The Day We Met : Part I - Male Perspective

The first thing I noticed as you walked toward me was how beautiful you looked in that little red dress. The bottom of your skirt caressed your skin at mid-thigh as you navigated gracefully through the crowded sidewalk. You glided in heels like a seasoned runway model. The handbag you chose perfectly complimented your jewelry. Your dark hair, effortlessly styled like you woke up like that, flowed in the wind you created as you walked closer to me and tickled your neck. It seemed like you knew everyone you walked by because they all turned to greet you as you passed. That’s when I noticed your smile. You lit up my heart with the warmth of that smile. You looked at me as you approached, and I fell into your eyes. The most beautiful caramel color I’ve ever seen; caramel would be jealous of that perfection. I watched you walk past me, and that’s when I smelled your scent. It was like fresh sugar cookies from the oven that reminded me of my childhood. I closed my eyes and lived in that sweet moment a bit longer.

When I opened my eyes, you were gone. Panic ensued in my stomach. I had to find you to ensure you were all right and no one could hurt you. This feeling of protectiveness was new to me. I had never felt this way about anyone before. There were other women before you, but none as perfect as you. That kind of perfection needed to be guarded. I looked in the direction you went and ran to the corner. There, you continued your tour of downtown, waving to your subjects and showing them love. Undeserved love, but love, nonetheless. No one but me deserves your love, and I intend to have it.

I stay far enough back so you won’t detect me but close enough so I won’t lose you again. You linger under an awning and head inside. As I approached, I noticed you had entered a popular bar, but with the earliness of the night, there wasn’t a line to enter yet. I waited a few moments before I opened the door to maintain the illusion that I wasn’t following you.

The venue was sparsely occupied, so it wasn’t hard to locate you in the corner, alone in a booth talking to a waitress, I assumed to put in your drink order. I chose to sit at the bar on a stool that allowed me to keep an eye on you. When the waitress returned to your table, she set down two drinks. A quiver shot through my heart at the thought that you were waiting for someone who was not me. They chatted for a minute, and the waitress came and took my order, “rum and coke, please,” I told her. She turned to prepare it, and I looked at you as you downed one drink and began to sip on the second. My heart flipped in joy that you ordered both drinks for yourself.

The night was uneventful. Men and women alike approached you left and right, but you showed no interest in any of them. What are you waiting for? You intrigued me. You weren’t on your phone scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. You brought no other form of entertainment, only your bag and your beautiful self. You watched the commotion and chaos of the bar. You were smiling and giggling at the drama.

Suddenly a drunk man stood up with the help of his equally drunken friends and announced his intention to take you home. I sat perched on my stool, ready to leap up and save you. He stumbled over to you and slurred out an incomprehensible sentence you politely turned down. He then climbed into the booth with you to take what he thought was his, but it’s mine. My legs, getting help from my heart, carried me over to you hastily, and my arm reached into the booth as he slid his slimy hand up your skirt, grabbed him by his shirt, and pulled him to his feet. After I shoved him away towards the arms of his buddies, I yelled for him to get out. I turned to you to make your you were unharmed, both physically and emotionally. You looked up at me and smiled, “Thanks, he was getting a bit intimate for my taste,” you said.

“It was my pleasure. Are you all right?” I asked.

“Nothing that a therapy session won’t fix,” you laughed.

I followed in your laughter and said, “You have a good evening.”

You nodded to me, and I walked back to my stool. I decided to pay for my tab and step outside to wait for you. But before I could leave, you came up behind me and asked, “Leaving so soon?”

“Oh, you know, work in the morning,” I lied.

“I know we just met, but would you mind giving me a ride home? That is if you drove here,” she asked.

I tried not to sound too eager and agreed to help you out. As we walked the two blocks to get to my car, I thought out a plan. I planned to use the chloroform under my seat to incapacitate you and safely get you to your new home. When we got to the car, I opened my door first, grabbed the bottle and rag, placed a small drop on the rag, and unlocked your door in one smooth (at least it appeared that way to you) move. When you sat down and buckled up, I placed it over your nose and mouth and watched you squirm slightly and become limp.

Once at the house, I set you up in your new basement room and secured you to the pole in the center of the room to ensure you could move around but not get away. Then I just waited for you to wake up, which took about an hour since I didn’t use that much chemical.