I have this fantasy...
I dream about the first time I ever meet you. Sometimes you come to my world. Other times I slip into yours for a few days.
Got started on this fantasy thinking about how I was teasing you that day mentioning how often I get comments about my "exuberant" walk. So I can blame this one, on those that came before.
I started thinking about coming to see you, in your world...on a bus, since I don't drive.
You'd come to pick me up with a friend, figuring an extra person along might make things not quite so fraught with tension, casual chat getting us beyond that my gods, it's you moments.
And you know that the area where the bus lets off passengers is a good distance away from the woman's restroom. And you've been thinking about that feline strut I keep teasing you with.
You decide that you really want to see the way that I walk. So you tell me, when you arrive, grab your bag, and walk to the bathroom.
We'll be waiting for you at the far end of the parking lot.
Walk to the bathroom, comb your hair, check your makeup, whatever. Then come out and head that way.
I'm so nervous when the bus pulls into where I know you're waiting for me. I am hoping you'll like what you're finally getting to see. I can barely exit the bus without tripping over my own feet, clad in the high heels I don't often get the chance to wear. I try to ignore the looks...and jerk forward to escape an "innocently" accidental touch. Nearly falling out the bus doors, I wait meekly for the bus driver to pull out my bag.
I'm not at all feeling like the kinda girl who never gets lost in the crowd.
I'm just trying to remember how the hell walking works again?
The driver hands me my bag, quite likely wondering why he is given a drop dead you bastard look in return.
I take a deep breath and turn towards the bus depot. I can see the sign for the women's bathroom. And it seems to be miles away.
I remind myself that I'm rarely phased by anything. And that brats never whimper. And so with no attempt to look over my shoulder to try and spot you, after all, you have told me not to, I start walking towards those world's distant doors.
I'm not aware of it, because I'm too concerned with not melting bonelessly to the hot pavement, but the unfamiliar high heels and my fear of not pleasing you actually enhance the style of my signature walk.
You're there at the edge of the parking lot. You and your friend, to either side of the truck, doors open waiting to swoop me up, and take me away.
"That's her." You say when I step off rhe bus.
"She's pretty." Your friend comments politely.
And then I start my walk towards the bathroom doors. I am walking fast. I need to get to you, and sit down, before I collapse.
And I walk with that totally unaware, hip swinging feline arrogant slink.
"Oh man..." Your friend mutters.