A Game of Love

The 60s Disco seemed a great idea for a date. But now as I wait for Chloe, I start to worry.

I draw my stool nearer to the counter and order a drink.

Only one alcoholic drink this evening I tell myself, thinking of the car I had hired for the occasion. I must say, the idea of having it delivered at work was great. I bet Chloe will love the Ferrari.

It’s nearly half an hour since she texted me.

“Running late,” she said. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Psychedelic lights splash onto the ceiling walls and dance floor. The atmosphere is electric and everyone is singing at the top of their voice.

I look on as men with long-fringed wigs and girls in mini-skirts stomp to Glad All Over.

A group of girls beckon me to join them. “Come on,” calls one of them.

I smile but remain seated.

Having come here straight after work has disorientated me.

For God’s sake what’s keeping her?

I can’t wait to see Chloe in her 60s clothes. I bet she looks stunning. But then she is stunning anyway.

It is now twenty minutes since I heard from her and I begin to wonder whether she’s got cold feet.

Oh well, I grab my drink and notice someone has sat next to me.

His eyes are fixed on me and as I’m about to look away, he gives me a wink.

Oh no, this is ridiculous.

I turn to move away when a familiar voice comes to my rescue.

“Steve…”

I hardly recognise her.

“Wow, you look great,” is all I manage to say. I jump to my feet and offer her my place.

“Sorry I’m late – I couldn’t find my false nails.”

“No worries. You’re worth waiting for.”

Mr Winkie tightens his grip around his glass and makes for the dance floor.

Chloe’s shimmering top is embarrassingly low cut but I don’t bat an eyelid. Who cares – this is no ordinary date.

My mind is already racing to the end of the evening when I’ll drive her home and she’ll invite me in for coffee.

Chloe is now applying lipstick to her already scarlet lips and I feel a tremor in my legs.

She seductively crosses her fishnet-clad legs, giving me an eyeful of shapely thighs.

Ah good, the music has changed to Be My Baby and the atmosphere is now subdued.

“What are you drinking?” I ask.

“Babycham of course. The popular sixties drink for the ladies,” she says smugly.

“I see you’ve done your homework. Babycham with two cherries,” I call to the barman.

Now they are playing Poetry in Motion so I pluck up courage and put my arm around Chloe’s waist and accompany her to the floor.

“This song could have been written for you,” I comment and she giggles.

It’s not long before we are clinging to each other, our bodies swaying in unison to the music.

Her positive response to the little kisses I plant on her neck and décolleté makes me break into a sweat but she doesn’t seem to mind or care.

By the end of the evening I’m whispering in her ear and she loves every minute of it.

“I love you,” I tell her and I’m surprised how easily the words slipped from my mouth. I can’t remember the last time I had said them.

“I love you too, Steve,” she says and looks dreamily into my eyes.

“But Steve, you didn’t have to go to the extreme of hiring a Ferrari.”

“No, it had to be the whole hog or nothing. It was worth every penny.”

“I can’t believe we had got ourselves into such a rut,” Chloe says.

“Work, home, the children, money…we worry, get stressed and that’s when we forget to live.”

“Most of all, we forget to love,” she reminds me.

“Exactly. Your idea has brought me to my senses.”

“I told you my mother wouldn’t mind having the children.”

She gives me an enigmatic smile. “Our little game has spiced up things to no end.”

“So how about doing it again next year, for our seventh wedding anniversary?” I ask.

Written by: Nethi Sette