Why I don’t write
Don’t ask …
I once met someone, she was a good looking, down to earth looking bird. Her eyes shone bright, cerulean blue, which seemed to swallow me yet lift me onto a cloud, that simple stare and elation arose. She had golden-brown hair, lustrous and shiny, a super-model sort of hairstyle. She even had perfectly formed ears, in proportion and nicely shaped. Her skin was soft, supple, smooth and creamy, she wore make-up at a bare minimum, just enough to enhance her naturally good looks.
Her attire, was smart, bossy and assertive, bright colors yet no so bright that it would seem to clash, her presence in wearing those sort of clothes was commanding, she exuded the confidence of a god, and with those looks she was able to dominate an entire group of people with just walking near them. She was the sort that you could not stop but stare while she walked past you.
Her fragrance, her odor, her sweet smell was amazing, arousing and bold. The perfume trailed behind her, lingering in the noses of the people she had infected with it, mesmerizing … with each inhalation, you were drawn into an exotic , perfect and fancy world.
She walked like she was the only person on the floor, the only person in the city, someone walking with real intent on doing something, no matter the obstructions in her way. She walked with grace and virtue and her head held high, re-enforcing her already strong personality and presence.
What I found most appealing were the curves, she wore them like a slim fitting, evening dress, how I can describe it as that eludes me, as it does not make sense in the least, but that’s my imagery of it. She had perfectly formed, long and defined legs, with the short smart boots and sneaking skirt, you wondered how perfect that body was without clothes.
She walked over to me and started talking with her honey like words and tone, she was assertive in her verbal interaction as she was with her physical presence, you almost get the feeling that you are not worthy talking just so that she could talk more, just to listen to that voice and relish the intoxication it caused.
What she said was not important, it was what you realized then … you are imagining your own, perfect, opposite gender self.
