It was the middle of Valentine's Day (well actually it was already evening), my first Valentine's Day in this body, and I was just waiting for Tom to show up. Antonio was busy and had gone to Europe with some French girl. Not that I was jealous or anything, I have to admit she had a nice ass and I'd love to fuck her myself someday. He gave me the few days off to do something, and part of my free time happened to be on Valentine's Day, where Tom and I decided to go out for a romantic dinner and also something else. Unfortunately, Tom was apparently late. I wonder if he was trying to use a tactic the guys and I used in college, where we'd purposely show up late on dates to make the women worry. I admit I'm starting to understand them a bit now. But on the other hand, if Tom doesn't show up, it's his loss. He's not the only fish in the sea—he's the most attractive and skill one, obviously, but not the only one. If anything, I'll call one of my co-stars who's available and spend the evening with them for sex. But luckily for him, Tom showed up right after the thought occurred to me and surprised me by bringing a truly beautiful bouquet. As a man, I generally hated flowers and considered them unnecessary, but as a woman, I have to appreciate their beauty and artistry. He even pulled them out in the middle of winter, which speaks for itself. He took look at my red, in my opinion also modest, dress and he was speechless. We went to dinner together, where we discussed movies, like science fiction ones (I admit I've always been a bit of a fan), and what we'd been doing recently, and how things were going. After dinner, we went to a rented hotel room where we spent the night together by candlelight. I admit, I felt a bit bad about ruining the dress after we ripped it, but at the same time, the night itself was so enjoyable, I could easily rip a thousand dresses like it.
