"Another glass of wine, Stella?"<br/><br/>Peter Guthrie held the bottle of, in her opinion too expensive, Merlot, ready to pour but she demurred.<br/><br/>"Thank you Peter, but no, I don't indulge more than the two glasses I've already had.”<br/><br/>"Ah yes, and you have another show tomorrow of course."  He poured the rest of the wine into his glass, and swirled it thoughtfully.<br/><br/>Stella looked at him over the solitary candle on the table, the remains of their desserts between them, and she thought... of Anton. What was he thinking, why had he been there and not even said hello?! She shook her head, to rid herself of him. He had made it clear that night, that he wasn't into her, he hadn’t even bothered walking her upstairs. This man, Peter seemed to be into her. And it turned out she liked him. He was very knowledgeable about music, and various artists, pianists, and the best symphonies in the world, and a great conversationalist. He appeared wealthy but didn't act spoiled or haughty, not even with the staff at the restaurant.<br/><br/>"Penny for your thoughts?" She looked up at him and  saw his blue eyes twinkle with amusement.  "Oh,woolgathering I suppose, it's been a long day and my thoughts are just drifting around like dandelion seeds."<br/><br/>"Woolgathering. Now that's a term one doesn't often hear on this side of the pond."<br/><br/>"I imagine you travelled then?"<br/><br/>He lauhged drily. "You could say that." He shrugged, "work."<br/><br/>"Oh!?" Stella of course had to ask where he had been and it turned into another half hour conversation when she  suddenly yawned.  Mortified she covered her mouth, but he just laughed. "How selfish of me, here I have kept you up so late after you played and sang so beautifully for two hours."<br/><br/>He waved a black credit card at the Maître d'  who was looking somewhat wilted himself waiting for them to leave as they were the last guests there. Stella wondered why he didn't ask to see the cheque but just observed as the man took the card with a small bow and returned it a few minutes later with a receipt.  Peter rose and pulled out the chair for Stella and before they left dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table.<br/><br/>Peter Guthrie had clearly been here a number of times as he had been greeted by name by both the concierge and the maitre, as well as the waiter who had attended them. He had grinned at her and whispered, "I admit, I eat here more often than I ought to, and then do penance in the gym, but trust me, it's worth it." He had been right. The food had been amazing, even though it had taken her a little while to get over the awe of being taken to this place.<br/><br/>"Shall we? " She nodded and pulled her wrap around her shoulders as he guided her through the restaurant and opened the door for her.  It was cool outside and much past her bed time, a fact which made itself known  with a small shiver and another yawn.<br/><br/>"Goodness," she said, "I am crashing fast, too much food and too much wine."<br/><br/>He hooked his arm through hers and guided her to where he had parked the car inbehich he had driven them there. It was a sleek, black thing and looked frightfully fancy. "Not to worry, I'll have you back in no time. You'll just need to give me the address so I can plug it into the GPS." Peter opened the door for her and helped her in before climbing in himself. Again, Stella became aware of how he smelled in the close confines of the vehicle. He wore a cologne she hadn't smelled before, but it smelled good. He didn't smell like Anton though. She liked Anton's smell, it was sexy, yes, she liked the cologne he wore, but he had a homey smell, a little bit of the food he cooked, and cat, and old house, and ... him.<br/><br/>Peter turned a dial and warm air began to fill the small cabin of the car as he entered her address into his GPS. Then he shifted into gear and with a deep smooth rumble set the engine to eating up the miles to her house.  She was silent now, not sure what to say, as this man drove her home. “I’ve never gone out with a man I had never met before.”<br/>He glanced at her and then returned his attention to the road. She looked at his angular profile and saw him smiling a little.<br/><br/>“Well,” he finally said, “I did sort of bully you into it.”<br/><br/>“May I see you again," he said after he had pulled to the curb in front of her complex. He had shifted towards her and in the light and shade of the night and the street lamps his face looked very intense. He was handsome, she thought, and he was polite and attentive, and not Anton, and charming, and still not Anton, and sweet, but still not Anton.<br/><br/>"Maybe," she responded simply.  "This was all," she looked down on her hands which were folded around her clutch in her lap. "This was all rather sudden," she completed. "No more gifts, please, let me digest this all first."<br/><br/>"I shall try to obey," he smiled and then got out of the car and hurried to her side. Her backpack with her regular clothes was in the back and he pulled it out and handed it to her.<br/><br/>"Stella, it was one of the nicest evenings I can ever remember having, and all thanks to you." He said holding her hand.<br/><br/>"It was lovely, Peter, thank you. For everything. And you do sing quite well."<br/><br/>Without warning he suddenly pulled her towards him and with his left hand tilted up her chin gently. He kissed her gently and briefly, but unhurriedly, and for a brief moment Stella closed her eyes and just let herself feel his mouth on hers. But then she opened her eyes and stepped back.<br/><br/>"Too soon?" He asked.<br/><br/>"Too soon," she agreed and turned to walk towards the building.<br/><br/>"Good Night, Stella McIntosh," called Peter Guthrie.<br/><br/>"Good Night, Peter Guthrie," replied Stella and headed into the building using her key-card.<br/><br/>When she got to her apartment Tesla wasted no time to tell her what he thought of her late arrival. He thought it stunk. She petted him, and made a fuss about him and fed him his dinner even though it was close to one in the morning. Then she headed to the bedroom to undress  but stopped to inspect herself in the mirror. She had lost a little weight these past several months but nothing to make her look unwell, or too thin. Her peasant behind still looked too big to her, and she ran her hand over her hips and soft but relatively flat belly. Was she that sexy siren in the mirror? Or was that a stranger?<br/><br/>She undressed, hung up the dress, and washed her face. She was so tired. But then as soon as her head hit the pillow she suddenly wondered, had Anton been at home? Had he seen Guthrie kiss her? What on earth would he think of her? But then did he care? Should she care what he thought? It was all so confusing.<br/><br/>Tesla jumped up and stretched himself out against her hip and she fell asleep mid-thought to the purring feline by her side.