Before he gets half way through his introduction, you are midflight over the back of the chair, catching your foot on the top of the couch and crashing down headong into the table and lamp next to the kitchen.  Shockingly, the lamp survives the fall unscathed, you are not quite so lucky.  You jump to your feet and limp to the phone just before he says his farewell. 

 

"Hello?   Ristain?   Are you still there?" you plead, exasperated.  

 

"Yeah!  Hey, I thought maybe you were still sleeping.  Hope I'm not calling too early."  He apologizes. 

 

"N-n-n-n-no" you stutter, trying not to sound to eager.  "I've been up for a while"  you lie, looking down at the spot of blood starting to soak through your sweats.  "What are you up to?"

 

"Getting ready to start painting but I thought I'd see if you were up for some breakfast first."  You light up at the invitation. 

 

"Sure"  you exclaim, trying to sound nonchalant, "what time?"

 

"I'm thinking now, I'm starving.  Give me directions to your place and I'll swing by and pick you up."  he says enthusiastically.

 

You give him some simple directions to your place and hang up the phone.  You are glad that you already took a shower last night.  You dash to your closet and frantically sort through the piles of unfolded jeans and shirts looking for that delicate balance of paint worthy and incredibly sexy.  You finally choose a pair of somewhat worn and incredibly flattering pair of jeans.  You throw on a white v neck t shirt and call it good.  The outfit definately aires on the side of sexy and less on the side of paint worthy. 

 

"