We were driving into town in Natalie’s car. I was sitting in the passenger seat, with the seatbelt in position. Obviously it was too big for me, but Natalie had gone to the trouble of stringing up some shoelaces around the lap belt to fashion a little harness for me to wear while she drove.

My nerves were rattling. I was meeting with Samantha at a café. Natalie had managed to put together a little outfit for me which thankfully looked like real clothes and not like it had been ripped off a doll’s back.

“You’re not…” I gestured vaguely, “…you know, offended?”

Natalie shook her head.

“OF COURSE NOT! I THINK IT’S GREAT THAT YOU’RE PUTTING YOURSELF OUT THERE. IT MUST BE HARD. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU.” She gave me one of her easygoing smiles, before fixating on the road again.

My hands continued to fidget in my lap.

“You know…if this has promise, I might not be living with you anymore…”

“I KNOW.” She laughed. “DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT GOING TO KEEP YOU TRAPPED IN MY HOUSE LIKE YOUR FREAKY EX DID.”

The car stopped and Natalie unfastened me from the harness and lifted me up against the window to confirm it was the correct place. The café had an inside area and an alfresco under green maple trees with some people sitting in the seats, drinking coffee. I scanned the small crowd anxiously.

“I don’t think she’s here yet,” I said.

Getting out of the car, Natalie carried me into the café, letting the waitstaff know where I was going to be sitting, even though it would look like no one was sitting in the chairs. Then she put me down on a table outside – at my request.

“ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT TO SIT INSIDE?” she asked, looking down at me, and then gazing around. “IT’S VERY OPEN OUT HERE.”

“I can’t open the door, so I wouldn’t be able to get out.”

“GOOD POINT.” She leaned against the table, shifting restlessly. “SHOULD I STICK AROUND HERE UNTIL SHE COMES?”

“You don’t have to. It might be a little off-putting if you’re there with me…” I grinned. “…Because you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled in spite of herself.

“SMOOTH. IF SHE DOESN’T LIKE YOU THEN THERE MUST BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER.” She brushed some hair out of her face. “BUT I UNDERSTAND. YOU WANT TO BE ALONE.” She looked down at me, and added soberly: “WHAT IF SHE DOESN’T SHOW?”

“I’ll just ask a member of staff to phone you so you can pick me up.”

“AND WHAT IF THEY DON’T?”

“Don’t worry about that. People have a weird desire to help me when they see who I am. Sometimes they want a photo with me in return.”

She rocked on the balls of her heels and then caught herself, putting her hands behind her back demurely.

“I WAS JUST GOING TO KISS YOU GOODBYE, BUT YOU WOULDN’T WANT HER TO SEE THAT.”

She rubbed her index finger over the top of my hand.

“GOOD LUCK.”

Then she left.

*

Samantha arrived wearing a slim-fitting, short skirted dress and a leather jacket which matched her heels. Her hair was pulled back in a style and she had make-up on. I could’ve made out my reflection in her lipstick, if I’d been close enough. She looked as good as her profile picture, except now with make-up.

My heart began to race as I saw her coming, not just because she was smoking hot like a house on fire, but because it was obvious she was dressed for a date, and for a first date maybe even over-dressed. But I was flattered. Was she was trying to impress me? – Absurd!

She had fashionable sunglasses on but pushed them back over her head when she saw me, as if she wanted the clearest, brightest view of me possible, as she let her eyes explore me – it would not be an exaggeration to say feast on me.

Then her eyes sort of sunk behind the lashes again as she composed herself.

“THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME COME OUT TO MEET YOU,” she said.

I had never spoken to her before and was surprised – not unpleasantly – to hear a half-British, half-Italian accent. Then she flashed me a quick alluring smile. I melted.

After getting a grip on myself, it struck me, from the way she’d phrased herself, that she possibly thought I never got out.

“I wanted to meet you, too,” I said, my voice surging ahead of my breathing. “And it was no trouble. Actually, I love being outside.” I wanted her to see me as independent.

A bird – bigger than I was – chirped and glided past the table. I flinched.

Distracted by the bird, her eyes narrowed with irritation; I had the weird thought that if the bird had gotten any closer to me she would have grabbed it out of air and flung it into space.

“And I love this place,” I hurriedly went on, trying to look unruffled. “Nice scenery. I hope the food is good. I haven’t tried it. I don’t eat very much, ha ha ha.”

My brain was racing ahead of itself. She was so hot that my eyeballs crawled any time I wasn’t looking at her. It was like I was a teenager all over again and I was trying to charm and impress the first beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life.

She threw a quick glance around, then pointed one manicured nail towards the café’s facade.

“DO YOU MIND IF WE GO INSIDE?”

“Sure. I mean, no. I mean, whatever you want.”

She was that much closer now, up against the side of the table I was on, her particular perfume coursing through my nostrils. She tilted her head down slightly at me.

She was shy about picking me up, I realized. Then again, I was suddenly very shy about being picked up. The thought of those lightly tanned, elegantly angled, French-manicured feminine fingers making their way over my body made me feel lightheaded.

Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and began to explain:

“Normally people bring their hand in like this – ” I showed her with my own hand, “—and then you’ve got to try and – URFFFF!”

Fingers clattered into me like a pouncing animal, wrapping me up and bending me inwards with their unfeeling pressure until I felt like a bookmark pressed between the pages of a book, no ability to shift or move. I couldn’t even speak, as one of her fingerpads was inconveniently resting over one half of my face, like she wasn’t overly perturbed about which part of my body she was in contact with, and how.

My feet left the table, but rather than rising up, there was a jarring drop as I was turned sideways, and then upside down.

She glided past the table, heading around and pushing open the café’s glass front door entrance with one arm while the other swung me through the air in step with her gait.

It felt like one of those swinging ship style amusement park rides, except I was head down and my view was limited to her tall leather heels, and the paved brickwork that lined the alfresco area, turning into the grainy flooring once we were inside the café. Random parts of the café interior wheeled around beneath me: table and chair legs, the swishing apron of a waitress, the skirt and stockings of a passing diner, and several peoples’ shoes – sandals, sneakers, heels –as I whisked along past café patrons, who didn’t even seem to see me (if they were more distracted by my possessor herself, I didn’t blame them).

Whenever we passed someone, I was moved inwards against Samantha’s body, sometimes bumping her outer hip. This seemed presumptuous considering I didn’t even know her last name.

Then, as she made her way towards the back of the café, while maneuvering past a small group of people deliberating at the counter, she automatically swept her arm inwards and back, as if hiding me from view, and for one brief moment I felt the top of my head slide around her outer thigh and poke gently against the underside of one of her butt cheeks, digging softly into the crease where the cheek met the leg. My heart gave a spasm and I was moved away again before I’d even worked out what had just happened.

The boots began to clap up a narrow dimly lit staircase, and I watched every dark step pass in sequence, before rotating around a small landing to ascend another set of stairs. The bird and traffic noises came back as we came outside again, following along stony tiled balcony where I was finally turned right-side up, my feet coming into contact with the solid glass table she had selected for us in one corner of the upstairs balcony.

I’d been hanging upside down so long that my entire body tingled. I swayed on my feet a second as Samantha’s leggy form slid gracefully into frame as she took the seat facing me, resting her forearms on the table, one on top of the other.

As I looked at her, her form overlapped into two blurry images: a result of my dizziness and one half of my face having been clamped under the firm pressure of a finger or thumb for the past few minutes.

The two Samanthas gave me a small probing smile.

“ARE WE FEELING ALRIGHT, THERE?”

This was not a good start; I did not want to appear weak and helpless in front of her. That perception was, after all, the thing that had made Natalie run for the hills.

“It’s all your fault,” I said sleekly, “I was almost bowled over by how stunning you look. I don’t need to order anything; the sight of you fills me up.”

Her dual profile merged back into one as her head turned to the side and she looked out over the rooftop idly, amused, or maybe relieved I was okay.

“FLATTERER.”

I was honestly surprised my blathering remark hit, thinking that she must get a lot of attention everywhere she went and no end to dumb pickup lines. After all, wasn’t that the reason she’d taken me up to this small secluded section of the café – for a measure of privacy? The only other people sitting up here were on the far side of the balcony, obscured behind some rooftop greenery on raised beds, between the tables.

…Unless, the kind of attention she was avoiding was not for her, but for me. Was she self-conscious about being seen with me? The thought jumped through my mind before I could help it.

I needed to be sure, at least to avoid another Natalie situation.

“I hate to be a buzzkill,” I began, trying to sound casual, “but there’s something I need to get out of the way before, well…” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, shifting back and forth on my feet. “…It’s just that I’ve been jumping between some strange relationships, and it makes life a whole lot easier if some things are worked out first.”

She eyed me, unmoved.

“WHOEVER SHE WAS...” she shrugged a shoulder, “…HER LOSS.”

“It was a couple of women, actually,” I mumbled.

This made her break out with a broad smile, for some reason.

“WHAT IS IT? WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT TO THROW AT ME? YOU’RE MARRIED AND YOU WANT TO SHOW ME THE PICTURE OF YOUR KIDS IN YOUR WALLET?”

“Nothing like that,” I said quickly. “It’s not a secret. It’s just the size issue.”

Relaxing a little, she lifted her hands and clasped them under chin, resting her head on them as she observed me.

“MEN AREN’T NORMALLY SO UPFRONT ABOUT MATTERS OF SIZE,” she deadpanned, “AND ON A FIRST DATE.”

I failed to react; too busy thinking: she’d used the phrase ‘first date’. She’d confirmed it. I was now, astonishingly, further with her than I had ever been with Natalie.

Not realizing that she’d basically provided the answer I was looking for, she went on:

“I MAY HAVE HAD TO CONSULT A RULER,” the ghost of a smile passed her lips, “JUST TO CHECK.”

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

“WHY DO YOU ASK ME THIS?” she said calmly. “I SAW YOUR PROFILE. I LIKED WHAT I SAW. IT REALLY IS THAT SIMPLE.”

This concluded her response, because she then began looking at the drinks menu.

“I WOULD LOVE A DRINK. WHAT TAKES YOUR FANCY? YOU WAIT HERE AND I’LL GO DOWN AND GET IT.”

I shook my head.

“No, no, it’s on me. Whatever you want.” I felt so elated I wanted to throw gifts at her feet.

Her eyes lifted from the menu and lingered on me uncertainly.

“ARE YOU SURE…?”

“It’s no problem at all.”

There was, however, a small problem in accessing my funds. I had no wallet, cash, card or anything.

I’d had a system with Jennifer and Stuart where I transferred them money for my upkeep and board. Jennifer had vehemently refused, so I had been transferring the money to Stuart without her knowing. I had also transferred money to Natalie as a form of board, even though she insisted it was incredibly cheap to take care of me – which was true. Otherwise I didn’t buy things directly, to the point that I had become comfortable not carrying around any money. And today, it had totally slipped my mind that I might need to.

We quickly came to the arrangement where Samantha let me log into my bank account using an app on her phone, and I transferred the money for the drinks we wanted to her account. Not a perfect situation, and one I would have to remedy in future, though I didn’t think they printed cards my size.

It didn’t seem to faze her, however; I was more embarrassed about it than she was. Her normally shadowy eyes flashed with curiosity while learning some of the practical troubles of being my size; like that I couldn’t carry a credit card around because it was the size of a bodyboard. She also derived some amusement at the sight of my tiny hands pawing at her giant phone screen. I had to use my entire palm to swipe and press things; my fingertips were too small and the screen didn’t register them. She tactfully looked away when I input my password.

Not long after, she returned to the table with the drinks; hers in a normal cup, and mine in a little cream cup.

As she swirled the foam of her drink with a spoon, she said:

“YOU SAID EARLIER THAT YOUR SIZE WAS A CONTENTION OF YOURS. I’M OPEN TO HAVING SOMETHING DEEP WITH YOU, BUT FIRST I MUST MAKE A REQUEST OF MY OWN.”

Taken aback by her frankness, I stared vacantly.

“Okay,” I finally said as my insides crackled with electricity. “Shoot.”

She trained her eyes on me, watching my reaction closely as she said:

“YOU WOULD STAY WITH ME.”

My mouth went dry.

“You mean, stay over for the night?”

She shook her head slowly.

“I MEAN, LIVE IN MY HOUSE.”

I was stammering incoherently, and she took it to mean I wasn’t enthusiastic about the condition.

“I’M SORRY,” she said quietly. “BUT IT’S NOT UP FOR NEGOTIATION.”

“You’re really serious.”

“I KNOW WHAT I WANT.”

She moved her cup to the side and hunkered over the table, in order to bring her face down to mine. Her dark eyes held me captive as if in a fist. My attention was momentarily drawn to the eyebrow slit on the outer edge of her left eyebrow, like a cat scratch.

“THERE IS THIS LITTLE POCKET IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW, JERRY, AND YOU FIT RIGHT INTO IT, PERFECTLY.”

I swallowed hard, feeling simultaneously like this was going exactly how I’d dreamed it, and not at all like I’d imagined.

She looked away, bundling her hair up in her hands.

“THE THING IS,” she went on, “MY WORK SCHEDULE CAN BE UNPREDICTABLE. SO YOU MIGHT BE ON YOUR OWN FOR LONG STRETCHES OF TIME.”

“That wouldn’t bother me.”

“OF COURSE, ONCE I COME HOME, I WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO REWARD YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.”

My heart began thumping in my ears. I must have drunk my coffee too fast.

Clearing my throat, I dove around for something else to say.

“What is your work?”

“I DO A LITTLE BIT OF PHOTOGRAPHY.”

“Oh, like art?”

“NO, I MEAN, I MODEL.”

“Holy crap, you’re a model?”

“YOU COULD SAY THAT.”

I suddenly realized my unguarded ‘holy crap’ could have sounded like disbelief, and someone with shatteringly low self-esteem could be offended.

“I mean, holy crap, I was right!” I babbled on. “I saw you and thought, you’re in the beauty industry somehow!”

Nice save, old boy.

Letting the comment pass, she slid forward in her seat almost unnoticeably, regarding me with a cool stare.

“I’M SURE THERE WOULD BE A NICHE FOR YOU SOMEWHERE, IF YOU WERE INTERESTED. FROM WHAT I CAN SEE, YOU’VE GOT THE RIGHT BODY.”

I let out a loud laugh.

“I don’t think so.”

“NO? LET ME GET A GOOD LOOK AT YOU,” she murmured, turning the pad of her middle finger up underneath my jaw. I nearly flinched at her touch, which was very warm from holding her cup.

Jesus, man, I thought. Get a grip.

She tipped my head back gently so I was looking up at her face, which had an appraising look as her eyes traced my features. The forwardness of the gesture unnerved me somewhat, but I remained silent as her eyes roamed my features keenly. Her fingertips ran along my head; her touch precise and elegant, like I was a delicate sculpture. Out of the corner of my eyes I again noticed those immaculately manicured nails.

“AMAZING,” she said, finally shifting back again.

Her marveling at me like this was bizarre, outlandish, almost like a cruel joke, except she was dead serious. I was the one who was sitting here in the thrall of her beauty, yet she didn’t seem to be marveling at me the same way; but instead like I was a fascinating little object, a rare hand-crafted figure.

Suddenly I realized our drinks were finished and had been for a little while now. The air was turning cooler. The time seemed to have gone so fast; I didn’t want to leave. I began to wonder – dream, even – that she intended to take me home with her, seeing as though she’d already planned it all out. But it would be unfair to Natalie, who was going to swing by the café soon to pick me up.

Samantha’s rolling hybrid accent broke my reverie.

"I ENJOY TALKING TO YOU," she said earnestly. "IT'S NOT LIKE TALKING TO OTHER MEN. I FEEL...INCREDIBLY RELAXED."

No kidding, I thought, thinking of how forward she'd been thus far.

My legs were pressed against the glass tabletop, one of my thighs jittering up and down. The words began to flow out of me like I’d been drinking beer, not coffee:

"I'm glad you feel like that, and I wish I could say the same, but to be honest, I feel like we still barely know each other. I want to get to know you, and if we're going to be living together I think—"

Her substantially louder voice steamrolled over the top of mine:

"YOU TALK A LOT, MR MOUSSEAU," she said wryly. "HOW ABOUT WE ZIP IT NOW, AND YOU CAN PUT THAT MOUTH OF YOURS TO USE SOME OTHER TIME PERHAPS.”

She reached forward and bumped the tip of my nose with a finger. Astonishing how gently she was able to do it, without the whopping plate of polished acrylic taking a chunk out of my face.

She looked down and began to massage the back of one of her hands, those glazed milky-tipped nails fanning out in my direction. When she spoke again, her voice had turned low and serious:

"IT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU'RE PATIENT. I'M A VERY INTIMATE PERSON. ONCE I FEEL GOOD AROUND SOMEONE, I TEND TO LET THEM RIGHT INSIDE."

"I’m the opposite,” I blurted. “I love to meet new people, it just takes me some time to get deeper with someone, to be honest with you. It's not personal, I just…”

Tend to run away when I get too close, I finished silently. Like with Jennifer? With Natalie?

That’s unfair, the little voice shot back, they don’t count.

Jennifer had dumped me, originally. And Natalie hadn’t wanted me in the first place…but maybe she’d have come around if I had just been patient. That’s the problem, I ran away before first impressions had even worn off…

I quickly pushed the thought out of my head.

"I UNDERSTAND,” her head was tilted down and she was observing me from under her lashes. “AND I DON'T THINK YOU'RE UNWISE FOR IT. BUT I THINK BEING IN PUBLIC LIKE THIS IS INHIBITING US. MAYBE WE’RE BOTH A LITTLE CAMERA SHY.”

She stood up, slinging her bag over one arm before looking down at me.

“YOU WANT TO KNOW ME BETTER: LET US MEET AGAIN IN A MORE UNINHIBITED SETTING. JUST PEOPLE BEING THEMSELVES, HAVING FUN."

"I'm up for it. What are you thinking?"

"I'M GOING TO A LITTLE THING AT A FRIEND’S PLACE. JUST SOME PEOPLE WHO WANT TO KICK BACK AND HAVE A DRINK. NO ONE'S GOING TO EXPECT ANYTHING OF YOU. EVERYONE’S LAID BACK, THEY’LL LOVE YOU."

The sounds of the interior café rose up the stair case, the drone of people talking and laughing. It had been a long time since I’d been outside like this, around people.

"Sounds upbeat. Maybe I'll be there."

"I KNOW YOU WILL," her mouth quirked, "BECAUSE I WILL FIND YOU AND DELIVER YOU THERE MYSELF IF I HAVE TO."

She came around the side of the table, her fingers capturing my head and giving it a firm, playful squeeze, while her particular, heady brand of perfume stole my senses.

"DO YOU NEED A LIFT?"

It felt like my throat had closed up, and for a second I was afraid my voice wasn't going to come out, but gratefully it did, and sounded a lot more self-assured than I felt.

"No. I'm getting picked up. I'll just wait. Shouldn't be long."