She had done this many times before and each time she'd be nervous. She looked at herself in the long mirror and checked her makeup. Leaning in close she checked for flaws in her blush to make sure it looked as natural as possible. She puckered her lips checking her lipstick and stepped back to be certain that the mascara and eyeliner were just right. Once satisfied, her scrutiny went toward her hair and thought it looked like too much effort was placed on making it look good. She didn't want really good, she just wanted nice enough. She didn't want to be obvious when she met him and men can always tell in the hair, that is if they paid attention to hair. But just in case, she didn't to take chances, first impressions are very important and this one more so than any other.
As she made her way through the luxury hotel suite that Edward had arranged for to stay in she undid her hair going over what it was Edward had said about the man she was about to meet. He said his name was Walter and that he was a poet, but not just any poet. Walter was heavily involved in politics in his country and the reason for his being in Paris was that he was running away for raising protest against his government. She didn't care about the man's politics, her concern was the part about him being a poet. She would have to go back in her mind to try and remember all the poems she had learned in school and on her own. That was easy, it was trying to remember the foreign poems that would be hard. Trying to get the accents and phrasing right. Then she thought about what languages did he speak? Obviously English and French, but what else? Slavic? Swahili? Portuguese? She hadn't read every poet in the world only a few.
She looked into the mirror once again and resolved to leave her hair the way it was and thought that she other things to worry about. This is Paris! All the women look sexy so she left her hair alone. Edward told her that Walter wasn't exactly handsome but not really ugly either. She didn't care about that now, her problem was poetry. She didn't know what to talk about. This was a poet she's be talking to. Thoughtless prattle isn't something she could use. It worked on politicians pretty well, they were all stupid. Just being pretty was enough, but Walter is a poet as well as a politician and thoughtless prattle wouldn't work on him. She needed a topic.
Maybe instead of poetry she would talk about politics, but then he'd probably ask her what she thought about the state of the world and she really didn't want to talk politics, at least not with Walter. What dilemma she thought to herself. How was she suppose to impress Walter? Maybe French poetry would work. She knew a few French poems. If that didn't work she could always go to the classics like Milton or Shakespeare, those were always good. But Walter was a poet, so maybe Shakespeare would be the best bet. Her worry began to subside when the watch by the lamp caught her eye time was becoming scarce.
As she went to the closet to pick something out she wondered what it was she should wear. Edward had suggested her wearing a black slinky dress but she thought that would be to much. It may be Paris but there's no way she was going to wear a slinky dress. Maybe if she were going to meet Walter at a club but she was meeting him in a little bistro and a slinky dress wasn't going to cut it. Besides Walter's a poet. What would a poet like to see? A dress was the definite answer but what kind of dress? Why did he have to be a poet? Politicians were so much easier to impress. The only presumptions they have are the one's the bodyguards give them. Politicians were stupid. She thought back to what Edward told her about Walter and she remembered that Edward mentioned that Walter was married. Why would Edward mention that? Most of the guys she met through Edward were married. She had assumed that Walter would be no exception. Maybe Edward wanted her to be sure who it was she was dealing with thoroughly. Edward always liked telling her about how she's doing the wife a favor, but she always attributed that to Edward's dark sense of humor.
She looked at her watch again and saw that ten minutes had flown by. She took the dress off the coat hanger a tried it on. Edward told her not to wear any underwear underneath. He said, "Men get turned on faster when women don't wear any underwear." What a stupid suggestion. Who the hell was he to tell her how to turn a man on? "I've been a woman all my life and you're telling me what turns a man on?" The thought momentarily made her pause. She looked at herself in the mirror with the dress on and turned around checking to see how it looked. Soon she no longer saw the dress but started to study her figure. What a figure it was, she thought to herself. She had always been proud of her figure. It wasn't terribly thin nor was it fat. She was nice trim and petite. She loved that. A smile came over her face as she saw herself, "Tres bien." French was one of her favorite languages. She loved the way the words dripped out of her mouth like the juice from a delicious fruit. The pure sensuousness of the language got her excited. When she spoke French to other men, she loved the way they cooed and hissed at the luscious words coming from her lips.
As she looked over herself one last time she decided on wearing the dress without a bra. Her breasts weren't very big but not diminutive either. They were perfect to her. She thought having medium breasts were better than big ones. She wouldn't have to worry about age having a drastic affect on them, and she was glad that she had perky one's at that. Maybe that's why Edward picked her to meet Walter, who knows. Looking at her watch once again, she noticed that she had very little time left and went into the living room to get her purse. On her way out the door she looked at herself in the mirror one last time, adjusted a few things and left.