Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
We met at the theatre, the room was full of people waiting for the show to start, champagne was flowing and everyone was dressed beautifully, I was glad to see people still dress up and make an effort to see theatre these days.
I was standing next to a huge bouquet of flowers with my glass of champagne, mum had gone to powder her nose.
I was looking around the room watching animated conversations, there was a man around my mothers age across the other side of the room next to the marble staircase. Our eyes caught, I gave a half smile and looked away back to the glass in my hand.
I could sense he had kept on looking, I glanced back up and saw that he had started walking across the room towards me.
Just as he was close enough to speak mum came back, she was talking about the long line at the bathroom and why they should update these old theatres to have more women’s toilets.
I had kept my eyes on the man who had kept on approaching. Mum glanced towards him and smiled. I was feeling awkward and wondering how I would explain this to her, but I didn’t need to as he addressed her first commenting on her dress, mum was pretty used to flattery from strangers and handled it well, always smiling and gracious at first.
She smiled and thanked him and asked what he thought of the show and if he’d seen it before. He had and was a regular on the scene. I was surprised I had not seen him before. He kept his eyes on mum but kept glancing at me, he then turned full focus on me and asked my name. I introduced myself and held out my hand to shake, he had smooth, large hands and didn’t give a hard handshake that allot of men tend to do like it’s a competition or contest of manhood.
He asked if I enjoy the theatre or if I was just accompanying my mother. I’d grown up my whole life with a beautiful mother, her beauty was not to be judged or questioned, she had been blessed by the genetic lottery with symmetrical features, cat like eyes and a heart shaped mouth hanging off of chiselled, knife edged cheekbones.
At this age and from quite a young age I was able to judge a mans character and motives towards me and in the end my mother who was the ultimate reason. I was usually just an obstacle in their way, which unlike something inanimate could not be removed with brute force. This was a game of intellect, patience and scheming which was a true test for most of the men who were led to my mother by their dicks.
This felt somewhat different, I was the initial target, unless this was a scheme that was underway long before my attention was caught across the room. Maybe this man had seen mum and I at another show or even just earlier this evening and hatched a plan starting with me, to go for the young prey whilst my mother was otherwise occupied. And if so this was going to be an interesting game and I was impressed.
I told him I was actually the one to bring my mother to this particular show and that I had seen it multiple times.
We were interrupted by the hollow dinging of the house bells rounding everyone back to their seats for the final interval.
He introduced himself as Brian and asked what we had planned for after the show, to see if we were interested in having a coffee or nightcap, my mother gave me a knowing look as if to say the ball was in my court. I was interested to see how this situation was going to pan out but I told him we might need to leave it to be decided at the end of the show.