My eyes dart across the room as she walks through the heavy door of this cold waiting room. Her brown layered hair bouncing with each step, and as I progress my eyes down her perfectly curved body she continues to impress me with each new feature I come across. Her beauty is stunning, her confident walk emits a sense of power, and the women in her path are immediately overcome with slight discomfort as she makes her way to the reception desk. For once in my life, I knew I had to act on this- I knew I had to talk to her.
"Hi, appointment for Sarah," I hear her say. Her voice is soft yet seductive. Her name is easy to the ear- simple, yet pretty. Who knew today would have such potential.
Sarah makes her way towards me and sits down at a tan chair directly in front of me, her perfume riding on a wave of air as she does so. Her scent is intoxicating and immediately brings my head to attention. As I glance up from my phone she crosses her legs so her black skirt is resting at the proper coverage level- if I had it my way, this would be very different.
"NOW SERVING C-801 AT WINDOW NUMBER 23," comes over the speakers in the typical monotone automated voice we've all come to expect from the DMV. This may be the first time in DMV history that someone was upset at their ticket being called, but dammit I was upset.
I stand up and begin walking towards window 23 until something stops me. Something in my head tells me to go back and talk to Sarah- it wasn't a suggestion from my instinct, it was a screaming demand at the top of my internal mind's lungs. I turn around, walk back to do so, and see Sarah looking up from her phone- directly into my eyes.
"Forget something?" she asks with the voice I've been dying to hear more of. A cheeky smile comes over her face as if she's said a clever joke, but I didn't mind. Her smile is as gorgeous as I thought it would be, maybe even more. I can see her eyes now as well, and I don't think I've ever seen brown eyes look any better.
"Yes, actually. My name is John. I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to accompany me on what most would call 'a date' tonight. You, me, and dinner at my place. No need to bring anything, just yourself and that stunning smile you just showed me," I reply, not missing a beat. Her cheeks turn red as her smile fades.
"Well, that's a very direct way of asking. I commend that. Unfortunately I can't, I have plans tonight," she explains.
"..alright. Fair enough. Have a good day," I state as I turn back around and make my way to Window 23. Could I have sat and pried? Sure. Would it have paid off? Perhaps. Sadly, I don't have time for that, even when considering how insanely hot Sarah is. The woman standing at the window has a face that shows her growing impatience with me, she can tell now I was taking my time to get up there.
The paperwork was done smooth and quick and my registration is now paid with my new license plate tags in hand. On my way to the door I look over to make one final glance at Sarah but she isn't in the same seat. As I turn my head back towards the door to leave, I see her standing next to the exit- she's staring at me. As I approach, a bit of anxiety overcomes me: a combination of excitement and nervousness. It's the first time I've felt either of these in a long time.
"Can I ask you something?" she blurts in a kind yet impatient manner.
"Sure, anything you'd like." I reply, in a calm voice.
"Well, two actually: Why didn't you try to reschedule with me when you clearly had enough interest to come speak to me and boldly ask for a date the way you did, and why didn't you ask if I had a boyfriend before asking? It's sort of rude to ask a woman on a date without knowing if she's with someone," she explains.
"Good questions, but both answers are very easy: I knew that if you had anything near the interest I had in you, YOU would come and talk to ME, and you having a boyfriend is not in the slightest a blip on my radar. Trust me when I say that if you do have a boyfriend, he isn't anywhere near as attracted to you as I am at this very moment."
Sarah's face turns straight as an arrow and her cheeks are now the color of the brightest cherries you've ever seen, making it very clear that she's at a loss for words. I'm not sure if it's the answers I gave or the tone in which I gave them. That, of course, is a tone that most men don't have the ability to speak in to a woman: confident, not cocky. At this point in our little dance she's either going to tell me off or she's going to make her chess move back at me. After another three whole-seconds, I got my answer.
"Nine-one-six, two-two-nine, five-four-eight-seven," she mutters. "Text me your address, I'll see you tonight," she says as she turns and walks away. Her walk-off is commendable but it made her miss the best part of this entire exchange: the devilish grin that sat on my face as I pictured her little skirt on the floor of my apartment.
—-LATER THAT DAY—-
Never in my life have I put on a suit and tie for a dinner in my own home, but if Sarah shows up in an outfit that's anywhere near what I'm picturing in my head, I'll need it. The prime rib cuts are sitting on a wooden cutting board on my granite counter top and resting to room temperature. The salad is in a clear bowl on my dark wooden dinner table and two sets of silverware and cups are on opposing ends. The bottle of wine has been chilling for an hour or two and is almost ready to be taken out. Dinner for two is almost ready, and there's a knock at the front door. I open the door and feel the warm summer night push through as it swings towards me. What I see standing in front of me is nothing short of an ice cold bottle of water if I was someone who had been stranded in a desert for 5 days.
The first thing I noticed was the scent of the same perfume from earlier, applied again but just a bit more diligently for the occasion. After my mind moved past that and began processing what was looking back at me, I noticed much more. Sarah's brown hair was curled now and sat graciously on her shoulders, draping like gentle waterfalls over the straps of her red dress. The dress itself was nothing special, but the way it curved and contoured her body was in a fair competition against a wild fantasy I'm sure every man has had. Her neck showed off her silky smooth skin, begging for my lips to graze over and tease. Her chest was covered well by the dress, you can tell she went the classy route for tonight by the lack of cleavage. As much as I am a man who enjoys the showing of skin, a classy woman is something that has always intrigued me; although I think it's mostly because forcing the reveal of their un-classy side is so goddamn fun.