s carelessly dried and may still
be wet, and I fantasize about how those black flicks will feel between my hot
fingers.
    I’m sighing … just look at him, he’s breathtakingly
gorgeous.
    But, I’m so out of practice. It’s been a year since I
went on a date and even then it was arranged for me. Talk about diving
in at the deep end ... what should I do - leave?
    I glance over to him again, he’s checking his watch: 
it’s now or never. I take one last look and make the mistake of