Story Post – First Part 'The Stranger and I'

He was older than me, that’s what I noticed first, probably not too far into his late twenties, but enough that the creases in his tanned face were starting to frame the eyes and disturb the smoothness of his forehead. Not that it didn’t suit him; his relaxed rugged expression showed little sign of worry or the impatience usually found on arriving after travel to find staff so ill-prepared. If anything he seemed as though he shrugged off mundane troubles like he flicked away his cigarette ash. His dreamily casual air had caught the attention of all present and as he turned to check his reflection in the wall mirror yet more curious staff hurried into the lobby to see for themselves the night visitor who had journeyed so far. They joined me in surveying his broad chest and solid shoulders under a creased black Gap t-shirt. They held back as he turned from his bags and the counter. I instinctively checked my wristwatch before peering hesitantly again.

This man was light of step but in a very masculine way and I wondered if he might play some kind of field sport. As he turned to the mirror I regarded his firm buttocks, no doubt held in place by some tight white CK’s. He lifted up a hairy arm and wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow. He did this with an easy movement so the sweat caught his muscled forearm and his wide palm brushed over the skin. If he’d had a bottle of water to drench his messy curls it’d perfectly complete the sportsman look, him languidly rinsing the dirt from his skin. When he moved his free hand to pat down some wayward dark hair I saw him smile amusedly to himself, and his eyes squinted slightly as he did so. As he regarded his face just a little bit closer he buried his hands in the pockets of his faded Levi’s, stood back on his heels for a moment, then whirled around to face me.

For just a second his fox-like brown eyes met mine and a second later mine were pressing hard into the wood of the computer desk. I breathed out and closed my eyes embarrassedly. It was force of habit for me to notice attractive guys, and more so for me to survey their chests, their arms, but especially their buttocks. I could appreciate the looks of many but this guy had made me look much closer. I had been enjoying the view and had stared unguardedly. I hated nothing more than social embarrassment and he must have seen me staring like some schoolgirl.

I dejectedly opened my eyes, cursing myself, but dared to look back up. What was it that now caused the counter girls to giggle so unashamedly? I listened for his voice; he was probably flirting without even trying. I drew my gaze up to see the window straight ahead and I tried to make out the reflected scene behind me. It was then that I felt a warm hand heavy on my right shoulder…


TO BE CONTINUED