I noticed her the first day of school. Casually working her way through the quad. Oblivious to the stares that followed her.
She definitely was attractive. Long, thick, black, curly hair that cascaded down her back in thick luxurious waves. Eyes that danced with a mischievous light, and a smile that would light up the darkest, deepest cave, in the very deepest bowel of the earth. She looked Latina. Even from where I was sitting, reading "The Kite Runner," I could see how self-assured she was. That steely grace that only a woman who is in control, and knows her wants and needs, is able to express just by the way she moves.
My third class that day was English Lit. It was mid- afternoon and the room was too warm. The air- conditioning was making a half-hearted effort to cool the room, but failing miserably. I could feel my eyelids drooping downward like a pair of old drapes.
The teacher, Mr. Brown, was boring enough to put someone in a coma. He spoke in a complete monotone. I could imagine him as a robot, his mouth as a metal slot, the words coming out of his maw in index card size with computer codes, like those old computers from the 50's.
I bit my lip to keep myself from giggling. It was easy to see that he had intoned his introduction over the course of many years, possibly decades. I tried to tune out the formless droning, my eyes following a little fly that had landed on my desk. I yawned. Glancing over the syllabus that he had just passed out, I could also see that he probably hadn't attended any workshops recently. It was probably the same regurgitated form that he been using since about the Second World War.
Glancing around the room, I noticed the usual batch of twenty something's. The girls decked out in the latest fashion. Hip hugging jeans designed to lay low and show a soft strip of tummy. I sighed. The guys were either wearing dopey baseball caps or sporting what I called The Starched Hair Look. A head of hair that stood up straight and tall, like a marine at attention, defying gravity. I felt odd being here. It was a weird feeling being back at school after almost twenty years working a regular job.
As Mr. Brown continued to drone on about his expectations for the class, my heart sputtered as I noticed the cute Latina from the morning. She was sitting down front in the corner. I could see that she wasn't very enthralled with the class either. She had her head cocked to one side, half listening and daydreaming at the same time. Unconsciously, I put my arm on my desk, resting my chin on my hand.
I gazed at her openly. Admiring ever facet of her. She had a graceful neck that tapered down sensually into a snug yellow blouse that pressed in around her breasts accentuating their firm roundness. She wasn't just pretty, she was gorgeous. Sitting by the window, back lit from the sun that was pouring through the window like liquid sunshine, the golden light framed her hair and face in a warm glow. She looked like an angel.
Her eyes wondered around the room, connected with mine, and locked. She looked quizzically at me. My face turned the color of rouge. She knew I had been staring at her. I turned away quickly and began fiddling nervously with my pencil, making doodles on the paper in front of me. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment.
She quite possibly was young enough to be my daughter. She probably thought I was some kind of pervert. In fact, she probably thought that I enrolled in school for no other reason than to goggle at young girls. I slunk further down in my chair, eyes focused downward on the paper in front of me.
.... There is more of this story ...