The first thing I noticed about her was the pair of rose gold peep toe heels on her feet. It's not that I'm big into feet or footwear in general, just that the shoes drew a lot of attention. They were incongruous with the rest of her outfit in a way I found strangely compelling. Come to think of it, her entire look was incongruous with the quiet, shaded sidewalk that ran between my apartment building and the one next door. The most common genre of person to be found on that sidewalk was someone walking their dog in sweats and a t-shirt--their most distinctive feature tending toward whether they were compulsively hitting a vape, or talking to an unseen AirPod.
She was dressed as if she had just returned from a day at the Renaissance Fair. Except those heels. She had a flowing emerald skirt that extended all the way to her ankles, and a cream-colored bodice with brown embroidery which succeeded in flattering her petite, feminine figure. Her chestnut hair was very long, spilling over her back in lustrous waves.
And she was walking toward me slowly, those rose gold heels sparkling in the sun as they clacked faintly on the sidewalk that led to the door of my apartment.
For my part, I had just stepped out of my front door and closed it behind me when I looked up and saw her. My camera was slung over my shoulder, and I was much closer in appearance to the stereotypical dog-walking-neighbor than to the mesmerizing drip of the young beauty that drew closer with each faint clack.
I knew I was staring. I'd just lost control of my voyeuristic nature. It took what restraint I did have to refrain from popping off my lens cap and snapping a photo of her. That would have been a bridge too far. I figured she would turn down one of the walkways and disappear into an apartment.
She did not.
She passed the last pair of walkways before my own. I could finally make out her face properly in the same moment I realized the only place she could be going was to me. Her eyes were brown, the same shade as her hair. She had high, prominent cheekbones and pink blush on her cheeks. Her lips were thin, and her mouth was wide as it pulled into a nervous smirk.
My sense of unreality only deepened when I realized she had been looking directly at me for the duration of her walk to my front door.
I had the sensation of being held under a spell by her gleaming brown eyes. Her footfalls seemed to synchronize with the beat of my heart, pounding in my ears. She stopped an arm's length away. Her smirk broadened as she held out a bright white envelope.
My eyes narrowed in confusion as I looked down at it. My arm drifted up to take it, seeming to act of its own volition. In the moment my fingers closed around it, I noticed her fingernails were painted the same shade as her skirts. My heart seemed deafening in my ears when I realized that my name was written on the front. It was unsealed, and the handwriting was unmistakable.
I watched my fingers open it and pull out a single sheet of white paper. I unfolded it and found two words in emerald ink, scrawled across the center of the page.
Seduce Her
I blinked rapidly, my eyes darting between the two words and the alluring woman standing in front of me.
It was my wife's handwriting.
She was watching me quietly, seemingly amused by my befuddlement.
If seduction was my mandate, I was off to a uniquely bad start. Actually, seduced was the perfect word for how I felt. Only I was not supposed to be the one feeling it. I took a deep breath and exhaled as much of the befuddlement as I could gather in my diaphragm.
I could feel the self-satisfied grin of my wife, as if she could see my reaction. She found the most captivating and uniquely stylish young woman in our neighborhood, knew exactly how it would make me feel to send this beauty walking up to me out of the blue, and had her hand me a note openly inviting me to take her to bed. She was seducing me by telling me to seduce the nubile renaissance princess next door.
I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket, then turned my full attention to her. My mind came back empty when I attempted to summon something to say, but I felt an intense pressure to say... anything. I opened my mouth and let my subconscious take a shot at the conundrum.
"I like your shoes."
Her grin broadened and filled her eyes. She seemed to be suppressing a laugh.
"Thanks," she lifted one foot and turned it in slightly, looking down at the ostentatious heels, "I didn't really have anything to go with this dress, but I tried these on and just felt like they worked, somehow."
"You make them work," I said, my subconscious not missing a beat after she finished speaking.
She replaced her foot on the ground and righted her posture. Her head remained tilted down, but I could still see the shyness on her face.
"Thanks."
I took another calming breath, relieved to have overcome some of my starting deficit.
"I'm Hank," I extended my right hand toward her, causing my camera to swing forward and forcing my arm to contort oddly to keep it from sliding into her.
"Evelyn," she shook my hand. Her grip was as soft as her skin.
It seemed to take some effort for her to make eye contact as we shook hands, and I saw her gaze fall down to rest on my camera immediately after our eyes met.
"I was just leaving to go on a walk. I enjoy the challenge of finding an interesting composition in everyday surroundings."
"Oh," she said, her eyes daring up to mine with a flicker of interest, "that looks pretty serious." Her eyes return to the camera, her curiosity becoming more and more apparent.
"Yeah," I reached down and grasped the camera by the barrel of the lens and offered it to her, "it also doubles as weight training."
She looked up at me with confusion as she reached out to take it, but the confusion melted into surprise as she felt the weight.
"Wow," she looked at it with childlike wonder, "I never realized they were so heavy."
"Yeah, had a similar reaction," I grinned at her, "but a lot of it is the lens. Pretty much that whole cylinder is solid glass." I grazed my finger along the length of the shaft.
"Wow," she repeated, her gaze flitting between me and the camera, "I guess I've never actually held a real camera like this before. I just always used my phone."
I found her interest both endearing and extremely attractive. She had begun to run her fingers along some of the buttons, dials, and control rings, and I understood the tactile joy she was experiencing. Like a child that had snuck into the driver's seat of her parent's car, exploring all the knobs and buttons and levers with innocent wonder.
"Would you like me to show you how it works?" I offered, looking at her with affection, like the same parent might watch their daughter play with the steering wheel.
She looked up at me, surprised. I could see the intensity of her interest clashing with the self-consciousness that comes with an uncomfortable gap in knowledge.
"I would like that very much," she said, grinning, "if that's okay, I mean. It feels... expensive."
I chuckled, "Of course. Definitely better if we don't drop it. Let me set it up for you, and then I'll show you how to take a photo."
She gave me a nervous nod, reluctantly withdrawing her hands. I popped off the lens cap and stuffed it into my pocket. I flicked on the power switch with a satisfying click, and raised the viewfinder to my eye, pointing it at the tree, and adjusting the exposure.
"About 90% of operating a camera comes down to learning how the exposure triangle works," I explain as I make the final adjustments, "but that's a much longer conversation, so I'm dialing that in for you this time."
I lowered the camera and stepped around to her side, my arm grazing against hers.
"Hold it like this," I demonstrated, cradling the lens with my left hand and wrapping my right hand around the body. I held it in front of me for a moment to let her see my grip, and then offered her the camera.
She took it and replicated my grip carefully. I grinned and nodded in encouragement. I stepped behind her, reached around her body, taking care not to touch her, and lifted the strap over her head. She lifted her right arm and shrugged into the strap.
"Now you don't have to worry about dropping it," I said from behind her. I slowly smoothed the strap across her shoulder and back, untwisting it in a few places.
"Oh..." she relaxed her hands and felt the weight of the camera dig into her shoulder.
"Okay, there's about 50 buttons and dials on that thing, but you only need to worry about one of them," I reached around and guided the index finger of her right hand, "this is the shutter. It's a two stage button. If you push it lightly like this," I pushed her finger gently into the button, "it triggers the autofocus. And if you push it harder like this," I push her finger harder into the button, causing the shutter to click several times, "it'll take a photo."
"Okay," she pushed the shutter several times and giggled at the sound and vibration, "I think I got it."
"You got it," I smiled, removing my hand from hers and reaching around her with my other hand. "This is the viewfinder," I tapped my finger, "you look through there to see what you have in frame."
She lifted the camera to her face and looked through the viewfinder.
"Oh wow. It's like... an airplane or something," she said, amazed.
"Yeah, it takes a while to learn what all the numbers and readouts mean. But just look at the image for now. That's what you're taking a picture of if you press the shutter with your right hand. Go ahead and try it."
She snapped a few photos, making adorable noises to herself and she looked around through the viewfinder.
"I set the exposure to that tree to our left. So frame the tree however it looks right to you and take a picture."
She turned to the tree and walked closer to it tentatively. She took several slow steps toward it and then took a picture. She lowered the camera and turned back to me, a huge smile on her face.
"Can I see what I took?" She asked hopefully.
I reached around the camera to push the review button. The image she took of the tree appeared on the screen. She looked at it for a few moments and then turned the screen toward me. I studied the photo and nodded approvingly.
"You've got a good eye for composition. You used the trunk to frame the landscape in the background."
She looked at me, blushing. She seemed momentarily lost for words, so I went in for the knockout.
"I think I know what would make this composition even better, though."
She blinked a few times in surprise. "Oh? What's that?"
"You."
