Halfway there she said, "Michael?" I looked across at her and she had that look of apprehension I seen on our first meeting. "Michael," she repeated hesitantly, "Can I spend the night with you? At your house, I mean." Yes, of course you can," I answered wondering if she really meant she wanted to spend the night in my bed and then didn't want to ask directly and changed the wording. "Do you want to pick up some stuff from home?" She did so it was fairly late by the time we got in and the central heating had gone off but with the gas fire on, the conservatory soon warmed up. Em dumped her stuff in the back bedroom while I made a hot drink for us. Shyness again overcame her when we sat on the settee in front of the fire and she kept to the far end leaving a gap between us. Perhaps I should have pushed things at that point but I was still uncertain of how she would react and I decided to let her set the pace. I did give her a goodnight kiss when she left for her room but it was only a. He was Mark and she, Sarah. He was a trader (who in NY isnt?) with a solid midwestern build and square chin, very farmboy except for the tailored shirt and mock-ironic plastic-rimmed glasses. She was in fashion (two for two on cliches!) and looked the part – severely angled stiletto heels and skin-tight red jeans coming up to meet with a loosely draped striped top, all covered with hipster-gaudy necklaces and bracelets. A nose stud rounded out the look. We took to chatting with them immediately and found that, aside from being married, we did have a lot in common. They were less new to the city, but also outsiders, and they had struggled to find other people in their situation. Given how packed it was, we ended up spending most of the night dancing with them (losing our host sometime around 1). At the end of it all, we found ourselves grabbing a late night drunk slice and planning our next outing. We decided that this went well enough, and that we would host Mark and Sarah the.
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