Enticing An Angel (3 page)

"Yep," she replied as she pulled it out to
display it for him; the ear buds were still attached.

"Well, doesn't it have the ability to send
your contact information to another phone?"

Melanie saw where he was going with this. She
put her phone away, crossed her arms, and started to tap her foot.
After a few seconds, she piped up.

"Do you want this date or not?" she asked him
directly.

Michael held in his smile as best he could,
but it escaped him as he spoke and he grinned like an idiot.

"Yes, I do."

"Then leave the office and come back at five.
I'll meet you out front, okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Michael replied with a chuckle,
and then left his foot tapping partner so she could get back to her
work and he could get back to his mother.

Michael waited patiently in front of the
building and was eventually rewarded when Melanie exited at 5:15.
She was late, but he quickly forgave her; she was nodding her head
up and down to music and was as cute as he remembered.

His forgiveness stretched a bit thin when she
looked up at the bright sky, smiled, and then abruptly took off in
another direction. Michael was unsure if she had noticed him; her
actions made him think that she had forgotten about their date
entirely. Deciding not to take offense, he chuckled to himself and
followed her.

It took him a block to catch up to her,
mostly because he was amused as he followed and saw no need to
interrupt her movements and head bobbing. When she was forced to
stop for a crosswalk, he approached and tapped her on the shoulder.
She quickly turned around and stared at him. He stared back and
then smiled.

"My name is Michael Angel, by the way," he
stated.

"Oh, okay. I'm Melanie Price," she said, and
then without addressing the fact that she had forgotten about their
date, she asked him where they were going to eat.

Michael looked around the area. He was not
familiar with this part of the city, but it was full of skyscrapers
and other buildings; finding a restaurant shouldn't be a problem.
Melanie witnessed his confusion and offered a suggestion.

"I know of a great place a few blocks away.
It'll be happy hour, and my friends usually show up," she said.

"Oh no," Michael replied. "I've been on that
date. The friends monopolize the time, and I get stuck with the
bill. No, thanks."

"You don't pay for a date?" she asked
carefully.

"Oh, paying for a date is fine. I just don't
like to pay for a play-date for a woman and her friends," he
answered, and Melanie nodded her head as she began to
understand.

"Okay, then where should we eat, Hotshot?"
she asked him skeptically as she looked around at the local
neighborhood.

"How about the Crab Pot?" he suggested. He
knew the restaurant was on the pier and not too far of a walk.

"Hmm, I've never been there," she said. "What
kind of food do they have?"

"Crab," Michael said plainly, and she gave
him a glare. He just smiled and began to lead her down the
street.

"So, Michael Angel, what kind of work do you
do?" she asked him.

"I'm an architect," he replied. "I design
office complexes and tenant improvements for commercial
applications."

"Oh, that sounds…"

Melanie didn't finish her thought. She didn't
appear to know how to finish it.

"So, how do you like working in an attorney's
office?" he asked, and then after a quick pause he asked another
question. "What are you, a file clerk?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head, "I'm
a paralegal, like Jennifer."

Michael became wide-eyed with that comment.
He found it hard to believe she was a paralegal, and when he did
eventually come to grips with the idea, he had to conclude that she
was definitely not like Jennifer.

Oh, well
, he thought to himself,
at
least my mother will be amused.

In fact, his mother had been ecstatic. When
they had left the law firm earlier that day, she had begun her
subtle nagging, and Michael had been forced to admit that he had a
date. The fact that his mother assumed it was with Jennifer wasn’t
something he wanted to correct, that revision in her thinking would
undoubtedly lead to more nagging.

Melanie and Michael continued to talk and
eventually made it to the restaurant. Their conversation was light,
and Michael found that he continued to enjoy this spunky little
woman. They didn’t appear to have much in common, but she was
certainly entertaining.

"Okay, so you like Steampunk, whatever that
is," he said as they were seated. "How about the theater?"

"Oh, I love the theater, but not the
mainstream. I like the smaller theaters and odd productions," she
replied.

A waiter came and took their drinks order,
wine for Melanie and a stronger drink for Michael. Michael also
took the time to place their meal order; Melanie had never eaten at
the restaurant before, so she just smiled and waved her hand as if
to say it was all right for him to order for both of them.

"Rough day?" she asked him after the drinks
were brought and he took a sip.

"Oh, it wasn't too bad, but I'm working with
a difficult client. We're designing their new corporate office and
the demands are tough," he replied. "I have to pitch a new company
headquarters to them in a few weeks, so I have constant meetings
with designers and engineers."

"I have no idea what all that means," she
said as she took a sip of wine.

"It means I spend a lot of my day doing
nothing," Michael replied. "I'll have two or three meetings, send
out five emails, and before I know it, it's five o'clock. I barely
have time to actually create the designs."

Melanie nodded her head as she tried to
understand what he was saying. She then gazed about the restaurant
and began to enjoy the atmosphere; Michael believed the odd look of
the restaurant with its view of the water, the location on the
wooden pier, and the picnic style tables with red checkered
tablecloths would appeal to her. She then zoned out for a minute as
she watched the patrons, and Michael had to work to get her
attention back. Luckily, all he had to do was tap her hand a few
times. When she looked at him with curious eyes as if to ask
"What?" he just shook his head and chuckled.

The waiter soon arrived with a large
stainless bowl and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the
table. Michael smiled as Melanie watched the affair. Before them on
the table was a mess of broken crabs, clams, oysters, and other
seafood; it looked like a garbage heap.

Melanie eyed him warily as she put on a bib
and he followed suit. Michael cast about for his mallet and went to
grab it.

"What you have to do is…"

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Michael turned back to the table and saw
Melanie beating a broken piece of crab. She had a determined look
on her face and was certainly not deterred by the hodgepodge of
seafood in front of her. Apparently, when she had cast her eyes
about the restaurant, she had learned what to do while eating at
this establishment.

A frown graced Melanie's face for a moment.
Michael watched her eyeing the food in front of her. She appeared
to be debating her next move, and deciding the crab wasn’t to her
likening, she hit it several more times, doing so with a violence
that startled Michael.

"Remind me never to get you angry," he said
with wide eyes.

"Fine, never get me angry," she said as she
picked up the crab with her hands and tore into it.

She ate the meat she could retrieve, set the
shell aside, and then reached across the table to rip a large crab
leg from a carcass; Melanie grasped the idea of this place very
well and was not averse to eating with her hands. Michael smiled
and thought this fit her personality very well.

She certainly is not shy
, Michael
thought to himself as he gingerly grabbed for a clam.

Dinner was much more of the same with regards
to talking and beating of dead seafood; Michael enjoyed himself
immensely. He hoped that Melanie did as well, but feared to ask
her. Instead, he just kept her talking and kept himself amused with
her actions and words.

"Well, I'm more of an artist," she said. "I
like odd music and poetry and the alternative scene. Seattle has a
lot of that."

"Does it?" he asked.

Melanie just nodded her head as she ripped
open a mussel.

"Do you ever visit museums or go to the
opera?" he asked her.

"Oh, I love the Rave at the Seattle Art
Museum," she said. "Do you ever go?"

"I've been to the museum of course, but not
the Rave. What is it?" he asked.

"It's a party at the museum. They serve
alcohol, have bands, and even allow dancing. There's also jugglers,
clowns, and other performing arts. It's very nice."

Michael nodded his head and could certainly
see where she would love something like that. When she later
suggested taking him to a gay bar, he became wide-eyed again. She
just laughed at his reaction and gave him a wink. Michael thought
she might be joking, but there was part of him that believed she
was sincere.

"Michael, I think you might enjoy getting hit
on by men," she said as she laughed. "I know I'd find it
entertaining to watch."

She smiled at his slight discomfort, and even
that turned out to be entertaining to Michael. And why not? He had
been laughing at her antics all day. She certainly had a right to
laugh at his. So, in the end, he smiled and agreed the idea was
interesting.

"Sure, why the hell not," he said, and
Melanie put on a devilish grin.

They finished dinner and began the trek back
into the city. Melanie continued to amuse Michael, and she appeared
to be entertained by him as well. She poked fun at his mainstream
beliefs and smiled as his expression became odd when she removed
her shoes and walked the city streets barefoot.

"Hey, look," she said as she pointed to a
nearby bar. "You need to take me dancing."

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed
his hand and pulled him along. Michael was in shock, but allowed
her to drag him across the street and into the establishment.

The place was not overly large, but it was
newly remodeled, had a dark wood bar, a sports theme, several flat
panels TVs, and a small hardwood floor for dancing. At the moment,
the bar and seating area were half filled, but the dance floor was
not being used. This fact didn’t deter Melanie, who quickly found a
jukebox, inserted money, and made several selections.

"I don't dance," Michael said cautiously.

"You do tonight," Melanie replied with a
smile.

"No, I don't," he replied. This time he added
a headshake to his refusal.

Melanie approached him as the music began to
play and put her finger in his chest.

"Listen here, Mr. Angel. You’ve been laughing
at me all day. Don't think I didn't notice. Now, it's my turn to
laugh at you. Now, get on that floor and dance with me," she said
as she pointed to the floor.

Michael had to refrain from laughing yet
again as this serious woman stood sternly in front of him. He had
to look at her barefoot feet to see if she was tapping one of them;
she was not. However, she was determined, and he just smiled and
obediently went to the floor.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he said.

"Most men aren't," she replied. "But look at
it this way. It might be the only time you get to grab my ass."

Michael shrugged his shoulders as if to say,
good point. He then turned into her body cautiously, unsure what
she wanted.

"It's okay, you can hold me, Mr. Angel," she
said as she put her arms out and waited for him to take her. When
he held her lightly, she gave him a curious look.

"Are you French?" she asked.

Michael was confused and had to shake his
head.

"Then hold me like a man," she demanded.

Michael smiled and chuckled at the same time.
He pulled away for a second and then retook her in his arms. His
left hand took her right and his right arm went around her body
pulling her into him so tightly that his groin ground against her
frame. He was uncertain if she would be offended, but she allayed
his fears quickly.

"That's better," she said as she began to
move with him. When his erection became noticeable, she just smiled
and ground into him all the more.

"See, you can dance," she said.

Michael moved disjointedly, but Melanie kept
him close and forced their motions to be small and controlled. When
the music changed, she taught him a quick line dance and made
certain to laugh as he fought to move his feet. Her smile grew even
larger when they were joined on the dance floor by women who were
also more proficient at the dance than he was. Eventually she took
pity on him and led him away from the floor.

"You were very brave, Mr. Angel," she said as
they left the bar.

"Thank you," he replied. "Dancing is
certainly not my strong suit."

"I know," Melanie responded with a wicked
smile. "But it was amusing. Besides, I think people should
experience new things. It makes us more imaginative."

"I don't think I got a lot of imagination out
of that experience."

"Oh, really? I think that hard-on would
disagree with you. You seemed to be imagining all kinds of things,"
she teased him.

Michael should have felt embarrassed as he
watched the woman leading him down the street, but he didn’t.
Instead, he smiled, took her hand as if they were dancing, and
twirled her as they moved along the sidewalk. Melanie smiled in
return and darted her eyebrows up and down in a show of sexual
excitement.

It wasn’t long before she led him to a very
old dark-red bricked building. It must have been a warehouse at the
turn of the previous century, but its name and current appearance
told onlookers that it was now an apartment building.