At church yesterday, I saw this guy with long blonde curls. They were everywhere. I looked at him and I didn't want to look away. But then he looked at me and I thought, "Oh shit, look away!"
I kept looking over at him occasionally. I saw him smiling and I wanted to die, he was really something. This little girl went up to him and shook his hand, then walked over to me and shook my hand, then went back to him and shook his hand again. I looked at his hands and they were stunning. Perfect, veiny, masculine, yet delicate.
Then he looked at me again while I was looking at him, but this time I didn't look away. I smiled at him, as flirtatiously as I could. I knew I was never going to see him again. I just wanted to give him a look that he would remember. Enough that he might go home that night and blog about it.
I smiled at him and he smiled back.
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