I did not expect much as I waited in the atrium of the theater. Shannon said she wanted a date on Friday night. Well, that Friday night was a ballet I would be accompanying as part of the orchestra. I didn’t know if Shannon liked ballet. I asked her, but she replied that she didn’t tell her dates what she liked.

“You want the whole experience, don’t you?” she said when I asked her.

I waited in my orchestra togs by the front door. I shouldn’t have been there, but I wanted to make sure she made it to her seat before I deserted her for the pit.

Nothing could have prepared me for when she came in the door. I had seen a lot of finely dressed people in theater atriums. They didn’t turn my head, but Shannon turned everyone’s head collectively.

She wore a black dress that made all other black dresses look like hopeless imitations because the woman in the dress had to be Shannon if it was going to look good. It was almost sleeveless but covered the curve of her shoulder. The neckline hit a sweet spot on her chest. The spot showed she was a fine woman under the dress without making her look cheap. As my eyes traveled downward, I suddenly knew why she said men attacked her butt when they insulted her. It was her hips they were going to miss when she was gone.

Reaching up to take her hand, I noticed she wore three thin bangles on her wrist, the only jewelry she wore. Her hair was styled in voluminous curls that looked soft and touchable. Otherwise, it seemed like she was shining, either from her mood or some glitter she’d artfully brushed herself with.

I welcomed her, handed her a program, and rushed her through the ticket area down to the seat I’d managed to find for her.

“I’ll take you out for something to eat afterward,” I said as I left her to join the rest of the orchestra.

From the pit, I tried to see what she was doing as the performance commenced. Half the time, her head was bent down over her program. At least Cinderella wasn’t a downer, I thought as I lifted my triangle. I felt like a bit of a juggler as I moved from instrument to instrument. At one point, I was thwacking a wooden block. It was not a very glamorous job, but at least I wasn’t shouting at a referee through a TV screen.

Afterward, I met Shannon in the atrium. I expected to see her looking frazzled and tired. The ballet had been three hours long, but she looked just as radiant as she had when she stepped through the doors.

“I guess you don’t hate ballet?” I remarked.

“I don’t?” she asked innocently.

“Of course, you don’t. If you were willing to throw Simon out for turning on a football game, you’d certainly discard me for making you watch a ballet if you didn’t want to.”

“I’ve never been to the ballet before,” she said.

“Did you like it?”

She smiled and evaded the question. “I made you a present,” she said as she returned the program I had given her.

“You made it?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

I took it from her and was about to open it when several members of the orchestra suddenly appeared. They waved at us and were about to walk by when one of them realized that Shannon was with me. He turned back, “Fletch, is this your date?”

The guy that had stopped was a world-class violinist. His name was Rodderick, and I disliked him, but suddenly less than usual. He would never have stopped to speak to me if Shannon hadn’t been standing next to me. Her claims that she attracted all men seemed valid. Rodderick and I had nothing in common, except perhaps that both of us wanted to be near her.

All at once, I knew exactly why my cousin, Simon, had wanted Shannon and why it had bothered him so much that she had not wanted him back. This was her in her element. The way she greeted my band-mates, tossed her curls, and practically made eyes at them was completely loveable. She even showed she was with me by slipping her arm through mine and rubbing my tricep in a show of intimacy. I didn’t know if I’d ever been with a woman who actively promoted me in public.

“How did you two meet?” Rodderick asked her.

She smiled wickedly. “I put a gun to his back and told him if he didn’t come with me, I’d shoot him.”

I stared. How had she delivered that line so well? She didn’t sound crazy, merely playful.

Rodderick looked like he was having a malfunction with the saliva in his mouth. She was mouthwatering. “Was it a real gun?” he finally asked.

“Not the kind that would have hurt anyone. That’s why I had to jab it into his back, so he wouldn’t recognize it was only a pellet gun.”

“Very inventive, but that can’t have been your first meeting.”

I was about to elaborate when I suddenly realized I was more interested in hearing how Shannon would describe the event.

She turned and gazed at me longingly before turning her attention back to Rodderick. “It was just a little trick to get his attention, and to see what kind of man he was.”

“Huh?”

She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I took a bit of a chance. He could have turned around, disarmed me in the blink of an eye, or he could have gotten scared and whiny.”

“What did Fletch do?”

She smiled her hundred-watt smile. It was the first time she’d done that in front of me and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. “It was better than either one of those things. He threw a smile at me over his shoulder. That’s his reaction to having the barrel of a gun shoved in his back. That’s why getting together with a percussionist is the best. They know how to strike a girl just right.”

I couldn’t believe she had actually said that. It was completely embarrassing, corny, and terrible, but very funny.

I laughed.

It was the first time she heard me do that. Most of the time, I laugh with my eyes or chuckle in my throat, but I don’t laugh outright.

At that second, Rodderick figured out why the two of us were together. He backed off a step. “You’re just joking about the gun,” he said because he realized that kind of joke was our sense of humor as a couple, and he didn’t like it because it was a joke meant only for the two of us.

It was funny how she had done that. It was like she had drawn a line that included everyone and then suddenly contracted it, so it only included us.

We said goodbye, wishing everyone a pleasant evening.

When we were out of earshot, she said, “You don’t like that man, do you?”

“He’s very arrogant,” I replied.

She nodded.

I had my overcoat hanging from my free hand the whole time we’d been talking and now I threw it over her shoulders.

“I have a table reserved at a Greek restaurant down the street. It might be cold out. You know, there’s a reason why women wear furs to the theater. It gets cold.”

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She looked at me. “I would never get cold when I’m with you.”

I looked back at her. My mouth had filled with saliva the same way Rodderick’s had. I swallowed and commented patiently, “That’s the sort of comment I would consider to be blowing hot.”

“That little thing?” she said, diminishing her compliment. “Walk with your arm around my waist. If we cuddle, I won’t feel bad for taking your coat.”

We walked. She entertained me with prattle so charming, I was disappointed when we got to the restaurant. Once inside, I was suddenly aware of how the building seemed to be crumbling around us and wished I had sprung for a better place. After all, I was probably never getting another date with Shannon, but she loved it. She walked in and told me how interesting it was. She pointed out spots of decor around the room I had never noticed and praised them.

I helped her ease out of my coat and saw the three bracelets on her wrist. She put her hand to her hip briefly and the metal clacked against itself in a sound that was almost musical.

“I get it,” I said, suddenly.

She turned to face me, letting her hand bounce up and then return to her hip. “You get what?”

“I get one of your tricks.” I pulled her chair out for her and let her sit down.

“Tricks?”

I sat down across from her. “Yes. Your best feature is your hips. You know that, so instead of wearing a necklace intended to draw attention to your breasts or dangling earrings intended to draw attention to your throat, you wear bracelets to draw the eye down to your perfect, shapely, hips.”

She laughed, less guarded than before. “No. You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” I asked, my eyes level.

“Yes. All my features are my best feature. I do wear necklaces and earrings for exactly the reasons you mentioned, but I also wear belts to accentuate my waist. I wore the bracelets tonight especially for you because I thought they would make little tinkling sounds, almost like a bell, and you would like that.”

I stopped and considered how much thought had been put into such a small detail. Again, I didn’t know if any of the women I had ever dated had noticed something like that about me or tried to please me. It was a little exciting that she had.

She picked up her menu. “Though I do have to say, even though all my features are my best feature, I don’t get as many compliments on my hips as my other parts. Maybe people think it’s vulgar to tell a woman she has nice hips or something.”

“Before, you said that’s how unsuccessful lovers attack you?”

She nodded.

“Well, they can be polite until they’re rejected. I can be honest. Your beautiful hips are probably causing you more problems in the men department than you realize. They're stunning.”

She looked at me, clearly reacting to what I said, but I didn’t think she would tell me how she felt. Either she was annoyed or moved. It was hard to say from the expression on her face.

I guessed she was moved, because she suddenly asked me, “Do you mind if I order for both of us?”

“I suppose not,” I said. It was my favorite restaurant to eat at after a performance, so I’d eaten everything on the menu.

Shannon waved over a waitress and ordered drinks and five different appetizers for us to share. When the food came, she dipped a torn piece of pita bread in hummus and motioned for me to open my mouth.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “I can feed myself.”

“You wanted the whole experience,” she reminded me with a light in her eyes.

I chewed. When my mouth was clear, I asked, “Do you always feed your dates?”

“Sometimes I sit on their laps,” she replied. “You can eat the wings by yourself.”

At the end of the meal, I popped into the bathroom to check my teeth. When I came back, I went to the till to pay, and the server informed me that Shannon had already paid the entire bill. I’d never had a woman pay the whole bill before.

I returned to the table.

“Where’s your car?” I asked.

“I don’t have one.”

“I’ll drive you home then,” I offered.

She picked up the program I’d left on the table and slipped it into my hand. “Don’t forget this. I don’t need a ride.”

“You’ll freeze.”

“I live close to here.”

“You do? I’m always down here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“It’s a big city, but I really do live just six blocks from here. Want to walk me home?”

I did. I covered her in my coat and we stepped back onto the city streets.

As soon as we were outside, she turned to me and said, “Now the date is over and you may tell me your impressions.”

“You’re poison,” I replied. “Which direction are we walking?”

She pointed, and we started moving.

“Did you feed Simon?”

“Often. Usually just popcorn, but yes.”

“Did you pay for his meals?”

“Sometimes. Mostly because he paid for mine sometimes. I just tried to keep it fair. Tonight I paid for yours as a bit of an apology for the inconvenience of last weekend.”

I didn’t respond to that, but asked, “Did you dress up like this for Simon?”

“This is how I look on a Friday night,” she replied.

“Of course, it is. You’re charming, but I have to ask you. What is your goal when you go on a date? Is it just to make the man weak in the knees? You want him to think you’re spectacular when you’re with him and hurting him afterward is just an unfortunate side effect of this whole show you like putting on?”

She smiled. “I put in so much more effort tonight. You got all the good stuff. I told you, I wanted to go on a date where I got to be myself instead of worrying about whether or not I would hurt you. You already know I’m a rat.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No?” she gasped in surprise.

“No. I want you so much my insides have turned to liquid and knowing you won’t have me is a bit much. I’d leave you here if I didn’t want my coat back.”

“Fletch,” she said with a click of her tongue. My name on her lips felt like she’d broken a bone. “I’m taking you home.”

“And what does that mean exactly?” I asked suspiciously.

“I’m showing you where I live.”

“So I can become like Simon? Become a man who stops by your place whenever I’m lonely and bored? You feed me popcorn, but place boundaries between us so I can never hope for anything more?”

“What are you saying?” she asked cautiously.

I had been about to say, “That won’t do for me. I have to have you all to myself. Be my girlfriend!” I had been about to say that when I suddenly realized that was exactly the wrong thing for me to say. She had told me she rejected men when they requested a monogamous relationship. I had been just about to demand one. If she hadn't told me that little hack to deal with her, I would have done what every other man did when they went on a date with her.

I decided I needed to cool the frick down.

“I live around here too,” I feigned. “Closer to the theater, but a loft apartment over an essential oil shop.”

“Fragrances by Evelyn? I know where that is!” she replied excitedly.

“I bet you do,” I said drolly.

“This is me,” she suddenly said. It was a tall brown building with a few shops on the main floor.

We were not quite at the doorstep. Knowing the traditional nature of what happens on a doorstep at the end of a date, I stopped her a few feet from it and turned her to face me. “I’m not going to have a relationship with you like the ones you’ve had with other men.”

“Of course not,” she said, matching my level of seriousness.

“I’m not asking you for anything,” I reiterated.

She nodded.

Then I kissed her. I put my hands under the coat she was wearing and for a moment, my hands were all over her back, her waist, her neck, and at that beautiful curve that led to her hips. She kissed me back. Obviously, being the ice queen had not left her very satisfied, but it wasn’t my job to satisfy her that night. In one glorious motion, I stripped the coat from her and the kiss ended.

She shivered, her arms hugging herself instantly.

I took a step away from her. “Good night, Shannon.”

She stuttered a goodbye to me as she stepped onto her doorstep, chilly from the sudden removal of my coat, my body heat, and my presence. It would do her good to finish a night feeling a little chilly. After all, that was what she had done to so many men.

I slid my coat on and strode away from her with a bounce in my step I hadn’t felt in years.

Back at my apartment, I finally pulled out the program she had returned to me and flipped it open. She’d mangled it. At first glance, her pen strokes looked like juvenile defacing. As I examined the marks more carefully, I realized they looked bad, not because what she wrote wasn’t interesting, but because the pen did not want to write on paper that glossy and she had not had a hard surface to write on.

In the margins, she wrote about how the music made her feel, with particular mention of how the music I played made her feel. Like the whole orchestra was nothing without the briefest tinkle I made with my triangle. It was the sound of a baby star being born.

Okay, that had been cute.

On another page, she described me and how infuriating she found me when we first met. It wasn’t exactly complimentary. It wouldn’t have been complimentary from another woman, but from her, the whole thing had a different flavor. Simon would have given his left arm to get under her skin so thoroughly.

On the second to last page, she wrote her address in the margin and said that if I ever decided to throw away the program she’d written me, she wanted me to mail it back to her. She’d pay for the postage.

On the very last page, she had written, “Kiss me at the end of the night.”

I felt vindicated.