“Ironic…?”
“Ironic? Yeah, I guess that would work, or maybe juxtaposed,” she responds.
As we drive up the hill Juliette gets quiet. I’m glad she’s not one of those women that fills every second with conversation. I need downtime to reflect.
After parking, Juliette tells me, “It’s only a mile or two walk to the view.”
The blue sky and warm temperature feels nice as I shed my fleece and grab the water bottle I took on the plane.
We walk down a wide dirt path in what looks like a high meadow. The path takes us through a small grove of trees. As we enter a clearing, she walks me to a lookout.
“How familiar are you with the bay area?” she asks.
“I’ve been here a few times—to San Francisco, Napa, and Monterey,” I explain.
She starts pointing out landmarks, but all I’m really interested in is her. She’s pretty, but in a way that women who don’t care about being pretty are. Some good looking female doctors I know are that way; they’re women that don’t derive their ego from their looks. She has an unencumbered attitude. She was ready when I came to the door, no games. She probably doesn’t change her outfit three times before she goes out either. Juliette’s definitely different than Mariana, which is good.
“What?” she says with a questioning smile once she realizes I’m looking at her, not the view.
I just shake my head. A pretty girl like her should be used to guys looking at her, which is curious. She changes the subject, “Drink up; you don’t sweat that much here because it’s so dry. People from back east never realize how dehydrated they’re getting.”
Drinking up, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her as she points while saying, “There’s a spigot with potable water. Let’s fill up before we head back to go wine tasting.”
The conversation becomes easy, and fun as we head back to the car on the same path we just took. She then guides me down the hill to the winery where we park.
“I recommend we put something in our stomachs before wine tasting,” she says.
Grabbing the bag with food out of the back, I say, “You lead the way.”
There’s a picnic area near the tasting room. She’s chosen some nice cheeses, fresh bread, and fruit. The weather feels like September, the air is warm with just a hint of a cool breeze, the sun feels good. At home, the leaves are off the trees and we’ve already had snow flurries. When we’re done eating, I gather up what’s left and put the bag back in the car. We meet back up; my hands just itch to touch her. With my hand on her back, I walk with her through the door and into the tasting room. My hand up to my elbow tingles from contact.
We each choose a wine series to taste and stand shoulder to shoulder. We’re so close I can’t help but look at her soft pink lips and wonder what they feel like, what sounds she’ll make when she comes. Pulling myself back, I tell myself, this isn’t a hookup, I need to slow myself down. Juliette’s a nice girl, the type I’ve spent most of my life avoiding. I can tell by her body language that if I push her too fast she’ll run. Then again, catching her might actually be fun.
We share our wines, every time we touch my skin sparks, I can tell I’m having the same effect on her, since her eyes get wide and her pupils dilate. As we continue to taste wine, she starts loosening up. She even starts getting a little flirtier. I find myself captivated with her shy, flirty side. Every moment I’m with this woman, I want to be with her more. I can feel her sucking me in, after this last year it feels exceptionally good.
Buying a couple bottles of the wine we both liked best, I figure I can bring one tonight to the partner dinner and leave one with Juliette. It will be a thank you for the nice day and an excuse to have dinner with her in the future.
Driving her back to her apartment, she starts exiting the car without her purse. Living with Mariana, who was constantly loosing
“Ironic? Yeah, I guess that would work, or maybe juxtaposed,” she responds.
As we drive up the hill Juliette gets quiet. I’m glad she’s not one of those women that fills every second with conversation. I need downtime to reflect.
After parking, Juliette tells me, “It’s only a mile or two walk to the view.”
The blue sky and warm temperature feels nice as I shed my fleece and grab the water bottle I took on the plane.
We walk down a wide dirt path in what looks like a high meadow. The path takes us through a small grove of trees. As we enter a clearing, she walks me to a lookout.
“How familiar are you with the bay area?” she asks.
“I’ve been here a few times—to San Francisco, Napa, and Monterey,” I explain.
She starts pointing out landmarks, but all I’m really interested in is her. She’s pretty, but in a way that women who don’t care about being pretty are. Some good looking female doctors I know are that way; they’re women that don’t derive their ego from their looks. She has an unencumbered attitude. She was ready when I came to the door, no games. She probably doesn’t change her outfit three times before she goes out either. Juliette’s definitely different than Mariana, which is good.
“What?” she says with a questioning smile once she realizes I’m looking at her, not the view.
I just shake my head. A pretty girl like her should be used to guys looking at her, which is curious. She changes the subject, “Drink up; you don’t sweat that much here because it’s so dry. People from back east never realize how dehydrated they’re getting.”
Drinking up, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her as she points while saying, “There’s a spigot with potable water. Let’s fill up before we head back to go wine tasting.”
The conversation becomes easy, and fun as we head back to the car on the same path we just took. She then guides me down the hill to the winery where we park.
“I recommend we put something in our stomachs before wine tasting,” she says.
Grabbing the bag with food out of the back, I say, “You lead the way.”
There’s a picnic area near the tasting room. She’s chosen some nice cheeses, fresh bread, and fruit. The weather feels like September, the air is warm with just a hint of a cool breeze, the sun feels good. At home, the leaves are off the trees and we’ve already had snow flurries. When we’re done eating, I gather up what’s left and put the bag back in the car. We meet back up; my hands just itch to touch her. With my hand on her back, I walk with her through the door and into the tasting room. My hand up to my elbow tingles from contact.
We each choose a wine series to taste and stand shoulder to shoulder. We’re so close I can’t help but look at her soft pink lips and wonder what they feel like, what sounds she’ll make when she comes. Pulling myself back, I tell myself, this isn’t a hookup, I need to slow myself down. Juliette’s a nice girl, the type I’ve spent most of my life avoiding. I can tell by her body language that if I push her too fast she’ll run. Then again, catching her might actually be fun.
We share our wines, every time we touch my skin sparks, I can tell I’m having the same effect on her, since her eyes get wide and her pupils dilate. As we continue to taste wine, she starts loosening up. She even starts getting a little flirtier. I find myself captivated with her shy, flirty side. Every moment I’m with this woman, I want to be with her more. I can feel her sucking me in, after this last year it feels exceptionally good.
Buying a couple bottles of the wine we both liked best, I figure I can bring one tonight to the partner dinner and leave one with Juliette. It will be a thank you for the nice day and an excuse to have dinner with her in the future.
Driving her back to her apartment, she starts exiting the car without her purse. Living with Mariana, who was constantly loosing
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