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A story of passion
J roused from his sleep in an unfamiliar room. He looked around him for clues of his whereabouts; he finds nothing definitive and nothing extraordinary. All he knew was that it belonged to a girl, a lady perhaps from the distinctive décor of the room, the pressed silk sheets venetian in origin contrasting well against the satin red drapes from which emanated a single ray of light into the dimness. The dressing table looked organized, bottles of nail polish arranged according to their hue and perfumes by height. Even the clothes rack was pristine; J’s clothes were neatly folded and tucked away at the bottom of the rack next to a sheer white halter-neck dress pressed away beneath a set of laced lingerie. J snooped around the bedside table looking for picture frames, purses, mail anything that would verify the room’s occupant. Nothing, everything was tucked away tactfully; giving up J slumped back onto the bed catching whiff of a floral scent on the next pillow. J loved a lady that smelled good. From the state of the room J deduced that she must be someone conscious of appearances with meticulous attention to detail. He kicked back as he tried to recall the night.B was in the shower, soaking under the lukewarm jets as she recalled the night. She didn’t think she would fall in love again, J proved her wrong. She recalled seeing J a couple of times previously in the bar, she admired his immaculate dress sense and his clean-shaven looks, how his biceps threatened to rip through his shirts and she wondered how they looked exposed. She had swooned on a few close encounters with J, once when he came up beside her on the bar to speak to the bartender, he had winked at her and B remembered how the butterflies fluttered in her stomach.B was feeling down from a recent break-up and had decided to head to the bar for some drinks alone. She never thought she would bounce right back into love again, she hadn’t prepared herself for prospective suitors but along came J. She had noticed J when she stepped into the bar, and had wondered why he too was alone. They exchanged glances at each other briefly before J stepped up to buy her a drink. B tried to start a casual conversation about the weather but realized how awkward she sounded. J handed her a paper towel, she didn’t know she was still tearing. She wiped away her tears apologizing for herself as she reached for her Martini.As J lay under the crisp silk sheets, the events of the night before came flooding back into his memory. He remembered seeing B before at the bar, but never mustered the courage to approach her. Her friends always surrounded her but J could have sworn there was always a halo of light illuminating her very presence. J admired the way she carried herself, always decked out in elegant dresses with a plunging neckline accentuating her ample bosom. J had wondered how her hair falls back so nicely into place every time she throws her head back as she laughed.J remembered how differently she had looked the night before; the halo above her head provided enough illumination for J to figure out that she had been crying. Gone were her graceful dresses and flowing tresses, instead she was dressed simply in a t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans with her hair in a perfect ponytail. J wondered what made her cry. J had just lost his job and was alone drinking in the pub with no friends to accompany him. He had tried calling a few mates but they all had work in the morning, J did not tell them he had been fired instead he decided to drown his sorrows on his own. He had been sitting by himself on one end of the bar wondering what life would bring him next when B strolled in. He remembered how his spirits had lifted at the sight of her.J had told her that everything would be fine and B remembered how everything suddenly seemed so trivial. B was amazed at how comforting his presence was, and for a moment kept herself from falling into his arms in an uncontrollable heap of sorrow. B wanted to spill her misery out to this stranger but contemplated how inappropriate that would have been.They started making casual conversation over the news, entertainment gossips and even about their colleagues. J was glad to see the smile return to her face. They talked about themselves and how they hated their jobs, they teased each other and cracked jokes over their drinks. They started confessing how they had noticed one another but never found the strength to strike a conversation, afraid of sending each other the wrong signals.They stumbled out of the bar each with a bottle of wine in hand toasting to the most inanimate objects as they laughed at each other’s antics. B suggested going back to her place for more drinks, a suggestion to which J adamantly declined. After much coaxing and teasing by B, J relented and they hopped into a cab heading straight to her apartment.They were laughing and tripping over themselves as they headed towards her door stumbling over each other in a drunken heap of laughter. The yearning they had for each other was culpable, a culmination of admiration and an intense desire to hold each other tight as they drifted off to sleep.They finally made it through the door collapsing lazily on her satin sofa as they joked about the night. B stumbled clumsily into her kitchen, returning with 2 bottles of her best wine. J popped the cork off both bottles and proposed a toast to their newfound companionship. B laughed it off and casually remarked how much she had wanted him to approach her before. In the ensuing silence J snuck a peck on B’s cheeks, shocked by his action but burning for more, B grabbed him by the neck and gave him a long passionate kiss.
posted by Ken The Man at
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