She was becomingly dressed in nothing more than a halter top, hot pants and flip flops. Good thing it was summer. She needed summer. She could catch cold otherwise. I could not help wondering whether she sported a bikini underneath all that skimpy clothing. That’s alright. All of them would come right off. Her skin looked clear enough, no blemishes or even a beauty mark.
There were no kids of hers underfoot. No mark of a loose women. She seemed to be alone.
Wanted to give her the once over in my room at home, but wasn’t driving. I kept on embellishing the image, because that was more pleasurable than to think about something more mundane, thought I had my eye on her. Somehow she’d gotten out front when I was still indoors. The weather was warm enough, but she was so stunning I got hot under the collar.
A real estate agent was trying to deal with having a brick house to deal with.
She was a petite little blond, with plenty of everything about her to render her attractive and alluring enough. I responded kindly enough, acknowledging the attraction without embarrassing her. At times, our mutual visit to the drug store called for an acknowledgment. I remembered my life-long obligation to be single, and how difficult it would be for me to manage having a girlfriend.
Oh, how I craved what I knew I could not have. My dogged cooperation was determined to remain uninvolved, but my mind wouldn’t quiet down. Limiting the amount of time I spent talking to her was one of the deliberate precautions I exercised against the darling woman. I’ve devoted my life to a celibacy I dare not oppose. Celibacy has been my commitment for a long time.
My thoughts occupied themselves with every angle of how this woman was put together. Musing a little bit on the taboo subject of marriage, I could scarcely avoid taking her in with my eyes. Her body was sculpted to excellence. She knew. I was grateful her back was to me. She was shorter than I, and not the slightest bit overweight. She had all the female accoutrements of her person.
The blond of her hair was genuine. Being German/American, I’ve made a study of that.
She was a little on the mature side, and that was fine. Her years did not bother me a bit. Probably younger than me, too. Her age made no enrodes against her significant attraction. She was a memorable stranger, not a little old lady. Nor am I an old geezer until at least next week. I’m a single bachelor man, who’s learned to function alone. As a matter of fact, my isolation defends itself.
What could I do, with my brother out in the parking lot, in his car?
It’s been easily more than a decade since I’ve been close to anyone, and instead of submitting to some insane concept of rejection, I’d be sending the ladies packing before I’d realize I’ve done it myself. It is the principle of the thing. There have always been reasons I couldn’t have a girlfriend. Disinclination, no money, no place to stay, you name it. I’ve dealt with my sex drive my own self.
I have no idea who that woman is as an individual, besides her looks. I let her go before I’d won anything else about her. Rejection of women never posed any hardship for me. I’d shoot them down easy enough. This one looked like a female beach bum, and a pretty one at that. She inspired any number of fantasies, but I was adamant. Tom and I left the drug store without so much as a look back.
I know, I must be crazy to walk away from such a beauty, without so much as asking her phone number or email address, her name. People always have their circumstances and agenda. I’m certain she comes fully loaded with every desire and every flaw anyone in general possesses. This woman’s circumstances and disposition might have been as wonderful as associating with her was an unknown.
This was only a chance encounter at a drug store, but I had to be careful. I’ve been hurt badly enough in this life already. Really don’t want to hurt anymore. Kissing is a useless exercise. I don’t understand why kissing is a tradition in the first place. I don’t see the point. Don’t really have an objection to the rest of it, if you’d like to know. Being alone seems more natural to me.
A female beach bum travels abroad in Ginger Beach. I’d like to get a good camera and a talented photographer, and do a whole spread on her with the theme beach bum. She could take it well enough. Sounds like a natural theme to me. Like being a flower child in the seventies. I was not really talking to her while we were there, or making over her at all. I think she knew I appreciated her looks.
She went her way and I went mine.