Blue Eyes By Candlelight.

Thanks for the invitation to dinner. Remember what happened the last time we had supper together? You asked me what you should wear and I said the red dress so I could whisper the words of "lady in red" in your ear.

And you said, no, you wanted to wear the little black dress because the red dress was so tight it made you *** look fat. And you wouldn't be able to wear anything under it as it would show.

I got to your place at, what was it, half past eight? And you asked me why I was late and I said it was raining and the cabs were all full. We drank a bottle of wine before supper then you lit the candles on the table and served me with your little white apron tied around the waist of your black dress.

We had strawberries and cream for dessert and fed each other, giggling like kids when the cream dripped down your chin and I leant across the table to kiss it away. I offered to wash the dishes and you said "thanks I'll dry then because the soapy water is bad for my hands."

Later when we'd had coffee you brought a bottle of champagne into the lounge which I opened and poured for us. It made you light headed and you said who knows what might happen if you had another one and I said "that's what I've been planning on lady." You laughed and put your hand up to my cheek.

You put on Dido's White Flag, wasn't it? And you took off your shoes and we danced, closely, you in your bare feet and me, well me just on my big clumsy feet. You held your right hand behind my neck and your left hand around my waist and I had both my hands around your waist and your face was inches from mine. Your sweet warm breath fanning my cheek, your full lips parted in a small smile and your beautiful blue eyes sparkling.

Dido stopped singing and we were still dancing to the beat of our hearts now and I drew you close and you smiled up at me, your head tilted back and your moist lips parted. Then you stopped dancing and took my hand, leading me slowly down the passage to your bedroom.

The little black dress seemed to sigh as it dropped to the floor around your feet.

Later you smiled up at me as I leant over you and a small tear squeezed out of the corner of your eyes. They slowly trickled down your cheeks and I kissed them, tasting their warm saltiness.

"You're crying." I remember saying.

And you whispered: "Lips that taste of tears are the best for kissing."

Decent enough post - but it reads like a cross between a journal entry and a love letter to your date. Not sure what the rest of us are meant to get out of it it.

H

Yeah, I was going to say the story doesn't really contribute anything to the pre-existing realm of fiction, at least not much of anything new in terms of style and content. We've read similar stories several times before.

Even so, this is written competently; it seems generally free of grammar and spelling errors. In this free-wheeling age, that's an achievement.

This is kind of sweet, verging on too indulgent. The reader feels like an imposter, since it is almost too personal or as Hill said a love letter. With that said, the two characters had a lovely chemistry.