The Kiss

concerning his attire—she had seen him before, after all—but the flashy Hawaiian shirt he wore wasn’t exactly first date material, if you asked her.
    She gave him a little finger wave, which he possibly missed, considering his gaze kept shifting towards her legs.
    “Short—skirt short . Nice—” He coughed and gave it another try. “What I tried to say before I choked on my own shoelaces was, hello, Eliza .” He approached her, visibly trying to think of what to do next before settling for a half-hug, half-pat-on-the-back that could have crushed her shoulder blade had it been a teensy bit stronger.
    His greetings obviously weren’t any more his strong point than his fashion sense was, but he was kind of cute.
    ***
    Bill told her he wanted to take her somewhere nice but didn’t feel like doing the cliché dinner-and-a-movie thing, so they’d go for movie-and-surprise-late-dinner instead.
    “Do you mind walking?” he asked. “I tried to borrow my cousin’s car, but he had a hot date—Not that you’re not hot. You’re pretty and all. And the skirt—” He raised his face to the evening sky. “God, I need more practice at this.”
    She giggled at his antics and linked her arm through his. “Nothing to practice, Bill. Unless you need extra lessons in walking. Now put one foot in front of the other and lead the way.”
    Chatting with him was easy, relaxed, she discovered during their fifteen minute walk to the movies, where Bill gleefully told her they had a showing of Barbarella . He was shocked she’d never seen it. She was shocked he took her to a movie that was supposedly all about sex on their first date, but reluctantly agreed to give it the benefit of the doubt.
    By the time the movie was over, Eliza had to agree it was a classic and couldn’t stop laughing at Bill’s gushing over Jane Fonda — quote: at her best . On the way out of the theater, she casually held her hand out, but was too engrossed by the posters announcing soon-to-come flicks to see it.
    On their way to dinner, they started talking about superheroes and favorite childhood cartoons.
    It was when they reached their destination that Eliza got worried. The park at night? Maybe Bill had something in mind other than a romantic first date, and judging by his friends…
    He must have sensed her unease, because he patted her hand lightly before unlocking it from his arm. “It’s a picnic,” he said. “See?”
    She did see. There, by the root of a huge tree, lay a checkered blanket, a big wicker basket on its center. With a sigh of relief, she followed Bill to the spot he’d chosen for their date and offered to help set things up.
    “No need; I’m the man.” He thumped his chest for emphasis. “I can handle it.”
    It soon became obvious that he couldn’t.
    He brought two long red candles out of the basket, only to realize there was no way they’d stand on the blanket, even if he ’d remembered to bring candleholders. Flustered, he started trying to inch them into the ground next to the blanket, but gave up after breaking one of them in two.
    Eliza could see his face fall with disappointment. “I’m sure the light coming from the street is enough for us to enjoy our meal and each other’s company,” she said.
    It was that last bit, each other’s company , that seemed to turn Bill’s frown upside down. He cast the useless candles aside and motioned towards the woolen throw on the ground. “After you, Milady.”
    The night chill had started creeping up her bare legs, and Eliza happily did as he bid. Two things became evident, though. Firstly, her strappy sandals were more for show than for walking; the heel of the right one gave way, sending her to land on her butt and taking away any possible shred of grace that could be involved in trying to sit on the ground while wearing a short skirt. Secondly, when one decided to go on a picnic, one had better made sure they did so somewhere dry .
    Sudden falls have the unpleasant side effect of sending a flowing skirt upwards, and Eliza’s naked ass came in contact with the soggy cover with a wet smack .
    Bill winced. He’d just managed to sit down cross-legged without spilling a drop from either of the two glasses of wine he’d stupidly filled before trying to take a seat, and he had no free hand to help her with. Instead he squirmed, opening and closing his mouth, obviously searching for something to say.
    “My side is dry,” he finally blurted.
    “I bet it