I was sitting at my local library, tapping out on my laptop..much like I'm doing right now. I was so engrossed in what I was writing, that I hardly noticed anybody passing by. As a short story author, I often get so "tuned in" to the stories that I write, that everything else gets tuned out. The phone might ring with a collector..but I don't hear it because my mind ain't on the phone. Or, the house burns down around me. Until the power blinks out, I haven't a clue what just happened.
As it was, I barely noticed the girl who was flitting around the edges of my peripheral vision before she tapped me on the shoulder. I gave her a once-over (which means, I glanced at her body before checking out her face), and then made an attempt at being polite.
"Yes?"
"Um, are you by chance a short story author?" she asked with a hint of desperation and annoyance in her voice.
"I am a short story author, but by choice not chance." I replied with the barest of smiles. Her brown eyes had caught my attention, but not before her ... "bosoms" had. This girl wasn't a teenager (I hoped) and if she was, she was older than 18. The worst thing you can do to a male short story author is to be under 18 and then asking him questions. Because they are sometimes so starved for new material, a young girl really LOOKS like one!
The girl in front of me blushed a bit at my reply and I watched in distanced fascination as the blush crept from her cheeks to her neck, before disappearing down past the neckline of her shirt. Part of me wanted to FOLLOW that blush, but that'd be jumping the gun...and I'd already been mace'd before.
"Would you care if I asked you 10 questions in a short interview?" she asked as she nervously twisted the bottom of her shirt with her fingers. I noted that her nails were black and I wondered if they matched anything else.....
"I'd need an explanation for your line of questions. I'm not all that busy, but I am an author and this pretty much is my set aside time to pursue a story line and create characters and their stories." I felt kinda bad for saying it, but at this point, I was talking to her and my story was fading into the nether regions of my mind. It was like a guilt trip that only existed if I was truly serious about this story. At the moment, I wasn't.
"Ok, I'll start from the beginning," she said with the rarest of smiles. I noted that she couldn't bring herself to smile the smile that is so often used by insurance company receptionists as they greedily take your money month after month. She continued, "My name is Ronnie and I'm in a nearby college. Part of my psych classes is to find a local author and ask them a series of 10 questions to find out why they do what they do. Then, if necessary, I do a follow-up interview at a later date for less of an "interview" feel and more of a "psychology" feel."
When she first started talking, the words had come out unclear and rushed. But, she slowed down and her words became more direct and concise. Hearing that she was in college cleared up any idea for me that she'd be a JB (jail bait) girl. And when she said the word "feel" twice..I felt as though that might be an invitation to "feel her up".
"Tell you what," I started to reply as I hit the "CTRL + S" combo of keys to save my current document. The machine only whirred as the necessary command was followed through. "You've pretty much interrupted my train of thought, but I needed the break. I'll give you an hour and if you can ask your ten questions in that hour, both of our needs for the moment will be met. However, I have to say: You are an attractant to my eyes, no matter what you say about your own description. I have my weekend free and would like to make these two interviews by the weekend so that I'll know that I can go back to my storyline without having to wonder when you're going to show up again. But I have a few questions for you first because I want to know that I'm not giving you answers that you're not looking for. Take a seat and I'll grill you before you grill me."
She took a seat and I noted for the first time how curvy in all the right places she was. I had mental images flashing in front of my very creative mind of what it would be like to go downtown.... The thought nearly took me, but I fought it off with an effort.
"First off, how did you know where to find me? I don't exactly advertise that I write in the local library." I decided to start things off easy and casual.
"I have to confess," she said with a grin, "that my major is psychology and my minor is criminal science. So, I combined the two of them and asked for some favors. The favors granted me access to the filing system at the local library that listed all the local authors." Noticing my raised eyebrows, she quickly explained. "Before you ask, the file on you had a picture, so I already knew what your face looked like."
"Is that a good thing or bad thing to know what my face looks like?" I asked with a return grin.