A Passing Delight
©2010 D. Paul Angel
I was almost down the stairs when she came around the corner. I saw her mere moments before she saw me. She was wearing a silky, dark green blouse, black Capris, and her usual array of gold necklaces, rings, and bracelets. Blonde curls bounced across her slender shoulders as she entered the stairwell. I fought the temptation of letting my eyes linger on the hint of cleavage promised by her blouse to focus on her eyes. Naturally grey, today they reflected her blouse with a shimmery jade.
Even though the stairwell was usually loud, I could tell I had surprised her by the way her eyes, her beautiful eyes, widened ever so slightly at my sight. She smiled automatically as she would at anyone, but then her lips pursed in unconscious evaluation. The far corner of her ruby red lips lifted in a beckoning tease of flirty subtlety; a half smile of acknowledged attraction. She knew who I was, too.
We moved away from each other without thought. The polite parting of ways so another can pass through a narrow space. But not so far as we would for a stranger or another co-worker. She passed by closely. Sipping from the same air, I could smell the sweetness of her shampoo, the subtle tones of her light perfume; the complex fruits of her lotion. I knew as well she could smell my essence, and I wondered if it conveyed my desire as we each leaned in a bit more as we passed. The motion was fluid, a continuation of the movements we were both in the middle of not more than a second before, but we each still slowed, too. Even if it was just a touch.
My mind raced ahead as I reached out and put my arm around her back, arresting her motion, and pulling her into my grasp. She held me close as well and as our eyes locked onto each others, as though for the first time, conveying the most primal of messages. I could feel my heart race as her lips, now moist, parted ever so slightly. I leaned in and gently brushed my lips against hers. She responded, her eyes closed, reaching forward seeking out my lips...
The jangling of the bracelets on her arm as she raised her hand to wave snapped me back from my reverie. The dream, the fantasy, in my mind lasted for all the time it took for her to raise her arm. But in my head it was long enough to build a life with her.
"Hello," she said. Softly.
©2010 D. Paul Angel
I was almost down the stairs when she came around the corner. I saw her mere moments before she saw me. She was wearing a silky, dark green blouse, black Capris, and her usual array of gold necklaces, rings, and bracelets. Blonde curls bounced across her slender shoulders as she entered the stairwell. I fought the temptation of letting my eyes linger on the hint of cleavage promised by her blouse to focus on her eyes. Naturally grey, today they reflected her blouse with a shimmery jade.
Even though the stairwell was usually loud, I could tell I had surprised her by the way her eyes, her beautiful eyes, widened ever so slightly at my sight. She smiled automatically as she would at anyone, but then her lips pursed in unconscious evaluation. The far corner of her ruby red lips lifted in a beckoning tease of flirty subtlety; a half smile of acknowledged attraction. She knew who I was, too.
We moved away from each other without thought. The polite parting of ways so another can pass through a narrow space. But not so far as we would for a stranger or another co-worker. She passed by closely. Sipping from the same air, I could smell the sweetness of her shampoo, the subtle tones of her light perfume; the complex fruits of her lotion. I knew as well she could smell my essence, and I wondered if it conveyed my desire as we each leaned in a bit more as we passed. The motion was fluid, a continuation of the movements we were both in the middle of not more than a second before, but we each still slowed, too. Even if it was just a touch.
My mind raced ahead as I reached out and put my arm around her back, arresting her motion, and pulling her into my grasp. She held me close as well and as our eyes locked onto each others, as though for the first time, conveying the most primal of messages. I could feel my heart race as her lips, now moist, parted ever so slightly. I leaned in and gently brushed my lips against hers. She responded, her eyes closed, reaching forward seeking out my lips...
The jangling of the bracelets on her arm as she raised her hand to wave snapped me back from my reverie. The dream, the fantasy, in my mind lasted for all the time it took for her to raise her arm. But in my head it was long enough to build a life with her.
"Hello," she said. Softly.
