1
It's 4pm Friday, Dr. Jenkins, my former college professor just left the lounge across from campus. I occasionally collaborate with him when seeking advice on one of my obscure cases.
I realize I'm now the only person in the establishment in a suit, as well, the only person over 25, the local rowdy students are taking over.
I receive another highball, pondering where to eat tonight, when she enters, stopping just inside the door. Allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim surroundings, she peruses the room, as I scan her elegance.
She removed her white gloves, tugging each finger individually, tapping them on her left palm before inserting the pair into a white designer purse, hanging from her shoulder by a gold chain. No doubt she is a model, or possibly a celebrity.
Now, she either knows this is a college bar and is looking to hook up with a young buck or two. Or she's just entered an unknown bar and she's mature enough not to be interested in the other patrons.
The first thing to catch my attention is her unique mesmerizing eyes, somewhere between, grey, and light green, eerie, yet extremely intriguing. Her expressionless face with a serious, studious gaze, like seeing everything for the first time, almost peering beyond, rather than focusing on what is right in front of her. A slight smile appears on her puffy lips. Her face is flawless, gorgeous, if she is wearing any makeup, it is imperceptible. She has a sultry, pouty appearance, profoundly provocative and enchanting. Her wavy, platinum blonde locks with a few sparse, thin, blue highlight streaks, cascading over her shoulders, and resting on her abundant bosom, she's packin a pair of 38's is my initial guess.
I estimate her to be late 20's, possibly 30, an exquisite body, enticing. Accentuating her hourglass figure is the snug fitting, pale yellow, knit, mini dress; leaving no doubt she is braless. At first glance, I would estimate her measurements to be 38-23-34. Her long, sculpted legs are wrapped in shiny, sheer, silk stockings. Most would put her in the category of 'out of my league' and just ogle her like 98% of the population.
I discovered through detailed research, while doing my psychology thesis on the subject 'Female Sexuality and Satisfaction'; for that exact reason, the sexier they are, the less they're approached, therefore, the less action they get. Leaving them frustrated and unsatisfied, becoming hornier, craving more sex, while inhibitions diminish.
If they are in a profession with a selection of similar sexy people, as models and celebrities, then the turn to each other for gratification, albeit generally shallow and often short lived, as they constantly seek better.
In the general public, these elite beauties often become predators; bold and wild.
That is what I believe has entered this college bar. A sexy beast that needs her primal needs met.
We made direct eye contact. I winked, a slight nod, over my glass, as I drank.
Maintaining eye contact, she moved fluidly, like a runway model, one foot crossing directly in front of the other, her upper body rigid, her hips swaying seductively, she paused a foot in front of my table. Now that she's closer, she has on lip gloss, and a light silvery blue eyeshadow, enhancing her riveting, rare eye color.
Impeccable, exquisite, alluring, and totally aware of it.
I spoke first.
"Being as stunning as you are, I doubt there's an opening line you haven't heard; so, why don't you join me, have some libations, cut right to the inevitable; tell me what you desire, share an erotic fantasy, and we refine it to suit both our needs and consummate it later."
"Well, I did believe I'd heard them all, but congratulations, full marks for creative originality." She leans forward, shrugging the chain from her shoulder, placing her handbag on the table; her well-manicured nails displayed on the table. I am afforded a wondrous view of her cleavage. I believe an intentional, provocative, move on her part. To coin a fisherman's phrase, 'presentation of the bait.'
"Ok, I prefer brain over brawn, I'm in pursuit of intellectual conversation and companionship, insouciant as to gender, or relationship status; passing time with friendly persiflage over drinks; sanguinity of future friendship."
She peers directly into my eyes, likely anticipating me to be dazzled, confused, unable to comprehend her words, therefore unable to intelligently respond.
I set my glass down, smile.
"You are particularly articulate, breathtakingly beguiling and incontrovertibly intellectual; a profoundly provocative combination; what's your profession?"
"English professor diurnal; nocturnally, concupiscent."
"Well, I'm Liam, phycologist, let me audition; might you consider brain and brawn unitized?"
I gesture her to sit.
With a smile, releasing her purse, she slid into the booth with me. I beckoned the waitress with a hand gesture.
"Alas, I must warn you, I've already conceptualized debaucherous activities with your sensational anatomy."
I lean forward, barely above a whisper, close enough my hot breath could be felt on her neck.
"So, not knowing your probable diverse sexual orientations, if your prognosis doesn't include us in congruous copulation, please spare me the anguish of anticipation and leave me with my lecherous fantasy, allowing me to admonish my lugubrious with libations; regrettably solo."
