My eyes stick on the broad shoulders bent over the sink, the flimsy white t-shirt clinging across the round bulgy bits that show he’s no lank.
His head arches down lost in the soap suds his hands are working. My mind sparks, memories that aren’t supposed to be there taking hold of my attention. My eyes eat it up and the familiarity sweeps up my emotions.
Déjà Vu. Continue reading
I have this fascination with guy’s undies. The white fitted ones in particular. I can’t help it. I guess it’s all in the presentation and because I’m a girl, there has always been an element of the unknown contained inside that fabric. My husband thinks it’s a fetish that I can’t control, but… gawd…white fitted boyshort undies. Let me at him! Continue reading
I know where to look. I know all the tricks; which mirrors reflect where and what can be seen from each.
My eyes blink off to the corporate girl pretending to be unamused with the pamphlet being turned over in her hand.
I don’t get it..?
What is she doing? Continue reading
Why is this happening to her?
This is not so much about Monique Stravinsky, as what she went through. She wasn’t uncool per se but during High School she was one of the uncool kids. So this is a legacy issue.
Why was Monique uncool?
Was Monique uncool?
Monique never really worked up the courage to say hello to the Maths Class Guy, or ever show any interest in him for that matter. Continue reading