Two days later, more shopping to do. Waiting in the queue. Seeing the woman in the adjacent checkout. My heart lurching slightly, cogs suddenly meshing into gear. Her quiet charm, soft smile, elegance, how could I not have registered more fully before?
Now, a new passing interest to brighten up my life, a long-term low-key seduction campaign on the woman at the supermarket. The next time, choosing her lane carefully, saying hello, chatting, how long have you been working here?, do you have far to travel?, it’s windy outside, suchlike.
Shopping no longer a chore. Sometimes she’s not there. That’s fine, I’m not there all the time either. Then sometimes she is. A surge of happiness, the joy of a beautiful woman’s presence.
Tiny bits of her life emerging. She’s a student, studying mathematics, just started her first year, just finished school. Realizing with a shock how young she is, probably explains it, she makes me feel like a first-year student myself, falling in love years ago with a woman like her, out of my depth, out of my league.
Thinking about her on my way home, wondering what she’ll do. Maybe pair up with one of her contemporaries, yet students seem somehow too juvenile for her. Perhaps that’s just me projecting my own desires, kidding myself, what she needs is an older man, one such being conveniently to hand, namely me.
And it’s true, some younger women are attracted to older men. Question is, why? Answer, the female search for security, an evolutionary imperative. The older man, attractive because of imagined wealth.
Getting home, unpacking. The girl still on my mind. But the thought of her actual presence now ambiguous. Having her, an exciting thought. Providing for her, who needs the burden? Better to enjoy her for what she is, a pleasant daily distraction.
This morning, half-awake, her body curving into mine, her eyes closed, her hair fragrant, the smell of her sex still on my fingers. Slowly with wakefulness disappearing. The fantasy so fantastic as to make actuality inconsequential.
