Erica is my best friend. Stunning is the only word to describe her looks. She is about 5'5," light brown hair, and green eyes, their almond shape taking her otherwise All-American look into exotic territory. She thinks perhaps there had been a gypsy great-grandmother, but she isn't sure. Her body? I fight so hard to stop staring at her cleavage if she is wearing a V-neck top. She is voluptuous, yet toned. I am taller and my frame a bit larger than hers, my auburn hair and brown eyes are commendable, but not as show-stopping as Erica's features. I should seethe with jealousy, but she is so sweet that I cannot help but fall under her spell. Perhaps I like her a bit too much and she is aware of this. I know she is straight and not interested in me, but we are friends, so she accepts my crush for what it is. Unrequited love. Erica is recently divorced, and I am bisexual, but finding myself more drawn towards women. In our late twenties, we are feeling pressure to find husbands. I enjoy time with my friend without hoping for anything more, but I can't always hide my attraction to her.
Tonight, she plans to cook dinner for me, if I will bring the dessert. I lovingly bake a decadent chocolate raspberry flourless cake. I can't wait to watch my beautiful friend savor each bite in the candlelight. I can't resist buying pink roses as well, as if I were a boyfriend. Perhaps they will cheer in the wake of her divorce, which still must sting. I feel odd electricity around me as I knock on her double doors.
She does not usually dress up so much for our dinners, but tonight, she is stunning. She is a Grecian goddess in shades of gold; her sequined halter top reveals a hint of her beautiful breasts. I find myself speechless. "My eyes are up here, Delia." she laughs. "Aren't you going to come inside? Thank you for the roses!"