Cristoph Stamos; Middle Aged, Wealthy, Businessman

Wondering who your crazy friend Teri has set you up with, you open the door.

"Hello. Ms. Summers?" A tall, well dress man in a very stylish gray Brunello Cucinelli suit, with a matching red and gold Robert Talbott tie, greets you. Though certainly impressed by his attire, his glasses, slightly worn skin, the few extra pounds he carries, and his salt and pepper hair and beard means he is at least twenty years your senior. "I'm Cristoph Stamos, your date for this evening."

Trying to hide your surprise at his age, you put on a friendly smile. "Yes, I'm Amy, please come in." You hold open the door and motion him to enter, as you begin the internal debate about how you feel about going out on a date with an older man, and if Teri thinks you're some sort of gold digger.

He gives a slight respectful bow, a courtesy unknown to the men of your generation and younger, as he enters your apartment. Once inside he turns and presents you with a small decorated wooden box with a golden bow on it. "For you, Ms. Summers. And if I may say, Mrs. Campbell's glowing description of you did not do you justice. That dress is most stunning on you. A Nicole Miller, isn't not?" His words are confident and direct, but his tone and manner are gentle and kind, befitting a man of experience and maturity.

"Yes it is." You almost blush at his compliment. The aged timbre of his deep, beautiful, voice, coupled with what you guess is a slight Mediterranean accent, is certainly alluring. The box is equally attractive, made of different stained pieces of wood carefully inlaid in a circular pattern. Insides are various chocolates, all handcrafted and expertly decorated.

"Thank you for the chocolates, they look delicious." You politely respond, knowing you will have to regift them because they would violate your low-carb ketogenic diet. "And the box is simply beautiful."

"Oh, don't worry." The older man smiles, "Mrs. Campbell, told me about your diet. I made them specially for you, they're all, what do you call them, 'fat bombs.' I've never heard about a such thing before. They proved to be quite a stimulating challenge, to make candies that have little carbohydrates in them.

"You made these yourself?"

"Yes." Cristoph nods, "though I did get some advice from one of my pastry chefs.

"So you're a cook?" You immediately cringe at your choice of words, realizing the more appropriate term was "chef," but fortunately, he seems unaffected by your gaff.

"Well, I started off as one," he answers without pretense, "but now I just own restaurants."

Mentally noting the use of the plural, and by his choice of clothing, you realize Teri has set you up with a very wealthy man. Your idiot ex had some money, but not on this level. Though you are not sure if you are offended or amused by Teri's choice, you have to concede from what you seen thus far, this Cristoph Stamos, is a gentleman of refinement and class, something you have not been accustomed too.

"Should we be going, Ms. Summers? My driver is waiting."