Just a Bad Day...

Nothing like a string of bad days to keep a guy realistic. Mail delayed, trains delayed, busses delayed. Something about a rainy day that just makes you want to smile. Right. No big deal. Classes will be starting soon enough. Then I'll have a whole list of new problems to upset myself with. My only concern no was getting to the bookstore before it closed, which would be easier if it wasn't Sunday. That's right..the "day he rested". I suppose a day of laziness makes the bus drivers God-like.

That's okay...I took the train anyway.

Coming out of the station in the area is like strolling into "Teeny-bopper" central. Wave after wave of cookie-cutter Britstina Speguileras clones, or droves of attention-craving "Goths" who consider themselves unique only because they look exactly like all of their friends...and their friends' friends..and their friends' friends' friends. It must take a lot of effort to be depressed when your parents have enough money to buy the planet. No big deal, round the corner..in the doors. 

The doormen...always the smartasses.. "Wet enough out there, buddy?"

My name is not buddy, asshole..."..as long as I keep my hair dry" Having a shaven head is great for one-liners. One-liners are great for not being too offensive as you walk by an idiot. Ah well. There's something misplaced about an escalator in a bookstore. It's amazing what you think of when you're trying to keep your mind off of the day you're having.

I'd made uncommonly good time, for a Sunday at least, so I figured I'd check out some other reading while I was there. Bad mood means stopping and thinking, stopping and thinking means philosophy. Looking from sign to sign on top of each bookcase, I wondered...'they can put an escalator to accommodate their older costumers...but they don't accommodate their short ones?' Midgets are people too. What was I thinking....ah well, here's philosophy..

Now, I'm not a guy that's easily taken aback - but there are some things the mind just isn't ready for..even mine. That thing was her.

Don't get me wrong, she wasn't one of your run of the mill supermodels. Infact, one might be drawn to label her looks "Average", but I sure as fuck ain't "one"... and I know what I like. Believe me, in the idiotic moment I took to take her in, I was damn sure.

I may be a tall guy, but I like my women easy to maneuver, and that was her. She was short, maybe 5'2", give or take. Short hair, but don't ask me what color it was supposed to be before she dyed it dark blue. She was adorned in colors of shade. Black jeans..baggy, frayed at the bottom, probably because of her sneakers...black and navy tie-dye shirt. A black jacket was tied around her waist. I guess she was waiting out the weather.

She was reading Nietzsche.

Wow, I'd never known the true meaning of "piercing" when in reference to a set of spectacular eyes until she look at me...or within me I should say. From behind thin, artsy frames, two green rays like daggers into my soul. I was disarmed at first glance. Hey, you would be too.

"Um...can I...help you?"

Yes, you can help me find where my jaw landed. "Hmm? Err, no, I'm sorry, I saw you were reading Nietzsche." I motioned to her book. "I've heard much about him, though never had the opportunity to read up on him much." See, 'heard much about him' means I heard the name in a movie once or twice. I couldn't get over her smoky, powder-esque voice. Like speaking to an old-time jazz singer.

"Well, I got caught in the rain, soooo...figured I'd wait it out." she quirked a brow and coy smirk, "It seems you know the feeling" She was likely noting my soaked, grey jacket. I was wearing similarly baggy black cargo pants and a tight black shirt, so the jacket was the only give away that I hadn't been smart enough to carry an umbrella.

I've never met a woman who could speak so softly, yet be so easily heard. It was like her voice was echoing through my mind and not even coming from between those supple lips. Naturally pink, mind you.

"Yeah, since I'm a genius I figured I'd neglect to bring an umbrella on a day when it was supposed to rain."

She giggled slightly. Not that ditzy, blonde giggle..the honest non-blonde, "I just happen to laugh this way", intelligent giggle.

"Well my TV's busted, so at least I have an excuse." She had me there. We both smiled slightly and laughed it off. She had an honest smile. Come to think of it, everything about her felt honest.

Then came the momentary silence. You know, the moment where you continue to walk on you merry way after a brief interaction with a random stranger. Hell if I was lettin' this go...pfft, hell if I knew what to say. Believe it or not..she did.

"Got a name, Genius?" Her voice trembled very slightly. You'd have to be looking for it to hear it. I guess I made her nervous. Well, being 6'1 and standing over someone can have that effect. No idea why she spoke to me then..

"Uh yeah...Thomas. Thomas Jackson. Everyone just calls me TJ, though." I squatted, hoping to be less imposing. However, with eyes like her's, I was the one who felt nervous. I extended a hand.

"Devon...pleased to meet you, TJ." She placed her hand in mine like silk sheets laid upon a bed. The tenderness of her hands beset contrary to the strength of her words. 'Devon'..something in that name could invert my very spirit about the planes.

"Likewise" I hated that word, but used it anyway. "This seat taken?"

"Only by ghosts."

"Oh they won't mind then." She smelled wonderful. Vanilla.

We sat and talked for a while. Discussed Nietzsche and Existentialism. I couldn’t even spell existentialism a moment ago, and now I was discussing it like I knew what I was talking about. A few minutes later the rain lightened up. I couldn't let this come to an end. I stuttered through an invitation to the Starbucks around the corner. I hated Starbucks and everything it stood for, but it was all I could think of, which I told her. She giggled again and agreed, she hated it too. As she rose I moved slowly, taking in her visage. She wasn't super thin, nor was she by any means fat. Didn't look like the working out type either, but she certainly didn't spend hours in front of a TV all day. At least not more than I did.

The balance of her weight was in her legs, punctuated by an ass that begged to be caressed. Poetic curves along her sides playing to her chest as she turned. Her shirt rode slightly up to betray an elegant navel piercing. Maybe a B cup..sensible and balanced were her mind and body. I could feel myself wanting to lean forward, take her into me and with my tongue speak desire upon her neck as my gaze drew over it. Continuing up to a smirk played across those desirable lips, and caught again by her invading emerald stare.

"Ready?"

If you had any idea..how much I'd like to.."Certainly."