Vanilla

Actually Vanessa was her name, but both words bring out the essence in her. I speak in past tense because this was one of those events that happen and likely won't ever happen again. You wouldn't want it to happen again because the anticipation itself may kill you.

Yes. The proverbial femme fatale. Not extraordinarily gorgeous, No. It's more the was she moves and the energy she displays. I can't remember the number of times I said "Oh my goodness!" last night. I was transfixed, like a dog waiting to go after a stick when playing 'fetch'. My jaw was wide open all the time my eyes were on her, and I didn't care. It was clearly evident that I wasn't the only one experiencing some pretty intense sensations, although I struggled, really struggled, not to walk right up to her and declare something. I wasn't sure what.

The vultures circled, the hunters went in for the kill, but there is something about someone who knows they are sexy. They are not moved by the attempts to impress by the masses that seek after them. The pain of knowing that you are one of those in the masses, in a futile attempt to stand out, to be picked out, is excrutiating. Knowing that the more forward your attempts at impressing are, the less likely they are to succeed. Like a flailing figure in a sea of great whites, you are almost certainly doomed to failure.

You need to muster up all the energy you can, use all the medidation and calming techniques you've tried out, to stay still. I stood transfixed, hand over mouth, eyes wide open, stunned. I followed her every move. Every sensual move. From this corner to the next, I followed, bringing out the potential stalker in me.

She seemed to have male company. Exclusive male company. The thought of being beaten down by some green eyed man helped me to stay put. But you all know where this is headed. Like a lorry that had lost its breaks I was headed in only one direction, albeit in a winding manner, trying to avoid the inevitable destination.

I stepped up, leaned in. "You are the most sexy person I've seen in a week", or some ridiculous thing like that came rushing from my mouth. That's as much as my now confused mind could conjure up. So I ended up repeating this phrase over and over. Yes. My mind was in an endless loop and I was powerless to stop it.

There's something about the pursuit, as opposed to the capture, that is uniquely intriguing, and once this intrigue is lost by achieving your goal, no matter how exciting the goal is, the fires that had been burning die down, and you suddenly come back to reality. I had achieved my objective and moved away to avoid being labelled 'retarded' for saying the same thing over and over and over again.

Behold! The ploy works. The effort pays off. Eyes meet and the gaze is held. That is more than the other suitors in this plot have got. Experience has taught me that that is good enough for a foundation on which to build bigger things, so I smile. Yes. That smile. Like a moth to a flame, I'm draw back. I am powerless, a zombie who heeds her every request.

This story ends like most others in my life. "What if?". The difference now is that I know the answer to that question and can move on a tad quicker than before. No phone calls, dates or any of that sort of thing will follow. Once upon a time I would be restless until these events occurred. Not any more.