Dinner goes okay

Soft music is playing, something jazz-adjacent, just loud enough to help muffle the various conversations so that while the place is crowded the acoustics and lighting make it feel intimate. Colin came back to take your orders and deliver an appetizer “compliments of the Chef.” Now the two of you are noshing on something delicious involving quail and blueberry(?) sauce on a bed of something you can’t pronounce.

You look across the table, “Can I ask you to take off those glasses so I can see your actual face?”

She thinks about it for a moment and nods, “I suppose that’s a reasonable request.” She removes the glasses and the difference is instantaneous – where a second ago you were looking at an attractive woman, now you are sitting next to an exquisitely beautiful one. “Better?” she asks.

“Much! Better. Much better,” you stammer, having apparently lost control of your mouth.

“You clean up surprisingly well yourself by the way. That’s a nice suit.”

“I know. I don’t get to wear it very often but I like it.”

“It suits you.” You can't tell if the pun is intended or not.

Colin arrives with your entrees. Further conversation is delayed while you sample the dishes and make yum yum noises.

The food is amazing, almost as impressive as your date. You trade Worst First Date stories (hers involves an extra-dimensional imp and the God of Love). She laughs politely at your funny stories, puts up with your fan boy questions (Is Batman as badass as he seems? Are Power Girl’s boobs really that big? Are all the Amazons as hot as her? etc.) You feel a little awkward – she was so much easier to talk to when you had her tied up!

You wait until the plates have been cleared away before addressing the elephant in the room. “So. I guess we need to talk about the other night.”

Diana takes a sip of wine. “We do.”

“I’ve been a little **** to bring it up because, well I’ve been having such a nice time.” She doesn’t agree but nor does she disagree. “But. You said you would think about what happened.”

“I did,” she replies, her even tone giving nothing away. You pause to see if she wants to say more but she stays silent, studying her wineglass.

“And?” You can play terse too.

She sets her wineglass down deliberately. “I have been bound before, and never found it the least bit arousing. Perhaps because I was always so focused on escaping. The stakes were usually too high to let myself…”

“Enjoy yourself?” you suggest.

“Feel it,” she concludes.

“But the stakes were lower with me? I’m a little insulted.”

She makes a small scoffing noise, “You are not on par with Ares or Darkseid or the Joker. You weren’t looking to blow up the city or conquer the world or hurt anyone really, not even me. It was obvious the only threat from you was sexual.” She looks up at you and her face is hard, “Which is not to minimize the wrongness of what you did!”

“Of course not,” you nod in agreement but not in apology.

She looks away again, “And then you asked me questions no one had ever asked before and the lasso **** me to think about it, and I couldn’t lie to myself about how I felt.” She pauses to take a sip of wine, “As furious as I was, that anger only fed the sensation more. I had never felt anything like it.”

She pauses for a long moment, then meets your gaze. “I may decide to explore those feelings further sometime. However if I do, it will be with someone I know I can trust.”

Your heart sinks, “Someone…not me.”

She nods, “A part of me is grateful that you introduced me to a new experience. But I can never forgive what you did. I said I would have dinner with you and I have. But this is as far as we go.” Her voice isn’t cruel but her eyes are hard and pitiless.