The fact that I’m having poetic impulses makes me smile slightly.
“Would you like to buy something?” She asks, in that breathy voice. Her cheeks are very red, I notice. Why is she blushing?
I hadn’t even thought up a reason for being there. “Of course,” I reply, “I’d like ah...” I look around, taking in the shop, I can see a lot of pretty things in ceramic and glass “a gift for my mother.” I turn back to her, and watch her eyes widen slightly.
“Okay.” She says, still looking at me. She moves towards me, almost touching me as she walks past me deeper into the shop. She smells clean and fresh, shampoo and soap. As her ponytail bounces past me, I have to try extremely hard to keep my fingers from touching the soft waves.
“What do you have in mind?” I hear her ask as I follow her through the shop, “We have um... a selection of items you can consider.” I’m only half listening. I’m watching her slender waist and the smooth curve into her hips. She turns back, and I have to look back up at her face. She looks so innocent, I almost feel guilty for checking her out.
She steps back, away from me. She looks tense all of a sudden. “We have um... These glass sculptures are all made locally,” she says. She continues to talk, her words gaining speed with each second. I cannot tear my eyes away from the natural pinkness of her lips as she speaks. I really want to kiss those lips.
“What’s your name?” I interrupt her speech.
She looks bewildered. “Sophie.” She tells me after a short pause. “Sophie Bennett.”
“Sophie.” I repeat. The name suits her, I study her for a moment. She looks quite young. I find myself desperately hoping that she’s not in high school or something else that’ll make me feel like a pervert for checking her out. “And how long have you worked here, Sophie?” I ask.
“I... um...” She blinks a few times, and my eyes follow the movement of her long lashes, “a few months.” She says.
“Interesting,” I’m curious. “College?”
She shakes her head.
She looks like she should be in college. “How old are you?”
She pauses, frowning as she licks her lips in a quick movement, and the sudden hardness in my pants tells me how much I want her. “Eighteen.” I hear her whisper.
Eighteen! I’m lusting after a baby.
I take a small step back. “You’re very young.” I say unnecessarily. I’m disappointed. Her eyes drop from my face, and then she looks back up again. We look at each other for a long while, my mind full of images of all the things I want to do to her. I am a pervert.
My eyes catch on a small glass sculpture beside her. “I’d like the glass swan.” I say.
She looks like I just spoke in Greek. “The what?”
I smile at the expression on her face and incline my head towards the sculpture. She looks embarrassed as she picks it up, taking it to the desk at the front of the shop.
“Do you want it wrapped?” She asks, looking up at me.
“Yes, and delivered.” I give her my address in Seattle, and she jots it down in neat handwriting on a notepad.
I hand her my card. As she takes it, her fingers brush against mine, cool and soft. I’m filled with an urge to take her hand and kiss it, or something equally stupid. The contact is only for a few moments, but those moments seem to last for a long time. I look at her face, and she’s staring up at me like a deer caught in headlamps. She feels it too, I think, whatever this is.
Abruptly, she pul
ls her hand away and swipes my card, not looking at me.
“I want to see you.” The words escape my lips without any input from my brain. She stops what she is doing, and those green eyes find mine again. “What are you doing tonight?” I continue.
“Nothing.” She whispers softly.
“Then have dinner with me.”
She looks as if she’s thinking about it, confusion, and a whole lot of other emotions running through her features. “Please.” I say. I give her a smile for good measure. Somehow, I want this very badly.
“Yes.” She says.
I feel like I’ve won a major triumph. I realize that I’ve been leaning over her, eagerly waiting for her reply. I straighten. “When do you finish here?” I ask.