His beautiful blue eyes searched mine as he took my hands and turned me to face him. I couldn't help but smile, he was adorable in a boyish kind of way and just a little shy. He lowered his gaze breaking eye contact, swinging our arms together nervously. I sensed he had a proposition but was fearful of rejection, haven't we all been there? I waited patiently. "Would you like to share a bottle of wine?" he ventured. "I know a place where they have a fabulous cellar. My favorite thing in the world is a good bottle of wine! Of course it is up to you-whatever you want to do...." he added, shyly looking away. Being a lover of the grape myself, I agreed. "That sounds really nice" I smiled. He looked like a boy at Christmas who just got a new bicycle. "Great! It's not far, are you okay to walk? If your feet hurt we can take a taxi" he offered. (5 bonus points) It was such a beautiful evening - the weather was fine, the moon reflecting off the Seine like a million stars twinkling, the imposing figure of Notre Dame luminescent and magical providing the ultimate backdrop for romance. I preferred to walk. We joined the tourists and lovers crowding the sidewalks along the Rive Gauche strolling parallel to the Seine, the bateaux in the water below ferrying crowds of visitors like giant snails moving toward the Ile St. Louis. Houseboats moored permanently to their docks lined the shoreline, many having been there for generations. Low offered his arm, and for a moment in time I felt as if we had joined the ranks of the amourous, Paris has a way of casting her spell! Parisians were dining on the terraces as we passed by, (the peak dinner hour being from 9:00-10:30) the cleverest having secured the best seats to enjoy the parade. Black vested waiters scurried about with plates of confit du canard and bottles of Badoit while a Jack Russell terrier enjoyed his own plate of steak tartar at the feet of his master. Low led me off the main drag to a quiet street with no traffic and few pedestrians into a tiny but quaint cave. The heady aroma of oak and fruit was sensual, it was dimly lit with votive candles and I was sure I detected the undertone of a good Cuban cigar. If he was trying to seduce me (and I was quite sure that he was), he was certainly doing a good job! The place was as unpretentious as he was, and as comfortable. "Do you prefer red wine or white?" he offered as he perused the list. We were in agreement, red is where it's at and he subtly ordered a bottle of Bordeaux that was older than I am. We chatted and sipped and laughed until the proprietaire asked us to leave, it was closing time and yet it seemed as if time had stood still, losing all motion, relinquishing her power over us. It was now after 2 a.m., long past the departure of the last train home. There was nothing to do but find the nearest taxi stand and brave the queue - getting a taxi after the metro shuts down for the night is about as easy as finding one in Manhattan on a rainy day! We made our way hand in hand, our heads buzzing from the wine, smiling sweetly at one another. I liked Low, he was a genuinely nice guy and so easy to be with. We took one last lingering look at Notre Dame and before we turned to enter the maze of streets which would lead us to available transportation, he tenderly cupped my face in his hands and kissed me sweetly. We were accompanied by the proverbial "elephant" to the taxi stand. Another question loomed before us. Did Low ask me: a) to go back to his hotel, b) for my phone number, or c) to meet the next day ? Find out next week on your Friday night French Ro-Com!
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