One Night Stand
“Why don’t you come back to my place?”
I met Marc just hours earlier, and somehow I found my lips interlocked with his as we strolled toward the sky train.
I was in Vancouver on business. It was my last night, and on a whim I decided to go to Stanley Park for a free concert. There I was, swaying to the beat of Snow Patrol, when I saw him. Well, saw the back of him. His mane of honey blonde hair seemed to gleam in the night sky, the way he smiled, that leather jacket; I was entranced.
“Great band huh?” I shot him my best smile as I stood next to him at the bar. Please don’t be gay. Please don’t notice the mountainous pimple on my chin.
“Sure is, you want a drink?” He smiled back, his voice warm and deep.
That was all it took. We danced, we drank, we kissed. We had instant chemistry. Marc did something for film, although I can’t remember what exactly. He was 27, liked hockey, never married. Normally I would be extremely skeptical- offended even, if a man asked me to stay over after just meeting, but there was something about Marc that was hard to resist.
“Sure, let’s go.”