Good morning Happy Saturday and I hope your weekend is bringing you all kinds of relaxation. Here I have for you a few hundred words, 500 to be exact, of my own bit of relaxation. Hope you enjoy! Click on over to Havan's blog for her take on the same pic!
Meeting Prince Charming
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| photo by nickanizer.stock.xchng |
Cold
wetness seeped through the denim of my jeans, creating a trail of icy goose
bumps all across my body.
"Sorry."
A strong, tanned hand dusted with fine dark hairs and blunt cut nails hovered
in my field of vision. The tail end of what turned out to be a long, dramatic
swirling tattoo just touched his wrist.
I
stared, bemused. The hand wavered, then withdrew.
"Are
you all right?"
Allowing
my gaze to expand beyond the hand, which I suddenly couldn't believe I hadn't
accepted, my jaw dropped. The man who'd crashed into me belonged anywhere on
campus but barreling through the my
office door. He was young, broad, golden in hair, and skin. A whole aura of
Prince Charming hung about him, and my fingers suddenly itched to pick up a
pencil and transcribe sonnets to his beauty and a character that I just knew was as lovely as his person. "I'm okay." And so I would be, just
as soon as my heart stopped racing and my vision returned to normal, because
right now it seemed that somehow landing in a mop bucket on my ass had caused
me to see blurred golden halos and narrowed my vision to a tiny circumference
centered exactly on his concerned face.
He
stood watching as I awkwardly fumbled my way out of the water, grimacing as the
liquid dripped down my body. I had to give him credit though, true to the noble
character my imagination had imbued him with, he didn't laugh at my
predicament. I stood before him pretending to a sang froid that I had never felt in my life. Recalling that he had
come from my office, I ventured to address the Prince. "Is there something
I can assist you with?" I was late, having lost track of time in the upper
rooms of the library, pouring over a volume of fifteenth century French poetry.
I had interviews scheduled for interns for the fall semester, and I couldn't
decide whether to hope he was or wasn't one of the candidates.
"Yeah,"
he breathed softly. Then before I had a moment to realize what he was about,
soft plump lips brushed over mine, and a delicate tongue swiped a tender touch
over my lips before he retreated. "I had an interview scheduled, but I
think I changed my mind. I don't want the job."
Stunned,
I wrestled the demon of desire his kiss had unleashed back under control. He
wasn't a prince, but a demon sent straight from hell to tempt me to
indiscretion. "You can have the job too." I heard the words, and
couldn't believe they'd come from my mouth. No fucking way I wanted this man
for my intern. And no way he could miss the implication, I was his for the
taking.
Smiling
gently, he combed his hand through my hair and cupped my cheek. "Oh hell
no. No need to complicate the power dynamic between us."
"Then
I have interviews."
"I'll
wait."
