01 > Gallery of Femininity: Night Cap
"Want to come up?" Innocent words. Innocent smile; she had an innocent smile. I'd just met Janice. She was out dancing tonight, just like I was. I'd like to say I was there purely for the dancing, but I know better than that now. You want yourself to be pure and innocent, but the truth lying just behind your comfort is that you're usually leaving your house for more... amorous purposes.
The modern world gives you too many conveniences to leave your home, after all. Let alone go to someone elses. Why would you ever leave?
Janice takes a sip of her coffee, and like a mirror with a delayed reaction, so do I. Her mouth smiles at me, but her eyes smile wider. We'd been talking nonstop for the last few hours at the diner just down the street, She'd only just invited me up. When I was younger, I would have been presumptuous. Would have known why I was here. Not with Janice, though.
Janice wasn't like other girls. She had class. A style and sense of self that didn't match up with anyone else I'd ever met. I figured her for a maneater at first, but as we continued to talk, I figured that either I was wrong, or she was better at pulling the wool over my eyes than the best shepherds could ever hope to be.
"I like your place. Must be quiet." I'm feeling through the dark like a blind man. Searching for the right words.
"It is." Her response is swift, even as she smiles at me. It's the kind of smile that tells you to shut up. Usually the kind that precedes the best kisses you've ever had.
But there wasn't any.
She just sat there, looking at me from her perch, as I stumbled with my coffee cup. Most of the time she just stared into my eyes. Peering at me with great orbs that made your blood boil. It gave you goosebumps, and worse, it made you shake from trying not to lose control.
Janice was the one in control. More than any other girl I'd ever met. I've been trapped and overwhelmed at the same time by two polar opposites.
Janice doesn't have anything on in the house but lights. Not even a digital clock. She dressed just far enough in the past to know what it still means to live in the moment, without living in the future. Part of me would like to say that I was uncomfortable with this. You could actually manage to single out the humns and whines of the piping in the walls. Even the buzzing of the lights.
But she just stared at me. Our eyes locked together like a kid's most prized bicycle.
I found my soul a couple of decades back.
"It's time," Her voice echoed as she stood and took her hand in mine. This is it, I thought. This is where I fall in love.
She walked me to the door.
Her hands brushed up and down my arms, and held my hands for a long moment. She smiled again. This one faint and lost in the mists of... regret? I couldn't place it then, and truth be told, I still can't...
I heard the locks turn on the old oak door, even as her brass apartment numbers stared at my face. These cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to Janice's personality.
A Brush is all it took. That brushing of ones soul against another. I knew in that instant, as I started up my OpticalBlog, that she would never be in my life again. No kiss, no sex, and barely even a touch.
But the eyes were made to be remembered.
I should leave my house more often.
(GALLERY OF FEMININITY: A Project that struck me some time ago. I've collected a decent amount of images of various women from the LiveJournal Random Image Generator, and they're becoming tales. Stories. A collection of short blurbs that are introspection into how Women affect men, society, and vice versa. I don't know how long this will last per se, but I hope to have one a week.)
all but the image is (c) 2004 Eric Logan Taylor.