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Date Night

Updated: Mar 28, 2019

‘Date night’ was written in bold black letters and circled in red on the calendar. Every third Friday of every month had been marked this way. She grinned as she read those two words. It was her favourite day of the month. Work was done and she had an hour to make herself ready to meet him.

She ran up the stairs and looked in the mirror. Her makeup from work needed a touch-up, but her hair looked good today. She’d already laid out her clothes for tonight before going to work. Her sexiest lingerie replaced her practical underwear and her warm winter socks swapped for lace-topped thigh-highs.

She shimmied into her black dress, struggling with the zipper. It was starting to get a bit tight again. She made a mental note to go on a diet again soon. This was her favourite little black dress and she’d cry if she had to replace it. She touched up her makeup, going bolder for the night. Smoky eyes and lips the colour of blood. She touched up her hair and admired herself in the mirror.

She’d hardly aged at all since their first date so many years ago. She remembered it well and many of the ones that followed. They vowed, even after they got married that, no matter what happened, they’d always have a real date every month. And they’d kept that promise to each other.

She bounded back downstairs and grabbed her long wool coat. It would keep her toasty against the chill. Knee-high stiletto boots finished off her look. She had no doubt of how sexy she looked. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that.

It didn’t take long for her to get to the same restaurant they always met at. She walked right in as if she owned the place and took her usual seat. She checked the time, already knowing that she was early. She was always early, eager to see him walk through those doors, looking more handsome than any leading man.

Wine poured and waiting. She didn’t dare take the first sip without him and right on time, he appeared. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beat faster. If she could have, she would have run across the room and wrapped herself around him. But she didn’t. She waited for him to come to her.

“Hello, my love.” His rich baritone voice sent shivers down her spine. “I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said and picked up her glass with a trembling hand. “I always miss you when you’re not near.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

They whiled away the time over drinks and food. Somehow, they never ran out of things to talk about and, as always, the evening passed far too quickly for them both. Her watch beeped and she winced. So, did he.

“Is it already that time?” He asked and she nodded, not trusting her voice. It was the worst part of the night. “Same time next month?”

She nodded again, holding back tears. Her lips trembled as she tried to smile for his sake. Not wanting him to see her cry this time. She knew it hurt him when she did. When his form faded and she could no longer feel the cold ghostly touch of his fingers entwined in hers, she let the dam break. Tears poured down her face as she sobbed, not caring about the scene she made. There was no one to see her in this old abandoned place.

God, how she missed him, but she was lucky that they’d made that promise. It was the only thing that kept bringing him back to her. Once a month was better than never.

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