Story 12Button 12



Her eyes are brown,
Sumptuous like dark chocolate.
This is the first time we have met,
A blind date.
And now I am sort-of looking in her eyes,
As she talks.
Her voice lilting,
Carrying the conversation forward.
I half-listen, half-understand and half-expect.
Her flowing words
Tangle in my curly hair.
My attention is drawn
By the heave of her bosom,
Blanched beneath the silken blouse,
Just simply taunting me,
Lustily nudging me
Towards impending

She talks more.
She has delicate features
And an interesting chin.
She speaks vividly about
Her internship at the treasury,
Nervously poking her hair
Behind her ears
Now and then.
The gentle pout of her lips
Is invitingly enticing.
I tell her all about the perils
Of altitude sickness
And the triumphance of
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
I have never been to Africa.

Her cream blouse covers her slight frame.
Translucent if I concentrate.
Her breasts are ample
For such a gazellian girl.
The starfishy buttons catch my eye.
My fingers slide up and down
The cool steel of my cutlery,
Absentmindedly caressing,
As her mouth moves,
And various words come out.
Is she talking about her family?
A sister perhaps?
I am only quarter-listening now.
I gaze vaguely
Into her expressive, chocolate eyes,
Stealing glances now and then,
At the prize beneath her blouse.
And then I notice…

A starfish has escaped.
A button has been freed.
I snatch a glorious sight
Of peachen skin,
Paler than lacy bra.
I try to hide my stares
Among mhmms and yeahs,
Making eye contact
When required.
My arrhythmias wobble,
As I glimpse a glance
Of pure nippular,
Areolic delight.
And she says to me,
Something about the triple dip.



by Adam Hani

© YaZoul (2013)




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