My Beautiful Surprise

At eight o'clock she rapped lightly on his door and entered at his invitation. Again Mark's breath caught in his chest as she walked into the room. Her blonde hair was woven into a French braid. She wore little makeup that he could discern, but her red lipstick contrasted perfectly with her charcoal jacket and matching slacks. She wore a light, clingy and soft cranberry top with a neckline sufficiently wide and low to reveal delicious cleavage. Open-toe leather heels with thin straps completed her outfit.

In his golf shirt, faded denims and well-used Tony Lama high-heel boots he felt out of place and somewhat dusty. He looked down at his jeans and boots, feeling self-conscious, then realized that he could have dressed differently. The clothes were in the closet. He felt odd because of the beauty now standing before him. And try as he might, he could not drag his eyes away from her luscious breasts that trembled as she had walked toward him.

"If you don't mind my saying so," he said to her, "you are so lovely." He grinned somewhat sheepishly, and she felt an endearing tug at her heart that she unsuccessfully fought.

"And if you don't object, Mr. Holloway, I can say the same for you. I think your hair is beautiful. I have never seen so much lovely hair on a man."

"Chalk it up to my mother, Juanita. She quit cutting it when I was ten. Now I've gotten used to it and I like the way it feels. And thank you, Madison. You can, of course, call me Mark and I will be much happier. When you say Mr. Holloway I have an identity crisis."

They walked into the hallway and he closed the door behind them. They took the elevator to the first floor and Leister's Sidewalk Café which he knew to be misnamed in several respects. It was nowhere near a sidewalk, no one named Leister had ever owned or managed it, and strictly

speaking it was a buffet and restaurant, not a café. But it did offer a variety of the best breakfasts available in Atlanta and its clientele came from several miles around.