He’d been staring dumbly at her backside for the last 10 minuets. Her hair was held up in a long ponytail. He’d been staring at the white locks before his eyes drug themselves to her backside and he hadn’t moved them since. Her shapely hips where emphasized by the midriff she wore which reveled a cloud tattoo (tramp stamp, lol) in a cartoon-ish style with three yellow lightning bolts contrasting with her lovely brown skin. They’d barley moved in the line at all but you didn’t hear him complaining.
“It is rude to stare, is it not?” her accented playfully remarked to him.
“Hmmph” he growled unintelligibly at her.
Her face. Damn, her face. He couldn’t tear his dark steel grey eyes from her sapphire baby blues. She was gorgeous. To gorgeous for a knuckle head like him. Hell, to gorgeous for any man (or women for that matter). She smiled at him then, her gaze not wavering. His heart tugged.
“So, who you voting for? Yes or No on 8?” she tossed at him.
His adoptive daughter had been living in California for 2 years as a college student and he knew of her bisexual tendencies but he wondered what he should answer to get him in good graces with this goddess.
“Obama. No. You?” he muttered.
“How bout we talk about it over tea?” she was flirting now.
“Sounds good to me darlin’” so was he.
And they did.
The End?
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