I love to watch people, I love noticing people when they don't know I'm watching them. I notice little characteristics. I was traveling this last week, and was in several different airports in the course of flying to and from my destination. I think people strike up conversations at airports because they have the anonymity of you'll never see this person again. There is no danger, you don't know them, they don't know you, and you'll never see or hear from each other unless you choose to exchange information. I was standing in line at the coffee bar in the Minneapolis airport when my attention perked up when the guy in front of me ordered. I'm such a sucker for accents, and his very proper British accent had my nerve endings on high alert. I looked more closely, from behind. He had nice hands, he was well dressed, his dress pants only slightly wrinkled from his flight, and his suit coat thrown over his arm and his tie loosened. And he smiled at the sales girl as she handed him his change and I was compelled. I couldn't help myself.
I worked up my best southern drawl, I figured if I was going to comment on his accent, I could present one of my own. I placed my order quickly, and moved to where he was waiting for his drink. "Excuse me, I just had to comment, I do love your accent" I bubbled.
"You've got an interesting one yourself, your definitely not from around here are you?" he replied.
"Why, no, I'm from a little south of the Mason-Dixon line, what about you?" I looked up into his green eyes and laid a hand on his arm.
He looked down at my hand, back into my eyes, and said, "Just south of London, what are you up to young lady?"
I pulled out all the stops, being the best little belle I could be, and cooed, "Just being friendly, I suppose. I must admit I have quite the thing for men with accents, and yours caught my attention and just won't let go. Does that bother you?" I slid even closer, using the excuse of someone trying to get by us to the counter. My hand slid off his arm and rested on his torso. I let it slowly fall until it was on his stomach and was headed lower when he grabbed my arm. I looked up at him and batted my eyes and smirked, "What, you have something more interesting to do while you wait for your plane?"
They called his name from the counter. "Well, hello Davis," I said, "now that I know your name, I'm Arabella, but all my friends call me Bella." Just as I finished talking, they called my name from the counter as well and handed me my coffee. "The least you could do is sit down and drink your coffee with me, I won't bite, unless of course you want me to."
He smiled at me, hung his head for a moment, then looked at me, and gestured towards some chairs sitting nearby. "Why, thank you, don't mind if I do," I said as I winked at him and sat down. I glanced over to where the rest of my travel party was sitting, saw that they were just fine on their own for a little longer and settled into my seat.
"Business, pleasure, or both?" I asked.
"Business, here in Minneapolis," he replied.
"Care to add some pleasure to that business?"
"You are certainly direct aren't you? All I know about you is that your name is Bella and that you've got a nice set of legs."
I pouted and said, "And that's ALL you've noticed?"
"Well, no, but all I figured was polite to say."
