Waiting at a restaurant bar
To meet my wife for dinner
And this woman walks in
Can’t help staring at her
I mean, this girl is hot
Rounded and tight, wicked curves
When she turns, I hold my breath
My god, she has incredible curves
She’s a little short, but whatever
A body like that, who cares about height?
She’d be tall enough in my bed
On her back or on all fours
It’s all good, all she’s got
Hair pulled back in a ponytail
Skin-tight T-shirt, cut low and high
Bright orange short shorts, and tight
Ah, yes, she wears French cut…
And across her ass, the word “midfielder”
I get to see that several times
Don’t know what it means, don’t care
And I’m thinking, just go away
I don’t need this right now
You’re too hot and I’m too tempted
Just keep walking and I’ll be okay
But look at that ass, those tits, those lips
She’s built to play and I’m feeling frisky
Imagination and temptation rising
Just look at that body
Just think what I could do with that
No baggage, no waiting, just raw
She’s so ripe and I’m so ready
No, no, stop that – I’m married
And I’m waiting here for my wife
Keep it cool, this is not a problem
So then she sits down next to me
Oh great, like I needed this
Too distracting, too tempting, too much
Maybe if I don’t look, it’ll be easier
Like maybe I’ll forget she’s there
Eyes on my drink, aren’t ice cubes fascinating?
I could just stare at ’em for hours…
Why is she looking at me?
Uh-oh, she’s going to talk; not good
Uh, hello, how are you?
Now why the hell did I ask that? Too late…
I’m good, she says, and I believe her
Stop that, this is just small talk
I’m not a teenager, no pickup lines here
Just two strangers talking in a bar
Passing the time in anonymous social…
I’m Alicia, she says with a smile
I’m Brad, I lie; can she tell?
Hi, Brad. Guess not
Maybe she doesn’t care
Maybe she doesn’t know any better
I mean, she looks pretty young
Late teens, early 20s
How much experience could she possibly have?
Does she even think to look for a ring?
Would she care if she saw one?
Hi, Alicia. You waiting for someone, too?
Yeah. I guess I should call her, huh?
And then she laughs, and touches me
I heard this great joke today…
She tells me and it’s funny
She’s still touching me
Why don’t I pull away?
Then I hear myself saying,
Hey, that reminds me of a joke…
She laughs when I tell it
Head back, eyes bright, mouth wide open
She really liked my joke, no faking
So now we’re trading jokes
Laughter comes easily, and more touching
I hardly notice now – but I do notice
I don’t stop her, I don’t mention I’m married
Maybe this is just harmless fun
My wife could show up any moment now
Oops, gotta run, thanks for the laughs
But not yet, and I’m sweating now
She keeps touching me, subtle but repeated
She’s so sexy and I’m so tempted
Why can’t she just go away?
The jokes and stories are quite raunchy now
We’re deep in hard-core thoughts
I need to resist, I need to walk away
I can’t, I just can’t
I’m so ashamed
Might as well get something for my pain, then…
She leans forward, another private dirty joke
What a view she gives me
(Hey Alicia…nice rack!)
I mean, look at those tits
Look at them – big, round, firm, delicious
She knows I’m looking
She wants me to look
She’s got me hooked, we both know it
The question is, what will I do?
First, I laugh at her joke
It’s really funny and really nasty
Yeah, she knows what she’s doing
Then I look at her, just look
My eyes say what my lips can’t
She looks away, suddenly overwhelmed
The rules of the game have changed
But have they really?
She pulls out her cell phone:
Maybe I’d better call my friend.
Her eyes are dancing with mine
Her lips are telling lies
Her body is being honest
My reaction is a reflex, no thought
No, Alicia, and I take her hand
I’ve got a much better idea.
That sounds like a great idea, Brad.
And then we’re both gone…
©2003 Sean Pearson