My 3-hour romance...

It began like most such instances begin: A friendly encounter at a get-together hosted by a mutual friend. In the midst of all the laughs, I caught her glance from the corner of my eye; staring into blankness she was, as if waiting for a trigger to push her towards a sense of meaningful purpose.

I extended my hand, and she accepted. And from there started this episode of rare socially endorsed remarkability. After some more time with the boys, we headed off. But where to?
With that question still unanswered, our little steps led us to the jetty, where soon enough my memory reminded me of the urgent need to coordinate with people regarding an upcoming event. Excusing myself, I made the call which would instruct me to rush to my team, and then accompany them for a dry run of their plan.

I hung up, looked into her knowing eyes, and smiled at her effortless, though unasked consent. Taking her by the arm, I made my way to the team room. After some general chit-chat, we headed for the dry run, in the accompaniment of a few more members. All this time she was right there next to me, perhaps growing weary of the sidelining, perhaps not.

Either way, one thing was for sure. With every detached moment I spent with her, her neediness increased in very tangible terms, which translated to the way she looked at me, touched me, the works.

Passers-by and colleagues passed glances at us, owing to her slightly out-of-place presence. Nice feeling it was, somewhat reminiscent of Clapton's classic. Wonder if she felt strangely the same way.

Returning to the timeline. Event test done, went off for another little errand, before heading to a friend's room, and introducing her to her. Having kidded about the eroticity of holding one's partner for this long just a while back, I realized its true force while sitting there. I lavished praise on the little thing next to me, in a manner not unlike a champion stud's owner. Savouring every single bit of her existence, I explained to my fast-growing-confounded friend, the joys of having someone vie for one's attentions at all times. In generous detail, I waxed eloquent on how my muse tasted on my lips, on the tip of my tongue, and how the sweetness was perhaps a result of her having to fight off competition from the engagements described previously.

I wasn't sure if my uninhibited rambling displeased her. It didn't really matter though, for in accordance with the pattern thus far, her body just got sweeter still; her eyes looked into mine with a passion tinged with pleading, and for that moment, I was all that there was, is, and will be.

Eventually, we left my friend to her case study, and returned to the fateful spot where we'd met only 3 hours back. A friend was alarmed to see that I'd clinged on to her this long (and vice versa). By that time, I had pretty much gotten over as well, the glass almost empty. A brief operational discussion ensued with the encountered friend, after which I looked at her one last time, sipped from her inviting mouth once more, and bid her farewell.

That, was one amazing Smirnoff-on-Pepsi.

Cheers to all that lent themselves to the night, and to her!

PS: If at any point my blatant flamboyance had elicited a "Damn u MCP!" from her, the weak dog in me would have responded with a "Screw u b*tch!"; reflecting upon which, the purported self of mine would've passed a gentle smile, looked heavenwards, and marvelled at His works.

PPS: Being chased (rephrase: courted) is fun! Isn't it?

PPPS: The Importance of being Idle.