My coworker leaned over to me as she walked by, “Dude, that chick is so fucking fine.”
“The redhead?” I said, watching her stroll by with a smoothie of some sort.
“Yeah, dude. She works right down there,” He motioned, “She walks by here all the time.”
“So talk to her!” I urged.
“No way, dude! What, am I just going to call her over next time she walks by and just strike up a conversation with her?”
“Why not?” I asked.
He shrugged me off and moved on. Over the next few days I would watch as this girl walked by, studying her form and figure.
She had a petite build and stood at a towering 5’3”. No visible tattoos that I could see and medium length red hair, usually pulled up in a pony tail.Her facial features were soft, and combined they made her face very interesting to look at.
I’m sure she caught me looking a time or two, as she had become a show-stopper for me each time she would walk by our little workplace.
I do this sometimes, find a woman that is intriguing to me and study her beauty. Usually, the more I do this, the more it happens, the more I study, the more I begin to like the person.
I followed this pattern with Christina, leaving me now at the “smile, heart flutter” stage of expectation. I enjoy this feeling. It’s like a little secret that I have, and no one knows about it.
Whenever she walks by and I happen to notice, my heart skips a little and I immediately begin thinking of all the ways I want to have her.
That’s old school sexual vibrancy they don’t teach you anymore: Visualization and fantasy will help you push forward and send out the appropriate body-language signals.
You want to be sexual without sexualizing, sensual without being inappropriate. You want to avoid being a creep.
If I’m going to be at the heart-skip stage of “enamored”, I might as well try my luck with her, right? That’s how I saw it, anyway.
A few days after my conversation with my co-worker, I looked and happened to see redhead girl walk by our establishment. I knew she’d be passing again soon, on her way back to her job, so I positioned myself near the entrance.
A few moments later I looked up and noticed she was walking back our way, but she seemed like she was going to keep a good distance from our store.
That wouldn’t work. I could shout, I guess, but that was already my plan (sort of), and I didn’t want to go from attention-getting to cat-calling. And a whistle or yell across 30 feet is definitely crossing that line.
She must have read my mind because, on a moment’s notice, she turned on a dime and began walking exactly in my direction. She was avoiding eye-contact, looking down at her feet as she walked.
Self-esteem is moderate. Odd in a pretty girl these days. Probably still lives at home, then.
This was the first time I’d seen her this close up. She was absolutely beautiful, though a bit younger than I was expecting. I figured her for 24 or 25, but upon closer inspection I’d say she’s in the 20ish range. Several years younger than I thought.
But I’m fine with that.
She got within an appropriate distance.
“Hey!” I raised my voice, using my favorite opening line.
She looked up at me, smiled a friendly smile and locked eyes.
“Come here.” I said, and motioned with my hand.
She turned a bit in course and walked up to me. A little giggle escaped her mouth by accident.
“Yes?” She said in a coy way.
“What’s your name?” I asked with a smirk.
She giggled again, this time holding back a cute laugh. “Christina, why?”
I reached out a hand, “I’m Remy.”
She took my hand and for a moment I held hers; No shaking, no movement, never breaking eye contact. Just physical connection. It was like electricity.
Her other hand quickly went to her mouth as she continued to giggle like kid. It was sweet.
I let my hand slide out of hers. “That’s it,” I said, “Have a good day.”
I smiled. She smiled back, “Okay, you too!” She said before she turned and walked away.