She wore a simple white dress with crimson heels, showing off a perfect pair of legs from ankle to thigh. I found myself fantasizing, oblivious to my attentions, as well to her fellow admirers, seemingly lost in the scene she put forth. Emboldened by her concentration, my eyes wandered over the perfect shape of her bum, her impossibly slender waist, and breasts that seemed to have been drawn by the inspired fingers of Leonardo Da Vinci.
It felt so intimate, staring at her, a few feet separating us; she as lost in Mekatilili’s picture as I was in her.
“Such a heroine!” she whispered.
She didn’t turn, but I had a feeling her words were meant for me. Had she known I was watching her, or did she just realize it before making the comment? Either way, I’d been caught ogling. Taking a deep secure breath, I did my best to sound nonchalant; just another guy whose attention had been drawn by the magnificence of a rare kind.
“So you love history?” I asked
She turned slowly, her smile wry and radiant, lowering her sunglasses, her eyes were as I had imagined them, shining like starlight.
“Yes I do!”
I was lost for words and she too didn’t utter another. Her eyes disappeared once again, hidden behind the dark lenses, her cherry red smile tempting itself into my retinas. Like a fool, I watched her go, unable to do otherwise, hypnotized by the gentle sway of her ebony black hair, undone by the sultry smile she cast over her face before abandoning me to my mundane surrounding
I spent the rest of the day in a completely distracted haze. My friends kept wondering what had hit me so hard. I myself didn’t know. Truly, there were Medusas on earth.
That night, I couldn’t help but feel bad. Why didn’t I do something? I kept on blaming myself.
A week later I found myself at one of the private uni, without the slightest idea that this was where the angel I adored so much spent most of her time. I was there mainly to catch up with the many friends I had made ever since I started writing.
After making a few rounds around the campus, I settled at a food joint with one of my pals called Mike. As soon as I sat on my chair, someone touched me. My expression must have mirrored the surprise when smoothly textured fingers felt my neck. I turned to see who it was and luckily my wishes were confirmed. It was her, standing right behind me with her friend.
Like a gentleman, I stood, allowing her to sit. Mike quickly rushed to get some extra chairs for the ladies. As soon as we began the group conversation my crush’s friend was quick to point out that she knew me and that she was a fan of my work.
“Si you are Philip Etemesi? The writer from KU?”
I acknowledged that and the face of my person of interest suddenly lit up. She was now eager to know more about me after realizing I was a popular writer. She teased me with her smile, asking me question after question. She did her best to prevent her friend from stealing all the glory. She kept talking, she even told me her name even before I asked for it. – Stacey.
After lunch, Mike was quick to excuse himself, claiming he had classes to attend. Stacey’s friend soon left too. I could tell how sad she was: perhaps sulking at her BFF’s possessive behavior.
“I live in Zimmerman, if you have no other business, we can go hang out and later on cook some supper”, she said.