The Dating Game (9 page)

Wednesday 7th September

Wednesday was a flurry of activity.  Gill was glad she hadn’t
drunk much the night before. At least she felt alert.  She had fielded calls
all day from candidates going for final interviews at Smythson Engineering. 
They were preparing to head to Leeds for the last leg of their three month
interview process.  How drawn out that had been.  One of the directors had
suffered a heart attack and the firm had needed to wait until he could return
to work before making a final decision.  Now they were down to a shortlist of
eight.

Gill had been delighted to receive an e-mail from Charlie,
saying he could meet her for a drink on Sunday, but he’d need to leave by four
to pick up his daughter.  Far from being miffed at this, his comment endeared
him a little more to Gill.  His commitment towards his daughter showed he
obviously took his parental responsibilities seriously.

He’d suggested Cosmopolitan in the Merchant City.  Did she
know it?  She did.  She’d been for a few birthday drinks with a friend not long
after it opened, prior to attending a concert at City Halls.  It was an
inviting place, cosy, but with an upmarket feel.  The waiters were happy to mix
you up any cocktail, even if it wasn’t on the menu and without having to ask
you what it contained.  That was service - the difference between a good bar
and a great bar, Gill thought.  She loved the plush, roomy booths, essential to
having a private chat.  There would be nothing worse than being on a blind date
and everyone being able to overhear your conversation.  After a slight delay
Gill replied saying that was fine, and could they make it one o’clock?  Her
rationale was, that way if they liked each other, they could potentially spend
three hours together, whilst still having the get-out clause of it only being for
a drink, if it didn’t go to plan.

Jumping out of her chair, Gill crossed off some items on her
whiteboard and added a few others.  She had made a mental list in the shower
that morning of the candidates she wanted to see for her SRC position.  She
wanted to contact them today to check their availability for next Thursday and
Friday for an initial interview.  The sooner she hired some help, the better. 

Pulling the well-thumbed stack of short listed CVs towards
her, she leafed through them, making final notes as to each candidate’s
merits:-

Leslie Crutherland – had worked for a large, multi-national
recruitment firm, in their Technical Sales Recruitment division for five
years.  His client portfolio included ten blue chip companies.

Angus Mackie – twenty nine.  Didn’t have much of a
background in recruitment, but had worked for a small competitor of McFadden
Technical Recruitment for the last two years. Very occasionally Gill had lost
business to him.

Roseann Lavelle – had worked for a multinational recruitment
firm in Glasgow, Manchester and Paris, where its European headquarters was
located.  She spoke fluent French and Flemish, as well as having done a degree
in Law.

Alexander Currie – not long out of university, but with good
work experience and had worked for three different recruitment firms, each time
under placement.  He might enjoy and be grateful to have a real, full-time
position, where he wasn’t going to be let go at the end of six months.  The
freedom to grow in an agency such as Gill’s could also be a carrot to be
dangled in front of him.

Zoe Straker – twenty three, had returned from doing a gap
year travelling around Asia and assisting in orphanages, after completing her
MSc in Global Human Resource Management at the University of Liverpool.  She
had some recruitment experience, having worked each summer at one of the main
players in the Glasgow area.  Perhaps she had just made tea and answered
phones, but her CV read well.

Gill glanced down the rest of her shortlist.  The irony of
interviewing candidates both in her professional and her private life was not
lost on her.  She hoped she didn’t grill her dates too much, and that she
didn’t go into ‘interview mode’.

She sent off the template e-mails inviting the candidates
for interview, amending the names as necessary, and had completed her fifth
when an e-mail popped up.

‘Hi Gill, the agency said you would like
to meet up.  Are you free this weekend?  If so, thought we could go for lunch
and a few drinks.  Let me know, Sean x’

Kisses already
, thought Gill. 
He’s hopeful
. 
But then, this was the Irish guy, even his name sent tingles down her spine. 
Sean, sensual Sean, sensuous Sean. 
Oh shut up, Gill
, she told herself. 
And he wanted to have lunch with her.  He was keen, or hoped they’d get on.  She
liked that – admired his optimism.  Plus today was only Wednesday.  Saturday
and Sunday were three and four days away respectively.  He had given her enough
notice, except she was already seeing Charlie on Sunday.

Gill sent out the remainder of her interview e-mails and
then turned her attention back to her personal e-mail.

‘Nice to hear from you, Sean.  Could do
Saturday lunch.  Where would you like to go?’ and once she had sent it off into
the ether, she allowed herself a little smile.

Now she had dates with three men in one week!  It really was
true what they said, whoever
they
were.  Men
were
like buses.

Thursday 8th September

On this September evening, with the sun actually making its
presence felt for once, Gill felt light of heart and hopeful.  She couldn’t
wait to see Anton again.  Admiring herself in the mirror, she felt pleasantly
surprised at what she saw.  Finally her wardrobe was being put to good use. 
Apart from her business and casual clothes, much of her wardrobe went untouched
for months on end.  That was about to change.  Although she’d rather wear black
for its slimming purposes, she felt that all black gave off the wrong vibe, nor
was it particularly summery.  Feeling slightly guilty about her other upcoming
dates, Gill sprayed herself with a subtle sprinkling of her favourite perfume,
an unfussy, floral fragrance, and left the office.

Anton had asked her to meet him outside a music shop in
Buchanan St.

Too far to walk in heels, Gill flagged down a taxi.  As the traffic
was fairly light, rush hour already past, she arrived quickly.  She’d asked the
driver to drop her at the corner of West Nile St and Sauchiehall St, the
closest drop off to their rendezvous point.

Anton stood on the steps leading up to the sandstone
coloured concert hall, appraising Gill, as she exited the taxi and headed
towards him.  He was more smartly dressed than last time, in navy trousers, a
pale blue shirt and a navy blazer.  Gill hadn’t looked up, obviously intent on
reaching her destination.  As she approached the corner, she ran her hand
through her hair and just in that split second, her glance upwards connected
with Anton’s, who smiled at her.

Instantly Gill’s face lit up and she walked towards him.  ‘I
thought I was meeting you at the music shop.  Were you watching out for me?’

‘We are kind of meeting there.  It’s only a few metres
away.  And yes, I was looking out for you.  The steps are a good lookout, but,
there’s another reason I’m standing here.’

‘And what’s that?’ asked Gill.

‘We’re going to a concert; Chopin, Beethoven and Fauré.’

‘Really?’ Gill was delighted.  How thoughtful of him.  She’d
mentioned in passing on their date on Monday how much she loved classical
music.  He had certainly been paying attention.  Definite brownie points.

‘Is that OK?’ Anton sought reassurance.

‘That sounds wonderful,’ Gill told him.

‘Oh, I forgot something,’ he said and turned towards her.

‘What?’ said Gill, but she had no time to say anything else,
as Anton bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips.

‘I forgot to say hello,’ he said, pulling away from her. 
Gill wished he hadn’t, that he had continued, but they were standing in the
centre of the steps outside the concert hall for all to see.  She wondered if
she cared.

‘Hi,’ said Gill.  Anton slipped his large hand into hers and
escorted her into the concert hall.

After collecting the tickets, they had a quick drink in the
crowded bar, and then headed for their seats. 

He must have paid quite a bit of money for these
tickets.  Should I offer to pay for mine?
Gill wondered.  They were amongst
the best seats in the house.

Anton had thought of everything.  Slipping a bottle of water
into her hand, as they took their seats, he then produced a programme, which he
discussed with Gill, as they waited for the performance to start.

‘So, first we have Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor,
followed by Fauré’s Pavane and finally Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 in E
flat major, Op 73,’ Anton filled her in, reading from the programme.

Gill didn’t know all of the various works, but she did
generally like classical music and Beethoven in particular, even if she didn’t
know which key they were played in.  Anton sounded very knowledgeable.

‘So, who are your favourite composers?’ Gill asked him.

‘Well, of course I love some of my countrymen,’ Anton said,
sounding a little patriotic, thought Gill, suppressing a smile.  ‘But, my
favourite non-Russians are Brahms, Beethoven and current day, Ennio Morricone.’

‘Really?  I
love
Ennio Morricone,’ said Gill,
‘especially
Gabriel’s Oboe
.’

‘Yes, that’s my favourite piece too, but of course he did a
lot of the music to many of the old westerns.’

‘Yes, I vaguely remember that.  They’re not my thing,
though.’

‘Me neither.  I’d rather watch
Il Postino
or
Chocolat
.’

‘No way!’ said Gill.  She laughed and then apologised, ‘I’m
sorry, it’s just I’ve never met a man who would admit to liking Chocolat.  It’s
usually the girls who are swooning over Johnny Depp.’

‘Yes, he has that effect on me, too,’ Anton said, laughing
heartily.  It was rather sexy.

The lights intensified and rounds of applause broke out, as
the members of the orchestra made their way onto the stage, beaming at the
audience, as they settled into their seats, repositioning music stands, so they
were optimally placed.

Usually Gill would have been ogling the orchestra to see if
any new musicians had joined since she had last attended one of their concerts,
checking to see if there was any talent, in both senses of the word.  Now,
however, the thought didn’t even enter her mind, as Anton smiled at her and
offered her the programme to read, as they awaited the arrival of the
conductor.  She glanced briefly through it, more because he had been kind
enough to buy it, than for any real desire to familiarise herself with the composer’s
history.  She was interested of course, but right now the man sitting beside
her, held more appeal.  Gill risked a sidelong glance and saw that he was
gazing thoughtfully at the orchestra.

‘Do you play?’ she asked him.

‘Not any more.  I learned violin until I was ten, but then I
fell in love with science and stopped.’

‘A pity.’

‘Yes, I often think so, especially when I come to an event
like this.  I love classical music, but I’m no longer confident enough to
play.  Do you?’

‘No, I would have loved to play piano, though, or violin, or
even the oboe.  I wouldn’t have cared, as long as I could have produced a sound
like that.  The nearest I got was a loan of my cousin’s chanter.’

‘Chanter?’

‘Yes, it’s the part of the bagpipe which you play the tune
on.’

‘Ah, I see.  I can imagine it now.  I went to the Edinburgh
Military Tattoo once.  It’s quite something.’

‘I’ve never been,’ Gill laughed. ‘How bizarre that you have
and yet, I’m Scottish and I haven’t.’

‘It’s always the way.  No one ever visits what’s on their
doorstep.’

The audience started to clap as the renowned Russian
conductor, Dmitri Budkovskiy, walked towards the stage, his coat-tails flapping
behind him and his mass of unruly curls bouncing as he walked.  Lukasz
Karpinski, the young Polish pianist, who had won the 2010 Best Undiscovered
Talent of the Year award, for his prowess in playing Chopin’s works, smiled
shyly from beside the great maestro.  Dmitri bowed to the crowd once he reached
the podium, whilst Lukasz accommodated himself at the instantly recognisable
Steinway piano.  Glancing at Lukasz and waiting for his confirmation that he
was ready, the great Budkovskiy turned to the orchestra.  Some silent
instruction passed between them, before he raised his baton and the lively
sound of the violins introduced the first movement.

Gill relaxed into the music, which alternated between lively
and gentle.  Although she enjoyed classical music, she had no idea what
allegro
and all the other musical terms meant. She remembered quavers from music class
in third year at school, but was more likely to be found eating their crisps
namesake these days.  After the initial introduction, the piano dominated the
piece and Gill sat, eyes half-closed, letting the music wash over her.  Anton’s
hand lay partially on her armrest, so close to hers that they were almost
touching.  Her eyes flickered open and she saw that he was looking at her.  She
smiled and his hand covered hers. It felt warm, nice.  How was she meant to
concentrate on the music now, though?  She felt her heart beating faster, just
being so close to him.  She’d forgotten just how potent lust could be.  And she
always found classical music an aphrodisiac.  Pity none of her former
boyfriends had been into classical music – that would really have been a dream
come true.  She’d often fantasised about being with a pianist or a violinist. 
They showed such passion - she imagined they’d be the same in bed.  It would
probably have been much cooler to lust after the latest rock or pop star, but
that had never done it for her.  She loved that the male members of the
orchestra were all clean-shaven and sporting tuxedos.

Anton started tracing circles on the outside of her hand. 
It was a delicious sensation.  It felt forbidden, surrounded as they were by
hundreds of people, but it was as intimate as kissing her.  Gill was getting
aroused and hoped that things might go further with Anton tonight.  He was
lovely, adorable, sexy and very well-mannered.  What more could she hope for in
a guy? And he loved classical music.  Short of serenading her every day with
his own violin, there wasn’t really much he could do to top that.

At the interval, they grabbed a quick drink at the bar. 
Anton chose a glass of Pinot Grigio and Gill decided to make that two.  The bar
was busy, with no place for them to sit, so they claimed a section of the bar
as their own, out of the way of new customers, and leaned against it.  As they
sipped their drinks, they talked about the weekend. Gill realised she didn’t
want him to know she had another date, but neither did she wish to lie to him. 
She skirted around it by remaining vague and just said she would be out for
lunch on Sunday, but would have a lazy day on Saturday.

‘I’m going to have to work this weekend,’ Anton said. ‘I’m
going to Minsk in a few weeks and I have so much preparation to do, you
wouldn’t believe.  Sometimes I wish there were more than twenty-four hours in a
day.’

‘Or less work,’ mused Gill, since his thoughts echoed her
own. 
Please let these candidates for the SRC position be suitable
.  She
couldn’t bear it if they weren’t.  She had already been struggling to keep up,
before she turned into a social butterfly, and now there was no way she could
manage without help.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Anton agreed wholeheartedly with her.  He smiled
down at her.  There really was no other way to describe it.  Gill was
relatively tall for a woman in the west of Scotland, where the average height
was five feet four, but Anton positively dwarfed her.  She rather liked it.  He
placed his glass down on the bar and tenderly stroked her cheek.

‘We need to work less,’ he murmured.  Gill, transfixed,
could barely nod her response.

The bell rang out, indicating they should return to their
seats for the second half of the concert.  Fauré’s Pavane had been wonderful,
so beautiful, but Gill was really looking forward to Lukasz playing the
Beethoven piece.  As they shuffled towards their seats, trying to be polite and
not overtake the elderly gentleman being assisted to his seat, whilst snails
overtook him, Gill thought,
I could get used to this
.

Lukasz Karpinski was certainly the talent he was proclaimed
to be.  Although best known for having completed all of Chopin’s works, Gill
thought he did an amazing job of performing Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5. 
As soon as the violins and double bass started up, even from the first few
notes, Gill realised that she knew this piece, whether from a film, or a TV ad,
she couldn’t be sure, but she had heard it before.  It was very gentle and went
some way to calming her ardour, as it really was a very relaxing piece of
music, almost somnolent. Anton placed his hand in hers, during the piece and
although he didn’t trace circles this time, for which she was partly thankful,
he left it there and she didn’t remove it.

Gill couldn’t recall the last time she had felt this at ease
with someone.  It was so effortless, but there was most definitely a frisson
between them.  And she rather hoped she’d be in a position to do something
about that soon.  But how?  He lived in Stirling, so it wasn’t feasible for him
to invite her back to his.  Would it be forward of her to ask him back?  Would
he assume sex to be on the cards?  It might be, but that wasn’t the point.  She
didn’t want him to think she took having sex with someone lightly.  That wasn’t
the case, but she really liked him and it had been such a long time.  Anton,
she knew, would be a considerate and probably very passionate lover. 
Daydreaming about what they would be like together, she didn’t realise it, but
she had started gently caressing his fingers with the underside of her thumb,
which caused Anton to throw her a quizzical smile. 
Wow!
A thunderbolt
of lust shot straight through her.  There was such a thing as a time and a
place, but her libido didn’t know that.  She’d wait to see if Anton made a move
or gave any signals after the concert.

‘That was fantastic,’ enthused Gill, as they made their way
out of the auditorium.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.  Good idea then?’

‘Great idea, thanks so much for bringing me.’  Gill fell momentarily
silent.  Again she wondered if she should offer to pay for the ticket.  Somehow
she thought not.

As they walked down the front steps of the concert hall onto
Buchanan St, Gill didn’t want the evening to end, but she knew Anton would have
to catch the train to Stirling.  Idly she wondered how much a taxi would cost
to Stirling.  Breaking into her thoughts, Anton said,

‘Are you in a rush to get home, or do you have time for a
quick drink, before I have to catch the train?’

Her hopes dashed of a passionate encounter with the gorgeous
Russian just yet, Gill recovered herself and hiding her dismay, said ‘No, a
drink would be lovely.  Did you have somewhere in mind?’