The EXOTIC
WOMAN Book 2
I
had gone to the theater with a friend, some trendy new play. The type of play that seldom came to my
home-town. The kind of play that
was original, verbal, situational and smart as opposed to glitzy, dopey
musicals featuring a frustrated insane, physically repugnant monster with a
nice baritone and an obsessive love for the hot chick. You know, the ‘re-run’ that everyone
pretends to “love”, but only because they really dig the music and ignore the
dialog and plot. Thank heaven this
play hadn’t been like that.
I
was still sitting in my seat thinking about the quirky ending to the play when
my friend got up to go. “Going to
the whizzer, see you outside, OK?”
I shook my head to clear the echoes of the last scene and nodded, “Yeah,
I’ll see you in a minute.” As my
buddy left, I stood and stretched the stiffness out of my legs and back. Turning to go, I saw my friends, Marla
and her husband Dean talking to Phil, another of our group at the back of the
theater. Waving, I climbed the
aisle and walked up to them, said hello and hugged Marla, shook hands with the
guys, “How ya doing?” They
replied, “ Fine, Fine, Fine.” Small
talk broke out, each of us catching up on recent events, grandkids, dogs,
gardens and the like when out of nowhere I heard my name spoken. “Mike”. In the noise of the conversation I couldn’t tell where the sound
had come from or if it was real.
“I must be hearing things”, I told myself. And then it came again a little louder and more insistent,
“Mike”. I looked around, trying to
pinpoint the origin of the calling.
It had become important to find out who was calling to me, who owned
that voice; that silky, alluring voice.
I scanned my memory for that particular sound, that exact tone of ‘come
hitherness’. Then, again the voice
reached out to me, inviting, full of want and desire, “Mike”.
At
that moment the exiting crowd thinned and revealed a woman sitting in the aisle
seat of the back row and she was
looking directly at me. I was
startled, even though I had been looking for whoever had been calling my
name.
The
woman was beautiful, much too beautiful to be looking at me that way. So naturally I turned around to see if
someone else was standing behind me, someone else that she had to be looking
at. I was sure that I was
misunderstanding her gaze. No one
was there, except my friends who were looking at me, puzzled at my
actions. I looked back at the
woman who smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lips really, and she lifted one
eyebrow in an invitation…question?
She
was gorgeous, sitting there a bit sideways, legs crossed at the ankles. “What ankles”, I thought and continued
to look her over. “Lips”…had I
said it out loud? Lips, full and
generous, red. Red with that favorite shade of lipstick that I like; the only
lipstick that I like on a woman’s lips. Her hair was black, black as a raven’s
wing, soaking up the light like a black hole, glistening only where the light
was strong enough to escape the pull of the darkness. It was thick, and cut in
a short flip that looked natural and inviting. Her almond eyes were dark too, and from where I stood I
couldn’t tell how dark, but they seemed to be saying, “Get over here you fool,
I have got something to tell you.”
Just one more glance I thought and…”Oh my!” I sucked in my breath, “OH
MY!” My glance slid from head to
toe and back again, “OHH MY! and in a yellow dress too. “
...to be continued...
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