A Boy for All Seasons

Break These Chains ⛓

The hotel bar was crowded.  More crowded than expected, but not surprising considering it the occasion: Valentine's Day.  Couples were canoodling in every corner.  Hopeful singles were draped across the bar.  Activity was evident every where.  Both women and men were dressed to the nines, putting their best "face" forward.  Yet, for all the potential falsity in the pomp and circumstance, there was a genuine beauty in watching people show affection without reserve.

Standing in the doorway, the man in the suit took in his surroundings.  Catching the eye of the hostess, he nodded in his direction and she led him towards his regular table.  Adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt under the sleeves of his suit jacket, he followed her with purpose, observing every detail around him.  Dark black ink tattoos were visible on the backs of his hands, an eagle on the right and a set of roses on the left, the only marks that hinted at something wild and adventurous lying underneath his neat and prim exterior.

Releasing the buttons and flipping back the panels of his suit jacket, the man settled into the lounge chair provided for him.  He deliberately chose the chair facing the door, watching and observing the guests as they entered.  The man ran his hands down his well-defined chest, smoothing out the wrinkles on his pristine vest by tugging sharply on his lower edge.  His hands then traveled towards the silk fabric of his crimson tie.  He lightly adjusted the Full Windsor knot without looking down.  A touch of matching red fabric crested over his breast pocket.  The man was well tailored to the extreme.

A raised hand was all it took to garner the attention of the server, who had been observing him with some relish from her post near the bar.  She adjusted the top of her dress to better accentuate her assets before heading to his table, but was disappointed as he barely tore his eyes from the door.  The man politely ordered his drink, two fingers of single malt scotch on the rocks, and thanked her kindly before resuming his outward gaze.

When the server returned, she placed the requested libation down on the table.  The gentleman politely pushed a bill towards her that was far above the cost of his drink.  His nails were perfectly trimmed and manicured. 

"Keep the change," he said simply.  The smooth, dulcet tones of his voice were marked with a posh British accent.  Each symbol was deliberate, yet clipped in a satisfying way.  It caused the server's knees to go weak.

"Uh, thank you," she stammered.  "Do you need anything else, sir?"

"No, I am fine," he replied kindly.  His warm brown eyes flicked towards her face, and the server's stomach flip flopped dramatically.  "Thank you." 

And with that, the gentleman waved his hand subtly to dismiss the girl.  She reluctantly grabbed the note and returned to her position at the bar.   As she resumed her duties, the server intermittently stole glances at the object of her desire.  He barely moved except for the occasional sip of his drink.  She couldn't help but wonder about what he was waiting for.  And then she arrived.

The woman was dressed in the perfect shade of red.  Her dress was simple, hugged all her curves in all the right places.  Its high neckline kissed  the top of her collar bones and finished with capped sleeves that highlighted her toned arms and olive skin.  The hem of the dress fell just below her knees, complimenting her lean and tall figure.  Her dainty feet were tucked into black pumps, whose subtle pointed toes elongated her legs even further. 

Her long brown tresses draped down over her shoulders in perfectly coiffed waves.  Her makeup was subtle and classic.  A thin stroke of black eyeliner ran across the top of her eyelids, tucked behind full eyelashes, making her brown eyes appear large and welcoming.  Red lipstick outlined the full lips of her pout.  A simple pair of diamond earrings hung on her earlobes, the only jewelry that was needed to compliment her beauty.  None could doubt that this woman was striking.