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⌞C H E S T E R⌝
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⌞♠⌝     The young lady before me wasn't the tall-and-loudly-stunning-model type like Lerato or my sister, Jacqueline; that was my usual go-to. No, she was quite the contrary.

She exuded a heavenly adorableness and a delicate elegance like some ethereal being. It felt like I had unlocked a new hidden level in my heart's server. Little did she know that she had my entire soul in a chokehold.

Her fairylike presence had left me fleetingly motionless. My heart skipped a beat and soon found itself in my mouth. I gulped. "Miss Mindelyn Suberson..."

A little hesitant, she nodded. "Mr. Chester Nel?"

Although slightly nasal, how she pronounced my name sent a rush of warm fuzziness through my body. This surprised me because I hadn't felt this particular dormant sensation for over thirteen years.

It's probably just a fluke, so I shouldn't pay much attention to it, I told myself before shooing the feeling back to the darkness it came from with a shake of my head. I refused to be bewitched by her overwhelming winsomeness. It was a trap.

Her words pulled me out of my head. "So, are you him?"

"Yeah, I am," I confirmed while maintaining a steady tone. It came from my experience in the business world. My face felt slightly warmer than usual, but she couldn't tell with the red hue from the dying sun shining over my features.

Thank God. Saved by the sundown.

Rosiness flooded her pinchable cheeks as she held her arms to her plump breasts and looked unsure of what to do with herself. "I'm sorry," she said for the umpteenth time. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer, so I thought to poke you instead. It was wrong, so I'm sorry."

The sight of glimmering tears swelling in her eyes punched me in the gut, and I cursed my clumsiness for making her cry. Before I could register what I was doing, my body was already on its feet and had pulled out her chair for her, reassuring her, "No. Seriously, it's okay. It was my fault; I was in my own world, so don't fret about it. Please take a seat."

Though hesitant from the awkward start to our date, the petite belle gracefully walked over in her red stilettos, with a hypnotic sway of her wide hips, and took a seat. As I pushed her chair in, a waft of her sweet vanilla and cookie perfume sent me back to the local patisseries in Paris. She thanked me, and I simply said, "Anytime," and then returned to my seat.

"Let me introduce myself properly." I stretched my hand across the table and said, "Good evening, Miss Suberson. Normally, I'd be happy with Mr. Nel, but you can skip the formalities and call me Chess."

She examined my hand with tentativeness and eventually gave in and, with caution, slipped her much smaller and softer hand into mine, "Um, my name is Mindelyn Suberson, but I'd honestly prefer it if you just called me Mindy."

Her skin touching mine sent pulsing electricity surging down my arm. Like her enthralling presence, her hand was so invitingly soft and warm. However, I did notice it was shivering.

But why?

It was relatively warm there. So, it couldn't possibly be the temperature. Unless...

Is she nervous?

I searched her eyes for an answer. She was diverting her gaze to the ground. Nevertheless, I managed to glimpse the glimmer of worry in her orbs. It was a look I had seen many times in my mother when she had to go into public places, and her anxiety medications had either not kicked in or were not working.

Is she still shaken up from earlier? Is it my presence?

I had to find a way to reassure her. So I did something my father resorted to that always worked with my mother in times like this.

"Well, Mindy." I gently squeezed her hand to stop the trembling. Then I turned it so that her palm faced the ground and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "It's an honor to finally meet you."

The trembling immediately ceased, and when I looked up, I found her beautiful doe-like eyes staring at me. When she realized we had made eye contact for more than twenty seconds straight, her cheeks flushed, and she, once again, looked away and muttered, "Pleasure to meet you too, Chess."

Smirking, I brought our hands to the edge of the table. To my surprise, she didn't pull away. I stroked her hand with my thumb once every few seconds, and she'd return the touch by drawing circles on my palm with her manicured nail. It was the cutest thing.

In my general course of things, I never engaged in public intimacy. It just felt awkward for me, and the prying eyes of the public would scrutinize the action, resulting in more scandals. However, I didn't know why, but having her hand in mine felt right and made the both of us a little more relaxed; I didn't give a damn at that moment.

A server brought us our menus. It didn't take long to take my food request down, as I knew exactly what I wanted after coming here since I was a child. I chose salmon gravlax for my starter, delectable lobster thermidor as my main, and the delicious Crêpes Suzette for dessert. The other dishes were extravagant (as always), but I had a rather particular palate.

On the contrary, it took Miss Suberson some extra time to finalize what she wanted. Her anxiety was still present — via her jitteriness — but it had subsided sufficiently to keep her focused. I chose the time to admire her prettiness and the little movements she would make, like the tucking of a curl behind her ear or the occasional tug of her gold bracelet. However, my time to silently watch her came to an end when she eventually settled on Chicken Consommé for her hors d'œuvre, line fish and lime purée as her entrée, and the hotel's famous chocolate and raspberry Saxon Torte for a sweet finish.

"Anything to drink during the wait, Madame?" the server asked.

"Water, please." Her replies were always so gentle and sweet. He acknowledged her request and left.

Sitting across from her, I couldn't help but study her mesmerizing features. Her makeup was natural and light. The darkest element on her was the mascara. There was some blush and foundation, but it wasn't heavy, and her pert lips shimmered with a glittery gloss I was craving to sample myself.

The waiter brought her icy water, and the second he went to another table, I couldn't hold myself back anymore. "You probably get this a lot, but you are ravishing," I said sensuously. "Seriously, your beauty is almost enchanting."

She froze with wide eyes, processing my words. There was nothing wrong with my statement, so I presumed she didn't take compliments well. Her eyes fell back to my lonely hand resting on the table's edge. We had disconnected our handholding when we were ordering. She hesitated again but found the intrepidity to slip her hand back into mine. Again, she surprised me, but I welcomed it and returned to caressing it with my thumb.

Our small intimacy seemed to give her the courage to meet my inquisitive grey eyes and say, "Thank you, Chess. You are quite the stunner yourself."

Obviously, I knew that. However, to toy with the young woman a little, I decided to falsely disagree with her. "Uh, I don't know about that, Mindy."

I must have caught her by surprise because she widened her eyes, again, and stated, "I mean it. You're very handsome."

"Do you?" With squinting eyes, I said. "Do you really mean that, Mindelyn?"

Her mouth opened to form a small 'O' shape as puzzlement flooded her delicate feminine features. "Yes, I mean it."

I shook my head, acting doubtful. "No, you don't."

"Unbelievable. You don't believe me?" She was getting defensive and bobbed her head in a sassy way. That should have intimidated me, but it made me want to cuddle her instead. Her hand was squeezing mine rather tightly at this point, and I was pretty sure she had forgotten we were still very intimately connected.

"Nah, I don't, because you barely spare me a thirty-second glance." I gave her a reason and then feigned a pout. "You know it's rude to not look at your date, right?"

She fell for my trap because what she said next was exactly what I wanted. "What do you want? A staring contest?"

Chess: 1 point. Goddess: 0 points.

"That sounds fair." I smirked, loving everything about that idea. It gave me an excuse to gaze at her for as long as I wanted without coming off as perverted.

She looked around and made a face. "Wait... In front of everyone here?"

"Yes, is there a problem?" I asked with a tilt of my head.

She whispered, "People are watching us."

"Of course they are. You're as pretty as a picture, and right now, in this whole hotel, you are probably God's finest work," I cooed with a deeper tone.

Her cheeks flushed for a second time. However, I wasn't done with her just yet.

I brought her hand to my face and caressed it against my cheek. Her skin was ridiculously soft against mine. The sweet scent of sugared strawberries and cream, probably due to her lotion, filled my nostrils. Again, she didn't pull away and watched me with cautiousness and a hint of intrigue.

A chuckle left my lips as I gently rested our hands on the table again. She stared at me with a look I couldn't decipher, so I asked her, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I'm just studying you," she divulged.

Now she was exciting me. "What have you discovered so far?"

"Physical touch is, without a doubt, your love language," she stated matter-of-factly.

An amused smirk slipped through my lips as I announced, "Well, Mindy, then that makes two of us because you never pulled away."

"That's different. My hand is just cold," she snapped, breaking eye contact with me again. That earned a small laugh from me. She was so distant, yet I knew I had her pretty close.

Her hand was so warm that if I hadn't seen her blush earlier, I would have sworn she had a fever. Then again, it could have been her anxiety. It was hard to tell without knowing her for too long.

"So, about that staring contest you owe me," I said, hoping to jog her memory. "What's pushing you away from it?"

She shot me with a whispery, harsh, "I owe you nothing, and that game is childish."

"I mean, I know plenty of adult games, Miss Suberson, but we would need to either go to the less formal bar or get a room," I suggested, and her body tensed.

Her cheeks were blazing red once more before she conceded, "A stare-down, then."

"Perfect. So, here are my thoughts on the prize," I expounded before taking a swig of my dram.

She rubbed her arm – the one linked to mine – and murmured, "Can we not?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart. What fun would it be if we didn't?"

There was that reality and the fact that I never played a game without a reward. In this world, there was always something to gain, no matter the situation.

A mixture of interest and wariness sparkled in her eyes as she queried, "What is the reward?"

That's my girl.

Now I had to come up with something both gratifying and tempting. Though she enjoyed my touch, it couldn't be sexual, because I wasn't sure about her boundaries yet. However, I didn't want something monetary or materialistic because such stuff didn't excite me anymore. I decided it had to be something simple, in the middle, safe, but worth both of our time.

A lightbulb lit in my mental space. It came to me.

"How about the loser having to honestly answer three questions from the winner and become the other's slave for as long as the victor seems fit."

She lifted a brow and shot my proposition down. "The first part is questionable, but the second part is never going to happen, Chess."

Someone has some cheekiness in them. I liked it.

She was drinking her water when I thought this was a good time to begin my bargaining. "Oh, come on, Miss Suberson. Some inquiries have hardly hurt anyone, and if I win, the slave thing would be a week max."

Almost choking on her beverage and going into a coughing fit, Mindelyn's already big eyes grew wider in consternation. The young woman wasn't having any of it. "Are you crazy? I have a life."

"Uh-huh, so you admit defeat then?" I pointed out.

"No, I just don't want to spend a whole week with you."

Well. Ouch.

That was serious damage points and nipped my ego a little. However, she still played with my hand and had this interesting and, probably, subconscious habit of drawing circles on my palm.

The negotiations were on. "Fine. How about a few days?"

"Still too much," she admitted, rubbing her throat, and stifling another cough. "I want most of my time spent sightseeing."

Ah yes, tourism. South Africa's biggest commercial sphere. But I didn't blame her; my country deserved the attention.

"Hmm, what kind of sights do you want to see?" I inquired, curious about what she knew of my nation.

"Well, I heard about this amusement park like Disney's. It's called Gold Reef City. Then I was thinking about national parks, some museums, and some fun outside activities like bungee jumping — you know — tourist stuff." She was glowing like the sun from an overhead yellow light, beaming with delight as she went through her to-do list. "The culture here is rich, and I want to experience it as much as I can."

With my unoccupied hand, I stroked my chin and started listing some suggestions to enhance her experience here. "Hmm. Have you thought about going to see Table Mountain in Cape Town for the day? It is the largest plateau on the planet and one of the world's greatest wonders. If you like some history lessons and you're in that city, you could visit Robin Island too."

"Robin Island? Can you find resorts there or something?" she asked, very invested in what I had to say. Her enthusiasm was cute to see, and it was one of the few times her anxiety was nowhere to be found.

"Uh, not exactly a resort." It was far from it, and I explained that to her, "It's one of the most famous prisons during apartheid and where they kept Nelson Mandela, our nation's former President, and world-famous anti-apartheid activist."

That seemed like a more exciting answer for her, as she got a little jumpy in her seat. With an amused smile and remembering her nature photography on Instagram, I continued, "Or you could go to the Drakensberg mountains if you're more into nature. It's very pretty out there, and there's this world-class boy choir that holds concerts there too."

I suggested just a few of the endless things to do in South Africa, but those were the ones I could name off the bat. It was like I was telling her some folktale about a magical place, and she was the little girl mesmerized by the whole fantasy as her eyes twinkled with excitement.

Her contagious smile intensified as she said, "I want to do all of it. Perhaps I should consider extending my stay for an extra week."

"It wouldn't hurt," I said, enjoying her fascination with traveling through my beloved country. I was very proud of it, so her enthusiasm was heartwarming to see. "You definitely would get most of your bucket list done."

"I'll talk to my friend about it. Despite him being a practitioner, he's kind of a travel influencer, so this idea sounds right up his alley." She took another sip of her beverage before eagerly asking, "What's your favorite place here?"

Oh, I had too many. However, I decided to have a little more fun here. So, I told her, "I know this amazing anatomical-themed museum in town. Admission is free too."

She shone with exhilaration and was now gripping my hand very firmly. "Really? That sounds cool! What are the operating hours?"

"It depends on the day. However, I can make a special request and keep it open 24 hours just for you."

"What! Really? You would?" she sang. I nodded, and then she hit me with the question I was waiting for: "Where is it exactly?"

"You're looking at it," I said with a flirtatious wink.

It took a second or two and a few blinks for it to register before her face burned crimson. Another laugh tickled the back of my throat as she sat there with an agape mouth, probably internally panicking. She didn't know what to say, and it was a funny sight to witness. However, what she said next confounded me.

Her fingers snuck their way to a loose curl, and she played with it for a bit, then twisted it and whispered with a soupçon of naughtiness. "How long is your offer valid for?"

This was what I had been craving to see: her flirtatious side. I was slowly breaking her guard, and that excited me. With a mischievous smirk, I replied with a low, titillating voice, "For as long as you want. Just say the word, and I'll give you the tour of a lifetime."

Timidity made her give a sheepish nod. However, a glimpse of sexual hunger flashed in her eyes, and I would have missed it if I had turned away with how quickly she masked it with innocence.

Miss Mindelyn Suberson, whatever your intentions are for this meeting, I would be more than happy to give you some very intimate options.

Our first course meals arrived, and we, unfortunately, had to break our handholding for a bit. Curiosity got the best of me as I watched her take her first bite. Her reaction was like the first lighting of the newly put-up Christmas tree. Her glistening eyes grew to the size of golf balls, and, dropping her cutlery, her hands covered her mouth.

With a one-sided smile, I asked, "Is it good?"

She finished chewing, released what I perceived as a moan, and then effused, "Oh my fucking god, Chess, my tongue is having a party!"

I knew my cheeks would be sore tomorrow from all the smiling her reactions were sure to elicit. "I can see."

The girl was a fellow foodie. She savored each bite she took from the orgasmic food, and I couldn't have been more entertained. Her furious pleasure brought me a sense of joy I hadn't felt in a while. She looked like a little bouncy bunny as she devoured her plate.

Our main dishes were served as we engaged in more conversations, and it was like I had opened an invaluably priceless treasure chest. Mindelyn Suberson was a paragon of fun to talk to. Full of wit and sarcasm, her words stuck with me.

I learned we had a shared love of traveling. She had a mild case of arachnophobia and loved butterflies. Her favorite color was pitch-black because she always loved a good, mysterious void and found beauty in the darkest things. There was a little argument where I claimed black was not a color but more of a tone, but nothing serious came of it, and we were soon back to genuine laughter and coquettish banter.

I was so deep into it that I forgot my original mission for this date. However, just like most good things in my life, that would soon come back to haunt me.