A Blind Date

I was banished from my home by Venus two months ago. Now i’m stuck down here on earth in an apartment meant for humans. I admit it’s an excellent apartment, but not nearly as roomy as my place on the moon. There i had a home fit for a goddess.. which i am by the way. I’m Eris. I’m going by the name Beatrix while i’m here though. It’s my mission in life to cause chaos and discontent everywhere i go. I don’t mean to be that way. It just seems to happen by accident. Okay, i admit i do it on purpose once in awhile, and when i was escorted down here to my temporary home.. I was pretty angry. I decided i was going to be as bad as i can be. But i’ve had a change of heart. I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf if that’s possible. My poodle, Thelma, who was sent here to keep an eye on me, is happy about that. She’s trying to be optimistic. She thinks if i’m successful in my attempt to be good, then Venus might let me go home sooner rather than later. We’ll see. So i went to an online dating site four days ago in an effort to meet a man of my own. I had plans to break up a relationship here, but that’s not exactly exemplary behavior. Anyway, i’m meeting a man i met online at an Italian restaurant called Toscano’s. I do so love Italian food. This place is close by, but i’ve never heard of it. I looked online for reviews and found none. I hope it’s good, and i hope i like this guy. I’ve called a cab. I could walk, but it’s a mile and a half away, and i’m wearing four inch heels. I could wear flats, but what fun is that? And they’re not nearly as sexy.

So the cab ride over is fine. I tip the driver very well for just a mile and a half. My date is waiting at a secluded table. He stands to introduce himself and pull out my chair. .. Hello Beatrix, i’m James Scorpio. We shake hands and i realize i never chose a last name to use. Goddesses don’t have last names after all. And believe it or not, i haven’t needed to use one yet. The first, or maybe second name that pops into my mind is Poirot. No idea why. James smiles and says, ah yes, like Hercule Poirot in Agatha Christie’s mystery novels. Once we sit, this leads us to a discussion about favorite books and authors. I say i love a good mystery.  My favorites are the books by Dorothy L. Sayers, the ones that feature Lord Peter Wimsey. I also like a good memoir, and i just read an excellent one about Elizabeth Taylor. Can’t remember the author’s name. James says he loves books by Lee Child. All the action. We order dinner. I order chicken marsala with a glass of chardonnay and he orders baked manicotti and a perfect martini made with gin. Interesting combination. And i think, so far, so good. I don’t have the slightest urge to do anything rash or untoward.

We eat and talk more about books. Then we talk some about travel. I can’t say much. I mean, it’s not like i can say i’ve been to the moon or Saturn or Jupiter, now can i?  As i eat and drink the surroundings become a little foggy, surreal. The food is so exquisite. I don’t think this is an ordinary restaurant. .. Beatrix, are you feeling well? … Oh yes, i’m fine, but I think i might be drinking my wine too quickly. ..  Well, we should both slow down and relax. He smiles a sexy smile and takes my hand. I feel warm inside. Oh oh.. I’m starting to feel a bit mischievous. Calm down, Eris. Get a grip. You’re trying to be good, remember?  Then i think, oh great, i’m talking to myself. I take another bite of my dinner, then look directly into James’ hazel eyes. His eyes are magical. There’s no other word for them. They’re the epitome of the term starry eyes. Then it dawns on me!  Scorpio… Scorpio!…

By M. Raynes

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