Unmistakeable but wasted in the sense of unnecessary. The other customers fix their designer coffee cups with interested stares. No one is going to sa... anything. Her smile is wasted as there will be no eye contact. I alone in the café try, an exercise in futility to match hers thanks to the forgotten red lensed sunglasses, which hide the ‘are you REALLY fine?’ question in my eyes as perfectly as they had earlier screened my hopeful vigil for a glimpse of underwear between crossed thighs. No. He longed to reach down and touch her. She turned and smiled. “This way.” She walked ahead of him to the house. “I’m afraid Jason’s not here. He’s at football practice.” He set the bags down on the kitchen counter where Mrs. York wanted them. She offered him a cold drink and he accepted her offer, a soft drink, and he followed her directions towards the family room. He was admiring the magnificent view out of the full-height windows when he heard a voice close behind him, almost in his ear.. More

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