One
There she sits, completely focussed on her work. It's not all bad though, as a lucky side effect, she allows me to gaze upon her beauty without the worry of our eyes meeting and the awkward moment to follow. Would there be an awkward moment? Maybe I could just smile at her and everything would be okay. Maybe she'd even smile back, sincerely, I mean; they always smile back. Oh, don't think me a pervert! I sit and stare; I long to do more, but find myself unable. Prufrockian, that's what they call people like me.
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," by TS Elliot, could very well have been written about me... The crab at the bottom of the sea, scuttling about, never moving forward, only side to side... Squirming away from his goals just to move forward with ease. Just as Prufrock, I am not called out for by the mermaids, even in my own mind. I cannot bring myself to speak to her; If I make a mistake, she'll think I'm stupid and I'll never have a chance with her again. No. I must wait for a better time. When the perfect moment arrives, may I know it and use it... may I know it and use it...
Now would be a terrible time to talk to her! She's so intent upon finishing her work. It would be obvious to anyone, not only those who know her facial expressions as well as I, that now would be the wrong time to interrupt her. Her brow is furrowed in deep concentration. This rarely ever happens to her; she's far too delicate and beautiful to frown. Over the three years I've known her, working in this same office, I've only seen her frown... let's see... less than a dozen times, certainly. She's always smiling. That's what first got my attention, I think. It says much of her smile's perfection for me to state that it is more attracting than her face and body! Oh, she's the picture of femininity! An hourglass shape, but not so skinny as to look brittle; she's a real woman. Delicate little fingers on even more delicate hands; they are the sun's rays. Her skin, once white as the purest platinum, now tanned beautifully to a shade that all may admire. Her chest, my friends, I feel shy describing it-- it's no wonder I can't speak to her! I cannot even describe her beauty honestly without blushing! Her chest is large, but not too large as to appear cumbersome. They are firm enough, or at least her bras strong enough, that they move little when she walks (but not so little as to indicate implants). I'd say they were somewhere between B and C cups, I couldn't say for sure. Those legs of hers... She normally covers them up with pinstripe pants around the office, so only their length can be discerned, quite long. Oh, and such tiny feet! Probably size six or so! She's easily 5'6'', how could she have such small feet? Well, it doesn't matter, really. Moving up now, her neck... If one were to take a wine glass in their hand, they might have an idea of what it is (so I would assume) to hold her neck. It's so delicate and fragile looking, but smooth and pristine. I'd love to kiss it– no, I'd love for her to want me to kiss it..
Her face, excluding the smile, is as pretty as a picture (a picture of a garden, perhaps). With the smile, it's as pretty as a museum (one of fine art). She resembles a bird, but not in the way that most women do (being delicate and decorative). She actually looks like a bird, as much as a human can, I should think (I mean this only as a compliment). Her face is heart-shaped, with a hairline that points down in the middle, making her seem even more like a bird. Under that rests her nose, nearly sharp as a dagger. It resembles no witches nose in its edge! It is probably the most perfect nose any human has ever seen or imagined. Small, but fitting her face at just the right angle for total fairness. And! Lastly, it is so flawless that it, well... resembles a bird's beak, don't ask me how, it simply does. Resting atop her head, long curly hair. I honestly cannot name the colour, it sometimes appears red, others, brown and in the bright light, blond! Her cheekbones are high, making her features almost regal. Discreet ears, covered by her hair (unless she ties it up of course), with piercing that allow for the tinniest of diamond earrings. Ah, last but not least, her eyes! Oh heavens! They are innocence and warmth incarnate! Dark brown spheres that almost seem black at times, making here eyes look like those of a cartoon character giving a puppy dog-look. Rather than describe her, I think simply diverting you to the word "gorgeous" in the dictionary would have sufficed.
The office we work in, a small shipping company's main building, has been our home away from home for three years. We, that is me, Dorian, and my coworkers (all of them being friends, excluding the Divine creature which I just described. I have simply been too shy all this time to talk to her. Oh, right, I didn't tell you her name, it's Sarah, Sarah Cohen). There are 6 of us in all, excluding the janitor, loaders and drivers. There's Christine at the front desk, she's good with people, so she mans that station well. Then there's Christopher and John in telemarketing. Yup, only two of them; the company is that small. The boss, Jack (we're all on a first name basis here), who actually doesn't make our lives miserable and then there's me and Sarah... I process the orders and track them, while she takes care of all the accounting. She actually gets a commission, instead of an hourly rate, which has made things very hard for me, for, you see, when we all pack up an leave at the end of the day, she's usually already left an hour or so earlier. We often all go out together, for supper, but she has only come a few times. Maybe I like her for her mystery?
Well, I wish not to bore you, talking all about people you will probably never meet! I am merely setting the stage, as it were, to give away understanding and the low cost of time (smalltime, like the office).
I look over to her, just finishing up with the report on the last successful order. She looked up too! It was bliss for a moment; I could see her dead-on. I was in a dreamland for what felt like an hour, then came to, realizing that she could see me staring at her. She kept the frown on, but now it looked like a frown of deciphering. I smiled at her, hoping that it might fix things. A look of surprise showed on her face, but only for the tiniest of moments, the next, it was gone, replaced by that big smile and beautiful expression of hers that I've come to love, nay, always loved.
What did that mean then? A look of surprise? Was I imagining things? And that frown, she rarely ever frowns, but kept it while looking at me! I know I'm not that good looking, but it's not nice to frown at someone like that. Well, maybe I'm harsh on myself. I guess I'm not that bad looking. My lady friends compliment me from time to time, but I never know if they're just being nice. Hmm, I do see the odd glimpse of me taken by women in bars, pool halls and the like. Actually, maybe I'm not so bad looking after all and I'm just intimidated by the Divine one... She wouldn't look at me twice... I've never seen her do so before, during all three years we've sat across from each other. But what if she did... ha, here's an idea! The next day that I see her look at me twice, I'll ask her out!
I continued on with my work, said a few odd words to passers-by, then lunchtime came. We had the tradition of staying in the office together and talking about anything and everything (excluding our jobs) while eating. Sarah, however, didn't often stay with us. No one ever asked her where she went for lunch, or why she didn't stay with us. I had noticed her bring in a little brow paper bag today, so I assumed she would stay with us today. I was right. I'd force myself to talk to her! I would! Oh, but all my friends are there... what if I say something stupid in front of them? They'll laugh at me, innocently perhaps, but then how will I be able to continue talking? I would be humiliated! I will have to be careful with my words, that's all.
We all settled down to our lunches, pulling our chairs together in the middle of the large beige room that was our place of employment. We started to eat, and John and Christopher (the telemarketers and most articulate of the group) started off the conversation by a rather embarrassing subject (how could they be so shameless?). The subject was how people lost their virginity (yes, we were that close in the office... except perhaps Sarah).
John and Christopher had apparently lost their virginity to twins, at the same time (they had been friends since grade school), something they have described in detail on more than one occasion. I have a fairly hard time believing it, but considering their verbal agility, I wouldn't put it past them.
Jack's story took place in the sixties, (he was a hippie, apparently) where he lost his virginity, had his first drug experience AND got drunk for the first time. He called it, "a night of firsts, alcohol, drugs, sex and a blank space in my memory."
Christine's turn. She was shy at first, and blushing, but she soon got over it and told her story.
"We were both eighteen... We met at my first job, at McDonald's. He, his name was Marty, would restock the ketchup in those dispenser things, you see. But, one day he went into the stockroom and all we could hear, the cashiers, fry people, well all of us, customers included, was a giant crash in the back! I ran into the stockroom, I had always liked him you see, to find him covered in ketchup, with a whole shelf on top of him! I pulled it off of him with all my might, succeeded, and slipped on the ketchup splattered all over the place! I landed on him, both of us covered in ketchup now, and immediately excused myself 'sorry! Sorry!' I said, feeling quite bad that I had fallen on top of a man that had just been squashed by a ton of ketchup and all manner of other things," Christine paused for a moment to smile, "he just looked at me for a second, face covered in ketchup, and kissed me! I was dumbstruck! But that didn't stop me from continuing! It was very interesting to kiss a man with a mouth covered in ketchup, haha, it is my favourite condiment. I don't know how long we were there, but we were stopped by an 'aHEM' from the manager. I don't know how long he had been watching us, but we were both terribly embarrassed."
"Well get to the part where you did it!" interrupted John. "Yeah!" agreed Christopher.
"Oh you men! You're all the same!" Christina said, jokingly, "well, it was discovered that
the shelf was broken, so Marty didn't get into any trouble. We both got the day off, being covered in ketchup as we were. I lived a half hour away from work and told Marty that I would be so embarrassed to take the bus home. He told me that he lived down the street and offered for me to go over to his place to clean myself off. I was younger then, haha, I didn't think he meant anything other than that, even after our kiss."
Christopher and John laughed a little at this.
"Don't laugh!" Christine demanded, we could see that she was quite into her story and taking the laughs the wrong way, "where was I? Oh yes, we went over to his house, and..." she smiled naughtily, "took a shower together. He was well toned, and tanned. Ah, that was a handsome man. Under all that ketchup lay thick, long, black hair. Hair that I took pleasure in washing. We kissed in the shower and got more familiar with each other's bodies until there was no hot water left. Ahh, the pleasures of youth! Well, after drying each other off, we made our way to his bedroom, where he made his way with me."
"That's it? No details?" Christopher asked.
"A lady doesn't tell what goes on in the bedroom!" Christine responded.
