Wednesday, December 01, 2004

A feminine interlude

I was parched, this was due to the indulgence of the evening before when I'd joined my dad in drinking several Kronenberg's - more than our normal intake.

There we were, heading back from visiting a retail outlet, my throat was screaming for liquid and I suggested to the old man to pull over at the next oppurtunity so I could slake my thirst. In no time we left the hectic dual carriageway, dad mumbled he needed petrol anyway and I hastily jumped out the car and headed for the beckoning fridges that waited for my eager throat.

As I strode across the garage forcourt I saw her using the speedbank terminal, she sported blue jeans that fitted her feminine contours well but not too tight and looking up her torso was adorned by a creamy coloured sweater. From behind I could see her hair was swept back into a neat pony tail but as I got closer she turned away to count her money, I headed into the garage as my thirst got the better of my male curiosity.

Momentarily she'd left my mind, I paid for the refreshments and as I turned there she was, striding towards me in her white sports trainers - a friendly smile on her face. I smiled back weakly as my eyes feasted on the vision before me. She was of average build, curvy feminine hips that swayed gracefully as she walked and her sweater did little to conceal her full and ripe bosom. Looking again at her visage I could see it was totally natural and without cosmetics, framed by rustic brown hair tapered into a pony tail, it was sheer beauty. As she glided past me I turned to again to drink in her voluptuous contours.

I eased myself back into dads car and we both remained silent as she returned to her large saloon model, then we turned and smiled to each other as she sped off, that knowing manly smile that men often exchange.

Then she was gone, I'd never see her again, know her name or anything about her but for those brief moments that cloudy morning she'd captured my imagination.

1 comment:

pat said...

it's what an old work mate of mine calls - "a deposit in the wank bank".
stephen king also used a similiar concept in dreamcatcher - but as i have never read the book, and only watched the somewhat lacklustre movie i can't go into more detail.