In most of my stories I try not to outline either character too much as I want every man reading to feel like they are the lead, likewise I want every woman mentioned to be slightly vague to allow for the reader to fill in the blanks. In this story however I have given one of my many representations of what I call a perfect female and a little hint at myself.
If you make it to the end I would very much like to hear your thoughts.
*
The library is my favourite place to write. The upper floor is a spectacular room, a series of old and fantastically made tables surrounded by seven foot high old oak book cases with row upon row of leather bound reference books. Slightly detracting from the grandeur, unfortunately, are the chairs. Rather typically modern types made from metal and cheap scratchy fabric, the kind that are easiest to replace once worn out. The room is also home to some of the oldest books I have ever seen, but for as long as I have been there I have never seen anyone touch them.
I love going there when things at home are a little hectic. It's warm, quiet and the reference room is usually only ever populated by law or medical students who are too busy with their piles upon piles of books to disturb me.
Today was a bad day! I have been trying to write the next chapter of my novel for the last hour and for the last hour I have written absolutely nothing but dribble, nonsense ideas that will most likely be scrapped as soon as I get going.
In pure frustration I stop my iPod and cast my headphones on top of my nearly blank paper. Allowing my eyes to roam around the room I see all the usual things. People with their heads down scribbling away, a librarian sat so still she could quite easily be a life like statue and all I see is a total and complete lack of inspiration. My mind turns to life's troubles as I think about leaving the library for a while, maybe get a sandwich from a local deli. The sound of high heeled footsteps distracts me and I crane my neck to look for the owner.
The air is forced violently from my lungs as I see her!
Striding into the room walks the most stunning woman I have ever seen. Looking at her is like looking at directly into the sun and I feel offended by her beauty. To lessen the pain I focus down on every detail. Her boots were the first thing I see. Black ankle boots decorated with a small bow on the outer sides, a moderate sized heel, the source of the noise that had attracted now more than a flicker of my attention. My eyes flowed upwards drinking in all the details.
Her legs clad tightly in a false jean material showing every curve, the outward arch of her calf muscle makes her look like an Olympic athlete, powerful yet elegant. Her stomach slightly exposed as her top doesn't quite fall to her waist line. A perfectly flat middle peaked out as she walked, each footstep throwing her top to and fro. The top itself was fairly simple, vertical black and white stripes. Over the top she wore a short black leather jacket.
'A rebel,' My mind thought quickly and with increasing excitement. Or perhaps she wore it simply for the look, but either way I liked it.
My eyes lingered on her bust briefly as with every step she took her breasts visibly bounced. Either her bra was loose and ill-fitting or she wasn't wearing one at all. Her breasts large in size and natural, something of a personal weakness. It took a rather large amount of effort to tear my eyes away and look at the lady's face.
She wore not a scrap of make-up, a factor that I always loved to see. A woman who didn't feel she had to buy a tonne of crap and spread it across her face before stepping outside of the house. To me it showed intelligence and bravery.
It was plain to see she had no make-up on by the fact I could see a light spread of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the look of her eyes and lips were also obviously natural and dreamy. Her skin tone was pale and she was capped with almost pitch black hair. She turned to a table as I looked, putting down her arm full of books and swinging her bag off her shoulder. The motion caused her hair to sway and my mouth dropped open.
She was gorgeous from top to toe, her sense of dress complimenting her natural features, but the icing on the cake was her choice of hair style. Shoulder length, black and simple, except for the one side of her head that was shaved down almost to the scalp. She adjusted her hair as I watched and pushed some of the long hair behind her ear, exposing her shaved scalp and completing an image that would sear itself into my brain for the rest of my life!
Perfection sat down and before I could recall my self-control she glanced around the room and ended up looking directly at me.
Electricity, adrenaline, overwhelming emotion and her eyes sent a feeling of euphoria running through my whole body. I closed my gapping mouth and smiled at her, I raised my hand slightly, waving a feeble wave.
I thought my heart might explode when she smiled back at me with the most striking smile I had ever seen! Wiggling her fingers quickly as she sat down and started reordering her books.
Reminding myself that I was there to write. Picking up my pen I put it to paper but found myself unable to think of anything else other than the lady sat only a few feet from me.
I stole glances at her for nearly five minutes, telling myself it was wrong to be so attracted to someone I didn't know. Pre-ten minutes ago I considered myself an intelligent person and not the kind to get into a relationship just because of superficial issues like dress sense and sexual attraction. Such things were fleeting, subject to change and could not last. Yet as I sat there I wondered if this wasn't what love at first sight felt like. Every cell in my body seemed to be pulling towards her. Perhaps, I thought, that gravity was a lie and she was the reason I was bound to this Earth. I stole another glance at her and froze.
Sitting with her head resting on her right hand, her left tapping her pen against a book, she sat looking at me. She was smiling that smile at me again.
Swallowing doubt and holding tight to the feeling of kismet I acted with a move of courage rather unlike myself, I gestured to her. Nodding my head to the empty seat opposite me. She didn't move but I knew she understood me as her eyes considered the empty chair.
I left my hopefully subtle move hanging between us. Looking back to my blank paper, determined to not look at or bother her again if she didn't react. If this was playing hard to get then it was bloody hard!
Almost two minutes passed feeling like two hours and I assumed I had failed. Increasingly worried I had upset the lady I was a second away from getting up and leaving when the chair opposite pulled out.
Looking up I saw her as she smiled down at me, mouthing a silent hello to me as she placed her stuff down and glided into the chair.
"Hi." I whispered not able to keep the joy from my barely audible voice.
She put her finger gently to her lips, telling me not to talk. I picked up my pen and scribbled on my paper.
"What's your name?" I flipped the pad round and slid it over to her. Her striking green eyes dropped down to read. She smirked and scribbled something and sent it back.
