A couple of days ago, I had a rare half day off from work, so I spent that rare time off by catching up on some writing. What I wrote mostly was a couple handwritten pages to my story Blackness In The White Sand, but came to stop when I realized that I needed to do some research in Dante's "Divina Commedia" in order to continue the story. So, with time to kill and a itchy brain to use, I started reflecting on the people that I've met on this fascinating journey called Life.
After a while, I came up with this nice little piece of flash. Let me know what you think of it.
With nothing but time on his hands, he briefly poked his head out from his cubicle and saw her. Not as a co-worker, for he was always seeing her as such, but as a warm, vibrant, sensual woman. Always tastefully dressed in the latest fashion, on dress down Fridays, she turned into something special.
The none-too-tight jeans accentuated her backside with just enough oomph that he always wanted to touch and caress it. The soft sweaters tastefully emphasized the natural goodness contained within. The minimal amount of bling and the natural makeup complimented perfectly the gentle softness of her face.
As a whole, her body and complexion matched up with the latest Page Six* lady from the Caribbean to a T. For the first time, she gave him a look that steeled his resolve and yet melted his heart and turned him into pottery clay.
"Good God, she's walking this way! Better look busy!" he thought excitedly, for a good chunk of the time, she never really visited his cube for any lengthy period of time. A few seconds later, he heard a knock on his wall. Even before he turned around, he knew by the scent of jasmine that she was standing there.
Walking in, she asked him a question, which in turn he asked for a little clarity. She moved in closer and knelt down, so as to better explain her question, and it was all he could do to keep himself focused on the task at hand. The fresh scent, the clean yet not quite so wholesome look, the soft curves and the overall sensuality of her being, drove him to distraction.
Somehow, he was able to answer her question to her satisfaction. Smiling, she used his shoulder as a prop and stood up. Stretching for a few seconds, she gave his shoulder a lingering touch, and left his cube. He wheeled his chair over to his entrance and watched her walk down the block until she got back into her cube.
Sighing, he disappeared back into his cube and then spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about what the future could have been, if different choices were made along the way.
*The Page Six Lady existed back in the day when I was in my twenties and my father used to bring back the local papers from Jamaica whenever he came home from an extended business trip. Basically, it was a lovely lady showing off the top half of her natural assests, and it was always on page 6, hence the moniker of The Page Six Lady.