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Early that evening Amelia went to Kitten's, the agreed place at the agreed upon time, but nobody else was there. Ordering a drink, she sat back to wait. As she waited, she thought about leaving, certain her online date had stood her up. Just then a tall woman dressed in black walked in and looked around for a place to sit. The attractive woman walked past Amelia and sat at the bar two stools down.
Thinking they should have exchanged photos or something to help identify each other. Amelia looked her up and down: closer to forty-five than forty, no rings on her fingers and obviously on the prowl if she's walking into a girl bar like this one. She's not here by accident. She has to be Miranda. So, Amelia makes the first move and introduces herself, it is Miranda. Five minutes later they were out of Kitten's and into a taxi.
Miranda takes Amelia to a swank apartment in Chicago's Near North Side. The rugs in her apartment are about a foot deep, huge room, a magnificent view of the lake, the high-rises like a wall running north. Miranda mixes them a pitcher of martinis, and their erotic evening begins.