Our Night Out

When I got home, I was trying on my dress. I looked at myself in the mirror and I didn't recognize myself. I could never wear that. Where was my sweater? My faded jeans? Please, not those!

"He asked you to change. Don't go looking for trouble. Make him happy. You owe him that."

"At the time we were supposed to go to the nightclub, I found him very quiet. He looked at me sometimes, but it was when I got out of the taxi that all the Japanese guys stared at me like I was a piece of pastry to be devoured raw. I wanted to get back in the taxi and run away, but it was too late. He was starting to drive off just as I was turning towards him.

I whispered in his ear:

"My dress isn't right. Oh no, everyone's staring at us. I'm not used to this. I usually try to blend in." Can I hold your hand?

I was trembling and felt like I was blushing more than usual because of my shyness. It was going to be a nightmare. Maybe in the nightclub, with the lights dimmed, I'd return to some semblance of anonymity.

He was self-assured, authoritative, with a mocking attitude. At least he acted normally around me. I didn't know if that should reassure me.