The other shoe....

see also: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5



The Morning After, pt. 6:



She kissed him(!) and dressed, and turned to leave. "I'm going to take a shower," she smiled, pinning him in place with those (drunken) blue eyes of hers as she reached into the cooler for her other shoe. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

He couldn't speak, couldn't move. Could only nod.

It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive, or intriguing. Quite the contrary.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of their drunken trist - he would've liked to have remembered it, and maybe could've done without the bureaucratic audience this morning, but once he realized that she wasn't actually an artificial shrub (as he'd initially feared), then he was okay with it.

And his few fleeting, disjointed memories of their conversation last night all seemed to be actually rather pleasant.

So what happened was certainly the result of no maliciousness on his part. He, in fact, would've liked to have taken her up on her invitation.

No, the problem came as she walked to the door, and down the stairs, caressing him with those cloudy, beautiful eyes, even as she decended. For in that moment he hit upon one of the hardest truths he would ever learn.

And one of the saddest.




To be continued....
(one more time)