Even if her motivation is out of politeness, I welcome any extra time to stare at her body and hear her voice.
I come back from the bar, drinks in hand, and already my friends have swarmed who are easily the two hottest girls in the place. I guess it didn’t take long for them to further investigate who I was sitting with and attempt to answer their questions. Marta seems unaffected by all of them, exchanging pleasantries and giving warm smiles to my friends, but not with the same strength as she was before.
Placing the drinks down on the table, I see one of my buddies staring straight at Marta’s cleavage. The sight of this makes me feel the build-up of what I can only interpret as jealousy mixed with some protectiveness. I know it’s hard for any man not to look at woman’s chest, especially one as hot as Marta, but I feel like she deserves better than to just be the object of someone’s wandering eyes. She is someone to be revered and appreciated. I’ve never had a jealous bone in my body, yet for some reason, I am a little bothered by other men looking at Marta in that way. A passing thought enters my head saying that someone who protects her should be me, but that makes no sense to me since I’ve only uttered a handful of sentences to her.
Interrupting the ogling session, I sit to disrupt the line of sight from my buddy to Marta’s chest and get her attention.
“You two have developed quite a fan club.”
I see the same smile I was aching to come to back to widen across the face of the woman whom I’ve been inexplicably longing for, and I just want to pull her into my arms and see if her lips taste as sweet as they sound. I know that would be a bit forward, thus I opt instead to continue to imagine the taste and settle on just enjoying the sound.
“Jack and Coke for you,” I say, reaching beyond Marta to hand the appropriate glass to Macy. I look back to Marta. “And a Jager bomb for you?” I offer the other glass to her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she responds, taking the glass from my hand. “Cheers,” she says in appreciation as we clink our glasses together.
Seeing her juicy lips on the glass causes my brain to go into overdrive, with my previous thoughts about her lips becoming more explicit. I think of placing her mouth on mine and tasting every bit of it- exploring each inch slowly and completely.
“You look amazing tonight, but I’m sure you already know that.” I let slip out of my mouth.
Blushing a little she dismisses the compliment, looks toward her lap, and responds, “Oh. Yeah... I’ve had this dress for a while and needed a place to wear it. Tonight is the perfect occasion.”
I look at the dress again and appreciate how it hugs her so nicely. “Ah. Well, it looks great on you.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” She looks down to her drink as she stirs it with her s traw. “So you speak Spanish?”
I place my beer on the table and look to her.
“Yes I do.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she recalls as she gestures duh . “We talked about that. Any other languages?”
Trying to sound passive, I say simply, “Italian and French.”
Her eyes widen some and she seems intrigued. “Really? That’s very interesting. So, you have all of the romantic languages down, huh?” She nudges my arm.
I try not to bring a lot of attention to the fact that I’ve lived so many places, causing me to take up several other languages.
I shrug. “I guess so.”
Marta looks into my eyes and gives me a sweet smile.
“ Comment allez, vous, Mick? ”
Somewhat surprised, I ask, “ Parlez-vous Francais? ”
“ Oui .” She adds, “But not all that well. Again...the whole southern thing.”
I tap her cheek playfully with my finger. “ C’est mignon .”
She chuckles and hunches her shoulders slightly in an adorable, shy way.
“That’s sweet of you to say that it’s cute, but my French
I come back from the bar, drinks in hand, and already my friends have swarmed who are easily the two hottest girls in the place. I guess it didn’t take long for them to further investigate who I was sitting with and attempt to answer their questions. Marta seems unaffected by all of them, exchanging pleasantries and giving warm smiles to my friends, but not with the same strength as she was before.
Placing the drinks down on the table, I see one of my buddies staring straight at Marta’s cleavage. The sight of this makes me feel the build-up of what I can only interpret as jealousy mixed with some protectiveness. I know it’s hard for any man not to look at woman’s chest, especially one as hot as Marta, but I feel like she deserves better than to just be the object of someone’s wandering eyes. She is someone to be revered and appreciated. I’ve never had a jealous bone in my body, yet for some reason, I am a little bothered by other men looking at Marta in that way. A passing thought enters my head saying that someone who protects her should be me, but that makes no sense to me since I’ve only uttered a handful of sentences to her.
Interrupting the ogling session, I sit to disrupt the line of sight from my buddy to Marta’s chest and get her attention.
“You two have developed quite a fan club.”
I see the same smile I was aching to come to back to widen across the face of the woman whom I’ve been inexplicably longing for, and I just want to pull her into my arms and see if her lips taste as sweet as they sound. I know that would be a bit forward, thus I opt instead to continue to imagine the taste and settle on just enjoying the sound.
“Jack and Coke for you,” I say, reaching beyond Marta to hand the appropriate glass to Macy. I look back to Marta. “And a Jager bomb for you?” I offer the other glass to her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she responds, taking the glass from my hand. “Cheers,” she says in appreciation as we clink our glasses together.
Seeing her juicy lips on the glass causes my brain to go into overdrive, with my previous thoughts about her lips becoming more explicit. I think of placing her mouth on mine and tasting every bit of it- exploring each inch slowly and completely.
“You look amazing tonight, but I’m sure you already know that.” I let slip out of my mouth.
Blushing a little she dismisses the compliment, looks toward her lap, and responds, “Oh. Yeah... I’ve had this dress for a while and needed a place to wear it. Tonight is the perfect occasion.”
I look at the dress again and appreciate how it hugs her so nicely. “Ah. Well, it looks great on you.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” She looks down to her drink as she stirs it with her s traw. “So you speak Spanish?”
I place my beer on the table and look to her.
“Yes I do.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she recalls as she gestures duh . “We talked about that. Any other languages?”
Trying to sound passive, I say simply, “Italian and French.”
Her eyes widen some and she seems intrigued. “Really? That’s very interesting. So, you have all of the romantic languages down, huh?” She nudges my arm.
I try not to bring a lot of attention to the fact that I’ve lived so many places, causing me to take up several other languages.
I shrug. “I guess so.”
Marta looks into my eyes and gives me a sweet smile.
“ Comment allez, vous, Mick? ”
Somewhat surprised, I ask, “ Parlez-vous Francais? ”
“ Oui .” She adds, “But not all that well. Again...the whole southern thing.”
I tap her cheek playfully with my finger. “ C’est mignon .”
She chuckles and hunches her shoulders slightly in an adorable, shy way.
“That’s sweet of you to say that it’s cute, but my French
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