TITLE : Just Looking
AUTHOR : Gomey
ARCHIVE : Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag...hehe.
RATING : PG
DISCLAIMER : All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY : "No thanks...just looking."
"Just looking." Eyes downcast, his sheepish reply almost negated the viewing statement. He could smell the lust that emanated from her pores, perversion inciting his salivary glands to bathe his mouth in saliva.
She raised an eyebrow; her hips gyrating as she bent down on stage, legs spread apart as she showcased her red rhinestone thong. "See anything you like?"
His eyes darted to hers, leaving her pondering whether he even took note of her 'goods', instead searching straight for her soul. Her knees hit the ground as her body still moved, a prisoner to melody's spell.
"Maybe - but it's not something appropriate for this setting."
She observed his intense blues, how they just bored deep within. "Oh, are we looking for something kinkier, because I don't do those kind of shows."
He smiled, getting up from his seat, after having slipped a twenty dollar bill in her wrist band. "Let's just say I was searching for more of a ... thought inspiring show."
She hopped off stage, the music slowly being forgotten, though her body could not ignore the inherent rhythm spawned within, whenever a beat caressed her senses. "You wanted to talk." She called after him, the twenty dollar bill scratching against her skin but still offering her this sense of comfort never before experienced. "You came to a strip-club to pick up a woman ... to chat?"
He paused, still holding ground with his back facing her. "Not a woman ... you." He turned around, his eyes revealing all. "I'm not interested in your body, despite it being undeniably arousing. It's not just one thing about you that keeps me coming back for more. I love to watch you, but not in the way that these men, for lack of a better word, come to do. I don't ogle, I admire. You have this strength, this passion and drive that just sparkles in your eyes. I want to know what makes your eyes twinkle." He paused, letting out a breathy chuckle. "I want to see myself reflected in that glimmer."
She smiled, her left hand cupping her own cheek to minimize the blush that spread warmth in her cheeks. "I don't know what to say." She giggled nervously; for the first time, flustered in the presence of a suitor.
His eyes watched with mischief, loving the effect he had on her.
Suddenly, a simple glimmer; light reflecting off a polished surface, changed his life forever. "I can't." He muttered, abruptly turning to leave.
She shook her head, still trying to comprehend this new bubbling attraction to the stranger. "What?" She reached out, grabbing his shoulder and turning him towards her. "You come here, spill out this spiel about wanting to see the sparkles behind my eyes, and then leave?" She pushed him back slightly, an incomprehensible anger surfacing. "I don't believe you."
His hand grabbed hold of her left hand, his thumb stroking the simple gold band that lay out of place. "This ..."
"What about it?" She asked, her voice shaky as she indulged in their skin-on-skin contact, be it minutely.
His blues glanced into hers, sincerity speaking forth. "Because it's not mine." His thumb ran over the gold band one last time before he dropped her hand.
"We can still be friends ..." She was surprised at her own impulse; resorting to a childish beg to retain some sort of contact with him.
He shot her a sad grin, his eyes finally appraising her body in a slightly more bolder manner. "Can't happen." He stated, shrugging his shoulders lethargically. "Because I wouldn't be able to see you under such false pretenses."
With that, he turned and walked out of the door, never looking back at the stunned strawberry-blonde who stood bolt-still in the middle of the French Palace's hallway, sweat cooling as a brief burst of midnight air flattened against her body.
Neither saw the hurt in the other's eyes, but somehow had sensed that moment to be just the beginning of many undefinable encounters.
Twenty years later and he still found himself thinking of her. Every day, for those twenty odd years, she danced in his thoughts, minutely suppressing his hunger for her.
And here he was, left with a selection. He already had made his decision, and yet he returned over and over again, never sure if his instinct selection should be his final one.
He glanced around, his eyes observing the many colours and shapes that were flashing all around him. The music in the background seemed so far away, as he found himself zoning out, unable to take his eyes away from her.
A shrill voice jarred him out of his thoughts. "Do you need any help? Are you still looking?" The woman behind the jewellery counter questioned him - a nasally voice that left him fighting not to cringe in front of her.
He put his hand up, dismissing any indication of indecisiveness. His eyes floated over to the strawberry-blonde beside him - the same who he vowed could never be friends with. His eyes tripped down her arm to her left hand, spying a brand-new yet familiar gold band adorning her finger. "No thanks ... I think I found exactly what I was looking for."