deepundergroundpoetry.com
Pretty Thoughts
İvessa07DUP2016
All Rights Reserved
It was a chilly evening in January and I was early to the cafe, the waiter delivered my regular mint shisha and Red Bull and I began inhaling the whispy tendrils of smoke into my lungs. I crossed my legs, rested my shisha lay on my bottom lip, and sunk into my chair. I placed my earbuds into my lobes and pushed play my NYC playlist-smooth beats began to serenade me on a walk down memory lane, occasional half smiles breaking across my face.
The cafe began to fill slowly and my red bull changed to a mint green tea. The sensuous beat and smooth whispery vocals of my somewhat scandalous musical choices inspired me to look up from the bright glow of my phone screen and make eye contact with the many men who were looking my way. My playlist may have said NYC but my surroundings were deep in the heart of Cairo. The way I was dressed and served by the wait staff would have made anyone wonder who the hell I was. If the alabaster skin tone wasn't a dead give away the deep blue eyes certainly screamed that I was foreign but the head scarf confused many-even my closest friends who know me to be Muslim but cannot come to grips with me being openly so and Western born all in the same package.
Scanning the room is something I rarely do because the furtive and hungry glances in my direction make me very conscious of my appearance and I make an effort not to allow my looks give me a false sense of ego. The combination of shisha and seductive melodies emboldened me. I cognitively ensured not to spend more than a few seconds on each face currently affording me attention and I actively prevented my lips from forming a smile or smirk of any kind. This however, made little difference because once the veil of my eyelashes parted to reveal those baby blues it was automatically perceived as an invitation. Adjusted seat positioning, puffing of chest, flexing biceps, fists tightening, and outright lip licking ensued. With the exception of those whose backs were to me who I attempted to focus my attention on if only to show my disinterest in the others.
A dark velvet jacket caught my eye hanging on the back of a chair not too far from me. The jet black hair of the man occupying the chair caught my attention and I indulged in staring at his head rather than engage the other eyes vying for my attention. He was clearly in superior physical condition, broad shoulders covered in a navy blue collared long sleeved shirt, jet-black hair. Creamy tan skin with high cheek bones were revealed when he turned his head slightly to the side after his fellow table-mates gave him the indicative head nod 'hey twelve o'clock bro' with no words actually exchanged. I retreated my gaze to my phone screen and shisha, re-crossed my legs and began scrolling through my emails. Bringing my left hand up to my face in a fist to cover my lips, I noticed something moving in front of me but didn't look up. My expectations were met as the stranger pulled out the chair across from me forcing me to make eye contact. Saying nothing he took his jacket off like he was there to stay, I tried to decipher his thoughts but was distracted by the impeccable bone structure of his chiseled face. Eyebrows raised as if surprised that he had invaded my solitude, he said nothing and sunk in to the chair. I started to undress him with my wandering eyes telling myself that he didn't notice me surveying him.
He crossed his legs, the waiter brought his shisha over to the table as if he were my welcomed guest and I couldn't look away. Earbuds still secure in my ears, soft sexy music was affecting my facial expressions and I unconsciously smiled but passed it off by taking another drag. He looked at me with certainty and I tilted my head downward resting my chin and lower lip on my fist, raised my eyebrow, and looked right back at him. Still no words, his eyes were wandering and undressing me. We visually fucked each other in silence exchanging blushing smiles and caressing the others skin with nothing but our eyes.
Our eye contact was only disturbed by the opaque flame-shaped smoke clouds from our shisha. I was lost to my music and he was fingering his shisha lay in a suggestive manner. His friends bore a hole in the back of his head and the front of mine, not able to decipher what was going down at our adjacent table. He only had eyes for me, and appeared to be unconcerned with creating a show for them, which only made him more attractive.
The cockiness of his approach was seductive. Very 'two strangers in a bar.' I unconsciously bit my bottom lip and revealed an open teeth smile and quickly shook my head. I folded my hands over one another, rested them in my lap over crossed legs, and leaned back in my wicker chair. Now with my full attention he uncrossed his legs leaned forward and rested his shisha lay across his lap. He extended his arm towards my face, grazed my right jawline to remove one earbud and then with the back of his fingers moved under my chin to the other side and removed the second set-staring deeply into my eyes to gauge my reaction as he did so. The move was subtle but made my abdomen lurch and my deep exhale onto the back of his hand made the hair on his wrist stand on end. His purple lips parted and he lowered the earbuds to the table, leaned back into his chair smiling, and resumed smoking his shisha still silent.
'The nerve of this guy,' I thought to myself, I brought my hand back up to support my face, resting my elbow on the glass table top and looked back at him expectantly waiting to hear his voice... nothing... he raised his chest slightly and slowly moved his gaze down my body. His hunger for me could not have been more obvious and I had to look away because I was not accustomed to being mentally undressed in such a manner-especially by a stranger who hadn't even introduced himself before being so forward. He cleared his throat, motioned to the waiter, and pointed at my tea with his index finger raised. A conciliatory nod meant this silent command was understood and the waiter hastened to fetch him the beverage returning almost too quickly as if he didn't want to miss the show.
When the tea arrived he ritually added two spoonfuls of sugar, stirred, and then brought it to rest on his bottom lip as he blew onto the surface to cool it down. The tip of tongue made contact with the liquid and lip of the cup before he drank and now I was the one staring at him. My guests had arrived at the entrance of the cafe and my heart plunged into my stomach as I nodded to them to come to the table. He noticed the three men coming closer and his expression faded. I stood to greet them with handshakes and half hugs as they pulled odd chairs over to join me and expectantly waited for me to introduce the stranger. He simply stood, moved in close to me, put his hand around my waist, softly rested his cheek on mine for a moment and whispered 'nice to meet you.' He released his palm from my lower back, and slung his jacket over his shoulders. Rather than returning to his table he went to cashier, paid for his drink and shisha, looked over his shoulder at me...smiled...and left.
The evening passed slowly after the odd questioning about the handsome stranger which forced me to make up a story. When the evening was wrapping up and I asked for my check the waiter brought the bill to my seat with the note 'paid in full,' from O.S. followed by phone number. The waiter was obviously tasked to deliver this end-of-evening surprise and delighted to be included in the exchange, he winked, gave a perfunctory bow and left the bill in my hand. I avoided the odd looks from my friends who prodded me like school boys for an explanation that I could not give.
The silent masculine act worked on me and I left planning my repose!
All Rights Reserved
It was a chilly evening in January and I was early to the cafe, the waiter delivered my regular mint shisha and Red Bull and I began inhaling the whispy tendrils of smoke into my lungs. I crossed my legs, rested my shisha lay on my bottom lip, and sunk into my chair. I placed my earbuds into my lobes and pushed play my NYC playlist-smooth beats began to serenade me on a walk down memory lane, occasional half smiles breaking across my face.
The cafe began to fill slowly and my red bull changed to a mint green tea. The sensuous beat and smooth whispery vocals of my somewhat scandalous musical choices inspired me to look up from the bright glow of my phone screen and make eye contact with the many men who were looking my way. My playlist may have said NYC but my surroundings were deep in the heart of Cairo. The way I was dressed and served by the wait staff would have made anyone wonder who the hell I was. If the alabaster skin tone wasn't a dead give away the deep blue eyes certainly screamed that I was foreign but the head scarf confused many-even my closest friends who know me to be Muslim but cannot come to grips with me being openly so and Western born all in the same package.
Scanning the room is something I rarely do because the furtive and hungry glances in my direction make me very conscious of my appearance and I make an effort not to allow my looks give me a false sense of ego. The combination of shisha and seductive melodies emboldened me. I cognitively ensured not to spend more than a few seconds on each face currently affording me attention and I actively prevented my lips from forming a smile or smirk of any kind. This however, made little difference because once the veil of my eyelashes parted to reveal those baby blues it was automatically perceived as an invitation. Adjusted seat positioning, puffing of chest, flexing biceps, fists tightening, and outright lip licking ensued. With the exception of those whose backs were to me who I attempted to focus my attention on if only to show my disinterest in the others.
A dark velvet jacket caught my eye hanging on the back of a chair not too far from me. The jet black hair of the man occupying the chair caught my attention and I indulged in staring at his head rather than engage the other eyes vying for my attention. He was clearly in superior physical condition, broad shoulders covered in a navy blue collared long sleeved shirt, jet-black hair. Creamy tan skin with high cheek bones were revealed when he turned his head slightly to the side after his fellow table-mates gave him the indicative head nod 'hey twelve o'clock bro' with no words actually exchanged. I retreated my gaze to my phone screen and shisha, re-crossed my legs and began scrolling through my emails. Bringing my left hand up to my face in a fist to cover my lips, I noticed something moving in front of me but didn't look up. My expectations were met as the stranger pulled out the chair across from me forcing me to make eye contact. Saying nothing he took his jacket off like he was there to stay, I tried to decipher his thoughts but was distracted by the impeccable bone structure of his chiseled face. Eyebrows raised as if surprised that he had invaded my solitude, he said nothing and sunk in to the chair. I started to undress him with my wandering eyes telling myself that he didn't notice me surveying him.
He crossed his legs, the waiter brought his shisha over to the table as if he were my welcomed guest and I couldn't look away. Earbuds still secure in my ears, soft sexy music was affecting my facial expressions and I unconsciously smiled but passed it off by taking another drag. He looked at me with certainty and I tilted my head downward resting my chin and lower lip on my fist, raised my eyebrow, and looked right back at him. Still no words, his eyes were wandering and undressing me. We visually fucked each other in silence exchanging blushing smiles and caressing the others skin with nothing but our eyes.
Our eye contact was only disturbed by the opaque flame-shaped smoke clouds from our shisha. I was lost to my music and he was fingering his shisha lay in a suggestive manner. His friends bore a hole in the back of his head and the front of mine, not able to decipher what was going down at our adjacent table. He only had eyes for me, and appeared to be unconcerned with creating a show for them, which only made him more attractive.
The cockiness of his approach was seductive. Very 'two strangers in a bar.' I unconsciously bit my bottom lip and revealed an open teeth smile and quickly shook my head. I folded my hands over one another, rested them in my lap over crossed legs, and leaned back in my wicker chair. Now with my full attention he uncrossed his legs leaned forward and rested his shisha lay across his lap. He extended his arm towards my face, grazed my right jawline to remove one earbud and then with the back of his fingers moved under my chin to the other side and removed the second set-staring deeply into my eyes to gauge my reaction as he did so. The move was subtle but made my abdomen lurch and my deep exhale onto the back of his hand made the hair on his wrist stand on end. His purple lips parted and he lowered the earbuds to the table, leaned back into his chair smiling, and resumed smoking his shisha still silent.
'The nerve of this guy,' I thought to myself, I brought my hand back up to support my face, resting my elbow on the glass table top and looked back at him expectantly waiting to hear his voice... nothing... he raised his chest slightly and slowly moved his gaze down my body. His hunger for me could not have been more obvious and I had to look away because I was not accustomed to being mentally undressed in such a manner-especially by a stranger who hadn't even introduced himself before being so forward. He cleared his throat, motioned to the waiter, and pointed at my tea with his index finger raised. A conciliatory nod meant this silent command was understood and the waiter hastened to fetch him the beverage returning almost too quickly as if he didn't want to miss the show.
When the tea arrived he ritually added two spoonfuls of sugar, stirred, and then brought it to rest on his bottom lip as he blew onto the surface to cool it down. The tip of tongue made contact with the liquid and lip of the cup before he drank and now I was the one staring at him. My guests had arrived at the entrance of the cafe and my heart plunged into my stomach as I nodded to them to come to the table. He noticed the three men coming closer and his expression faded. I stood to greet them with handshakes and half hugs as they pulled odd chairs over to join me and expectantly waited for me to introduce the stranger. He simply stood, moved in close to me, put his hand around my waist, softly rested his cheek on mine for a moment and whispered 'nice to meet you.' He released his palm from my lower back, and slung his jacket over his shoulders. Rather than returning to his table he went to cashier, paid for his drink and shisha, looked over his shoulder at me...smiled...and left.
The evening passed slowly after the odd questioning about the handsome stranger which forced me to make up a story. When the evening was wrapping up and I asked for my check the waiter brought the bill to my seat with the note 'paid in full,' from O.S. followed by phone number. The waiter was obviously tasked to deliver this end-of-evening surprise and delighted to be included in the exchange, he winked, gave a perfunctory bow and left the bill in my hand. I avoided the odd looks from my friends who prodded me like school boys for an explanation that I could not give.
The silent masculine act worked on me and I left planning my repose!
Published 12th Jan 2017
| Edited 19th Aug 2017
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