She's smiling at me again; she's always smiling at me. It's not one of those, polite, just being nice, artificial smiles, but one of those giant, beaming, sparkling smiles. I just thought to myself, she must be a really nice person.
It took me a while to pick up on it; I didn't catch on to it right away. I thought she was just trying to be nice, polite and friendly to the new girl in the office. She's very pretty, some striking features about her, a fierce chiseled face, razor sharp looks, very clean looking, and very young. I can appreciate that, but not necessarily my flavor of girl.
She's one of those girls; some dipshit college guy would call hot. And that's just not my flavor. I prefer a little bit of uniqueness and depth, something beyond the surface, something beyond hot. She was too...middle of the road typical, cheerleader type, sorority girl, nothing unique, just hot. Pretty, but nothing I found unique or significant.
I really never took her for being a queen, or even had considered it, until I started noticing that bright, beaming smile popping up in front of me all the time. And noticing she would coincidentally find herself at the copy machine or the sample room at the same time as me, even in the ladies room. Finding myself questioning, what was her intention, what's going on with this girl?
Finally, I picked up on what she was doing. She was throwing signals out at me. Curious...about me. Someone, clearly 10 years older than she was, showing me she was willing to throw signals out, come after me, time and time again. I guess you could say I'm kind of naïve when it comes to picking up on signals from girls. You really have to spell it out for me, and she did. Who knows how long she'd been at it before I started picking up on it.
She's a marathon runner, but she still has a sexy body. She's not one of those hard bodied, no period having, extremist ultra-marathoners. She's just really tight bodied and firm. Still a very feminine body, just tight, young, and firm. I would put her at 25, no more beyond that. Really fucking beautiful. Sandy, fawn colored hair, to her waist. 5'6", sharp sparkling eyes, big smile, sun kissed skin, sugary.
I'm just shocked she picked me out the crowd though, I am not a cheerleader, I am not a sorority girl. Bi...myself, single, mid 30's, 5'9," lean and mean, somewhat of a tough guy, a punk kid with a smart mouth. Still very much a woman, very fem, very attractive, but you have to look closely when it comes to me.
And she just became superhot to me. This little sweetheart, is a little bi-curious closet, freak flag. Perfect. Willing to cast signals at me at work. Trying to talk to me at work, smiling at me at work. Prospecting! Holy fuck...she just became superhot to me.
I never considered myself full blown queen, but definitely have an eye for the female form and certainly catch myself admiring and appreciating curves and female beauty. And with that being said, I used to get girl on girl action in my early 20's and I loved it. The softness of a woman's body, her breast, the gentleness of her, a woman's body next a woman's body...is nothing short of heaven. But really, nothing since being in my 30's. However, finding myself admiring beauty from afar, never acting on anything though.
Nonetheless, I get it. She had to hit me upside the head with it, but I get it. And I started making more conversation with her at work, being a little friendlier, smiling at her more. I liked where this was going. She's so fucking sweet; I can't get over how sugary sweet she is, Jesus Christ. And this little freak flag, likes me. I'm just caught off guard by it. But I'm definitely going to ride it through to see where it goes, because curiosity is bugging the hell out of me at this point.
Weeks go by with the same interaction. The same big smiles passing each other at work, no real big moves though. How could I be sure anyway, right? Maybe I was reading into something a little too much. And after all, we are at work, not really much you can do in the way of sniffing it out.
Friday arrives and I catch wind that a group of girls from work are going to have drinks and they do invite the new girl. Perfect. The perfect opportunity to hash out the work week with some of these faces I've been sitting alongside with over the last several months. I'm really looking forward to it, being the newest addition to our sales team.
The end of the day is nearing and people start to pack up and head home for the weekend. Our group of about 6 girls congregates at the elevators, making small talk, waiting for any last stragglers, and who comes around the partition? It's her. That little juicy sweet fucking queen.
I smirk and scoff to myself. This is perfect. My eyes dart and stare over at her as she and another girl approach us. I make sure she sees me, staring at her. She caught it. Okay, let's see what she's made out of.
We hit the elevators and exit the building. We make our way to a couple places near our office. And end up at a martini bar. Not exactly my style, and I've already decided, this will be my last stop, before I catch my cab home.
I've had a great time, getting to know my new coworkers, getting a little sauced on Friday night, hashing it outside of the office. All mid 20's to mid-30's aged girls.
And how about my little hot sweet fuck? No moves from her all night. I'm a little surprised, I expected something from her, afterall, she started this. But I'm definitely leaving the ball in her court. She knows where to find me, and if she wants to finish it...she's going to have to come to me.
And my one drink finished, that's it for me. Calling it a night. I'm really surprised she never made her move. I haven't really spoken with her all night. I pretty much stuck to the 30-something girls and she stuck with the 20-something girls. Our eyes making occasional contact, but nothing solid developed. It's getting a little late, for work drinks, I'm not willing to stall any longer, I'm ready to go. I pay our waitress and start with my goodbyes to these girls.
Saying, "We need to do this again."
Someone shouting, "Lunch!"
Another, "Have a good weekend!"
Another, "Bye, Kat!" "Seeee yoooo!"
And other goodbye sentiments. Realizing as I'm leaving, some girls obviously getting a little more sauced than others. But I'm off and I'm out, one last stop in the ladies room before I catch my cab home. And as I walk into the bathroom, away from the noisy bar, I'm realizing I'm glad I stopped drinking when I did. I'm feeling pretty good.
I paused in the mirror, to take a look at myself. I still look sober. I'm good. And satisfied with my own approval and decision to cut it when I did, I proceed to one of the stalls. I hear the bathroom door open, someone else enters the bathroom. I exit my stall, and walk up to the vanity, around the corner, there she is, it's her. She's standing there, staring at me, smiling again.
I smile back and say, "Hi, you."
"Hi," She replies.
I lean over the sink and begin washing my hands. I make small talk with her, as I'm washing.
"Hey how's your night going?"
She's leaning close into the mirror, touching up her lip gloss, slightly bent over the vanity counter, wearing a mid-thigh lengthed A-line skirt. As she bends toward the mirror, the hem of her skirt lifts up the back of her leg. It's a little short for the office, in my opinion, I'm sure some of those young dipshit guys we work with would disagree with me, but she manages to pull it off tastefully. She's pretty smokin' hot, looking like a school girl in a white oxford collared shirt, tucked into her skirt.
