Science say it takes three seconds to judge somebody’s attractiveness. That’s all it took for him to realize, head to toe, inside and out, that she was gorgeous.
(3..) Her pedicured nails, her glistening legs, her dress that (2…) perfectly outlines her figure. Power, class, self-respect, (1..) ambition, independence, beauty. Flash. Her characteristics noted in three seconds.
He’s almost caught off guard when, just as his eyes reach her face (and he’s captivated), her eyes slowly rise to meet his (even more captivated).
Locked in, neither looking away, their conversation starts, without words but with full communication: Pleasure to meet you.
His eyes move from her left to right eye, down to her lips, up again locking back to her blues. She’s powerful, fully able to handle his stare, holding her ground, inviting him in while also pushing him away, a test. She doesn’t make the first move, the guy has to be better than that. He instinctively licks his lips, barely realizing it, barely noticeable, just enough for her to see, for her friends to disappear and his friends to disappear, for her to bite her bottom lip, for the path between them to clear. Test passed. Slowly he stands, placing his half full glass of Scotch on the bar as he turns to face her, straight on.
Steps, one after another, slowly, directed at her. Posture, straight and powerful, as his eye stay locked on hers and nothing else, still speaking directly to her, with his body, his eyes, his movement. Not arrogant, not cocky, just confident enough for her to know that it’s true confidence.
Right, left, right. Past the crowds who no longer exist in his field of vision, nothing distracting him from her. Eye contact, deep and real. She handles it, sending back her half of the conversation. She’s not nervous, not fidgeting or breaking their conversation: she’s inviting him in, almost all the way, but still putting up a barrier that she knows he will walk right through.
Closer and closer, wheels down for approach, and just a few more clicks of the leather soles as he slides past her friends, who aren’t even really there, directly up to her, eye still locked, close enough to hear her breathing slow and deepen as he holds her welcoming eyes with his subtle power, close enough to inhale her icy exhale. No words: their eyes and bodies performing all the communication.
Breathing. Hers, out. His, in.
He reaches up to her neck and in one flowing down river motion pulls her in, mouth to mouth as their conversation turns into an intimate dance, body to body. There’s no music, no people, no friends, no time, nothing else besides the two of them holding each other, dancing in their own world, lips and skin.
He pulls away slowly, still holding her, still face to face, eyes still dancing, pulling back but still close enough to hear her breathing, deep and heavy.
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Sunday Short Stories (SSS) are a creative outlet for me to share experiences from my journeys. Some of the stories true, some are fiction, and some are a mix of both. A lot are about girls. Some are about adventures. All are about travel. Enjoy…