Pure lustful thoughts, as I sit there and non-nonchalantly stare. So beautiful in her dress, expertly hugging her figure. The whole office knew for sure who she is wearing that for. Even if she doesn't know it. She can't help but smile when she speaks to me. Ask me one more time, say a little poetry, speak about your beauty. Gets her every time. Every line she blushes a little. Waiting for that moment to happen. She may deny it, she may even avoid it, but what she doesn't know is that something in her that she can't explain has her curious about what it is that makes her change her character when I'm close. I see it, they see it, but she ignores it. She believes she's old enough to ignore it, to doubt it, to move without it. This type of resistance of the inevitable is very alluring. It's that hidden communication that really gets her. Those questions of the unknown assets that I get to know by way of speaking about every thing that is about her. Always avoiding the obvious but digging deeper into the subconscious. Open her dreams, wonder those spaces she rarely gets a chance to speak about. Even if it's about her off-spring, the true meaning to what it is to be a mother and in some cases the father too. Evaluate every crevice of her being. Find what it is that keeps her living. Could be religion, could be books, could be owning a business or escaping the life of a trouble past. Hers was the very thing hidden in her mind. And every second, every moment I got with her, I took the time to shine my brilliance, highlighting the things in my mind that she could find in hers connecting her ever more.
Every day, every time I come her way, I smile and say her name. She's used to it. She returns it. Nothing to be expected, but she's been selected, a moment here, a moment there, now the only thing left is when and where. Poetry to get her curious, she's oblivious because I am the same when she see me with her and her and her. She has her own intentions though. She's ready to get to know, who is this man who manages to make her glow without a single touch. The whole time I'm getting to know her intimately. feeling her in a way that she never knew she could be felt. The build up is to strong for her so she makes an innocent move or that's what I think. I accept, making sure I remain the one in control, she suspects but she doesn't know. I know, and suspect that she wants to know and wonder if it is or isn't. She wants to hang in a personal setting where she can exert her powers and I want to hang so I can explore every inch of her psychology.
She set the place, I set the time, we met face to face at the place, standing in line, waiting to get in. She wore something that says, I'm perfectly made, and I wore something that stated I'm mysterious so get lost in my vicinity. We placed inside, talking speaking, opening up and being comfortable outside of the work place. It's funny, cause she has one thing on her mind, but I already said to myself this isn't the time. I need her to need a little more. She would steer the conversation to a little more a sensual tone and I know how my hormones work so I would keep my mind above it but dive a little just so she know, I'm in control and direct the motions. I'm the pleasure giver, the pleasure interpreter. She knew by the words I speak that I meant business and that she would have to be on my time and her curiosity has her hooked. But I'm the author and I'm writing this book. But I did oblige to go back to her dwelling place.