Better than the first

I hadn’t been this nervous since high school and my very very very first date.
But it became a little bit like panic when I realized I couldn’t seem to buckle the ankle strap and might have to wear a not-planned-for-a-week pumps.
Jenny’s laugh was amazing. I’d never seen someone become so open, so vulnerable like that. I heard her in my mind and, like a zen koan, I was suddenly in the moment, smiling, letting myself enjoy it.
The doorbell. I ran downstairs, almost falling thanks to one shoe on, one shoe in my hand.
I opened the door and she just glowed. I don’t remember saying anything. She cocked her head to one side, slightly.
“Are we having some issues?” She nodded at my problematic heel.
“Um, yes, I think, I…” I know I was blushing, and suddenly she was on one knee, slipping the shoe on my foot. I almost gasped as her fingers worked the buckle.
She looked up at me.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to be dressing you until our third date.”
She let the warmth of her breath glide along my inner thigh.

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