Don't Mess With Me

It was the worst cappuccino she'd ever tasted. Not one to bottle up her displeasure, she made sure she told them, as succinctly as her nature and current mood allowed her to. 

Gia Savvas was not one to take any bullshit. Ask anyone who knew her. They could entertain you for hours with stories that would leave you either chuckling at her audacity or cringe at her blatant rudeness. But the message, that screamed out loud and clear after any story, was if you need anything done, talk to Gia. She would guarantee that you got a positive outcome.

I always wondered if she ever thought of doing things differently. If she had tried a different approach, like calm and polite instead of obnoxious and with no care what so ever for the other person's feelings. I mean, wouldn't it be a better for your blood pressure to approach any conflict, with a level head and with all the facts? Surely,  you can get your get your point across without coming across as a bully and being inconsiderate to the other person!

Like today, all Gia wanted was a half-strength medium cappuccino. What she got, tasted like hot milk with no coffee flavour at all. That's exactly what she told the barista.

She marched right up to the girl, thrust the coffee over the counter and said, "I asked for half strength cappuccino, not hot milk. If I wanted hot milk, I would have asked for it. If it's that hard to fathom how to make a half-strength coffee, then you're not the person for this job. How hard is it to make a half-strength coffee?"

Taken aback, the poor girl just stood there in shock for a moment. Before she could utter a single word to defend herself, the cafe manager appeared. He nudged her to the side. Ready to take on the irate customer before things got even more heated. After all, a happy customer is good for business. Right?

The manager had no chance. Gia was on a roll. He got steamrolled big time as Gia gave it to him with both barrels. It was her ringing phone that calmed the situation somewhat. Her focus shifted as she answered the call, speaking to whoever was on the other side, with animated hand movements. 

Taking advantage the situation, the manager instructed the barista to make another cup but to add more than half a shot of coffee. While it was being made, he kept one eye on Gia. He looked like he was praying that the call kept her occupied till the coffee was ready.

If he was praying, he was in luck. Just as he placed the freshly brewed coffee on the counter in front of Gia, she hung up. She gave him a look while she reached out for the coffee cup. Her gaze remained on the now nervous looking manager as she took a tentative sip. Still keeping him anchored by her look, she took another sip, before curtly thanking him. 

As she walked away towards me, as one, the manager and barista let out the breath they were holding and moved on to serve others with a smile. Gia and her attitude were pushed to the side, as they continued to serve the waiting customers. And when they had a break, they would relive the moment and vilify her till they felt better.

It was these mannerisms that drew me to Gia or rather her ability to achieve an outcome. I needed a solution to a long-standing issue. No matter how many times or however many different approaches I used, to solve the problem I had, there never seemed to be a resolution. So, I had approached her and over coffee asked for her help. She asked a lot of questions, got the facts and the bare bones of the situation and then agreed to help me out.

Within two weeks my problem was solved. I was happy and Gia got to unleash her displeasure, so in a way, she was happy too until the next time she was crossed!

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2017

All Rights Reserved.

No Regrets

"I think I want a tattoo." I blurted out while we lay there in sweaty post-coital bliss.

When silence greeted my announcement, it unnerved me. For the last two years, since we hooked up, John, always had something to say, be it a light-hearted joke or even a snide comment. Remaining silent was not his thing. So the silence unnerved me. Maybe the mind blowing sex caused him to black out? He'd fallen asleep perhaps?

Drawing what little energy I possessed, I turned my head and squinted up at his face. He was awake. His eyes focussed on a spot on the ceiling. His chest rose and fell quickly as he regained his breath after our wild ride. A ride so wonderfully satisfying that perhaps his ears were still ringing from all my yelling? Yup, all those 'oh God's' and 'harder' must have short-circuited his ability to take in anything I said. 

It could be the reason for his lack of response. So, I turned to my side and poked him. "Did you hear what I said?" I poked him again and repeated slowly, "I want a tattoo."

"Huh."

Huh? Was that all he could say? Agreed the sex had been spectacular but even so, his lack of commentary unsettled me.

I poked him again. Harder. And finally, I got a rise out of him as he swung round to face me, swearing and swatting my hand away.

"What the fuck! Quit with the poking you fuckhead! I heard you the first time."

"Well then, respond you dumb fuck! How the hell will I know if you heard me or not if you don't answer!" I yelled back in anger.

The sated and relaxed bliss of a few minutes ago, now morphed into a tense and angry state of affairs. Okay perhaps this wasn't the best time to broach such a topic, but common, I don't think I had done anything wrong. Or had I?

Was I wrong to blurt something totally random and ruin a lovely and tender moment between us? Surely not responding and calling me names was a bigger no-no?

"I was thinking!" he muttered.

"Thinking? About what?"

"About why you want to ruin your skin. You have beautiful skin. So smooth and silky!"

If his voice hadn't sounded disgruntled and pissed off, I would have totally melted at his words. Who was I kidding, I melted anyway.

He may not be all smooth and suave like other men, but he always says it how it is and never bullshits. Like the time I asked him if my bum looked big in a pair of new jeans, he said yes! Oh yes, he did! His answer stunned me stupid for a few seconds before I got ready to lay it on him. But before I could utter a word, he muttered something about how the alignment of the pockets made my arse appear large when it wasn't. That comment like this one fizzled all the anger out of me and made me all gooey and mushy inside.

I couldn't help but inch closer to him. His arm came around to hug me closer to him. After a moment's silence, I asked, "What about a small, cute and very feminine tatt."

This time, he grunted. Ah well, at least it wasn't silence. I let the one-sided conversation lapse as I listened to his heart beat and tangled my leg with his.

Lulled by his warmth, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of cute little tattoos.  Tattoos which then morphed into monsters as they grew and covered every inch of my beautiful, smooth and silky skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the days flew by, the idea of getting a tattoo would not dissipate.  I spent my spare time online, scrolling through pages upon pages of tattoos. I read up on the various techniques used and I even read a few stories of horror and regret.

After a few months of research, I knew what I wanted and where I wanted it. Armed with a collage of ideas, I set out to choose my preferred tattooist.

From a list of ten highly rated tattooist, I selected the one who I felt most comfortable with. His rough sketch at our first meeting captured the essence of what I wanted. I had no doubt he would transform a part of my skin into a piece of art and without any hesitation, I locked in a date. 

I still hadn't told anyone of my intentions. As much as I wanted to tell John and all my close friends, I also had this huge urge to keep silent about it. My friends were like John. From past conversations, I knew they would react in a negative manner. I would get no support from them, of that I was sure. I would just do it on my own and surprise them all.

Yup! That's what I would do, surprise them. It was a shame really as I would have loved to share the whole experience with someone. Getting a second opinion about the design work or even just to be there and hold my hand if the pain got too much.

Keeping it all quiet was a feat in itself! It helped that John had to travel for work a lot. His company was rolling out a new accounting software and the testing process along with the training saw him in a different city each week.  I felt terrible, but there was never a good time to spill the beans.  The few days he spent at home he spent re-charging and doing fuck all. In all honesty, it made it easy for me to hide my intentions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

D-day came around way too quickly. With equal emotions of excitement and trepidation, I made my way to the tattoo shop.

As I sat waiting on a plastic covered chair, I watched Greg, my tattooist, prepare his work area. His worktable including the tattoo gun was covered in plastic. Sudden visions of blood splatters everywhere and my lifeless, butchered body made me wish I hadn't been so secretive. Right about now, a friend to lean on and to re-assure me would have been nice.

Finally, Greg was all set. He had little pots of ink before him, an opened tub of vaseline and a variety of other bits and pieces. When he looked up at me, I gave him a shaky smile. He had already prepped my skin. He shaved the area, so it was free of any hair and applied the stencil. With his foot, he tested the tattoo gun, and the buzz made me jump.

"You ready?" he queried.

"Yup! As ready as I will ever be. Let's do this." I replied with false bravado.

"Okay. Here goes. Stay as still as possible. Understand?"

I nodded my head in response, grit my teeth, closed my eyes and tensed up all over.

"Relax a little and enjoy the experience."

That was easy for him to say. Apart from his face, it looked like his whole body  had intricate artwork. He obviously enjoyed the experience more than once! But as he did this for a living and seeing he had gone through the process many times himself, I tried to do as he requested. I didn't get far.  The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun as he started it again amped my fear. I locked up all over again.

When he actually started, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It felt like when a cat scratches you but only more painful. As he progressed, the vibrating needle felt like it was being dragged through my skin but the pain subsided or perhaps I got used to the sensation.

With my eyes now open and my body less tense, I watched Greg complete the outline. Standing to stretch his back, he asked if I needed a break. I said no and thus began the next stage, the shading.

He dipped the tattoo gun into various ink pots every so often and in no time, he was wiping the area clean. He then led me to a ceiling to floor mirror, and I had my first proper look at his masterpiece.

I was speechless. In silence and in awe, I scrutinised it from every angle. Though small, it was beautiful.  It looked so delicate and appeared to belong on my belly. I loved it! Absolutely loved it!

Greg started to talk about aftercare and I forced myself to focus on his words and not stare at my belly. When he was confident I understood what I needed to do, I went home eager to show off my butterflies.

Once I got home, I realised John was back. His schedule must have changed as I hadn't been expecting him for another two days. I now had butterflies in my belly. No seriously. I'm not talking about the new addition to my body but the ones fluttering inside. I was suddenly extremely nervous.

I paused when I saw John's smiling and relaxed face. My nerves stopped playing ping pong in my belly as calmness settled over me. I had no reason to be nervous. He may disapprove or feel I went behind his back, but it was my skin and if I wanted to mar it then so be it. He will have to live with it and so will I.

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2016

All Rights Reserved.

To Buy OR Not To Buy

I have a dilemma. A good friend has asked for my help and I can't say no. She wants to buy a property, and she needs me to put my name on the mortgage paperwork so she gets approved for a loan. By doing so, I am liable for part of the loan.

When she first approached me, I was more than happy to help out as a part of me wanted to make her lifelong dream of owning her own house a reality. But now, I have to put a stop to it.

What started out to be a small loan has now ballooned to half a million dollars. This is for a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city. And I will be liable for approximately one hundred thousand dollars. This is way, way more than what I am comfortable with. More so as she is over 65 years of age and is currently unemployed.

"Don't worry!" She says whenever I raise my concerns. "It is only for twelve months and then I will remove your name from the paperwork."

"But I can't help it. You should think of retirement. Your plan at this stage of your life is to retire or semi-retire if you want to keep working. The plan shouldn't involve blowing your hefty savings on a mortgage. At your age, you shouldn't be thinking of full-time work either. Don't you want to spend time with your grandchildren, friends and enjoy life?"

I could tell by her expression it wasn't worth the argument. I was wasting my breath. She had made up her mind.

A part of me hates her for putting me in such a position. Don't get me wrong, I want to help her, but for fucks sake, how about meeting me half way and not borrow half a million? Not only that, there would be implications for me too. It will impact me both financially and with the tax office. But from her expression and past conversations, she wants what she wants.

When she had first approached me with the request, my partner was in agreement. He thought, as did I, that she would have a small mortgage. It made so much more sense especially for her. But from the way this conversation was going, and the look in Marion's eyes, it remained clear I was wasting my breath. Just like the other dozen or so times. This situation also created tension at home and is another reason why I tried to get Marion to see some sense.

"Sam, I have it all worked out. I will be fine. There is other money coming my way. I just need you to sign that paperwork."

"What do you mean other money?" I queried, taking a deep breath to calm myself as my anger spiked. This was new.  I thought back to all our conversations, and not once was it mentioned. "How come you never mentioned this before? Surely, you would disclose this information to me? I do have a share in this albeit in name only."

"Don't worry. I will be fine. Sign the paperwork and in three months time, your name won't be on the paperwork."

We were going in circles! Like all the other times, this conversation would not go the way I want it to. She continued to ignore everything I said to her. I was getting seriously pissed off at her but at the same time, I felt guilty for my attitude especially as she saw it as being negative.

All these factors combined, made me lose sleep. My insomnia was at a record high. As a result, my work suffered, along with my interactions with other people, particularly with my partner.

I didn't know what else to do or say. Marion had just recently got into the habit of not listening to any words of caution. The minute she heard something positive, she clung to it like it was a lifeline and ignored everything else. 

Being positive is well and good. But when there is a lot at stake, such as a huge debt, her sanity and her welfare. I would not let her get into this with only half an eye open.

Letting the size of the loan slide to the side for the moment, I shifted my focus to another element of her promise. She first said twelve months, now suddenly it was three months? What was all that about? How come in a space of a few minutes, she is promising that I would be free from any obligations in three months?

Racking my brains, I couldn't discern how that would be the case. Was she going to come into even more money? And even if this extra money shaved off a good portion of the balance, she would have to prove to the mortgage provider of her ability to service the loan. Now, I was no finance expert but I am pretty sure that having a job goes a long way to prove that she can be the sole buyer.

"So, what will the process be in three months time?" I finally asked, unable to leave it alone. I had to ask. I had to get it clear in my head and hers so that there were no surprises down the road.

"I will get your name removed. It might even happen in just a months time." She promptly responded.

"I don't understand how. Can you explain the process?"

I could see she was struggling to explain as she got more and more flustered. Finally, she gave up and asked me to talk to Brad. 

I would do just that and made a mental note to make an appointment to talk to her Financial Consultant. I needed to get clear answers. The way Marion was talking, everything was rosy and easy but my gut and past experiences told me otherwise.

My ringing phone and subsequent dash out the door to pick up my son from the train station ended the conversation. Once I had a bit more information, I would hash this out with her. Again! She had to understand what she was getting into and stop living in fairyland.

My chat with Brad cleared the air somewhat. It wasn't as easy peasy as Marion had made it out to be. As I suspected, she had to prove that she could service the loan. To do that, she had to have a full-time job and show evidence she would not be living on air. She would have to provide three months worth of payslips to prove her ability to service the loan. If the mortgage company did not like what they saw, it would take longer before she became a sole owner. Which made one year more realistic than the three months and it would definitely not happen in a months time.

There were other factors I, as an investor, would have to take into account. But I had enough information and facts to talk to her again. And I did. I made her cry, but she said nothing negative. She muttered, at one point, that she just wanted to own a house. Hearing that, I felt guilty all over again. I know I was doing the right thing, but I couldn't help feeling like I was letting her down.

So now, she has also made peace with the fact that she might never own her own property. She is hoping to work part-time as full time retirement is not for her. A part of her is also on the look out for a property with a smaller mortgage. Hopefully, she finds something soon and ends up fulfilling her dream.  

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2016

All Rights Reserved.

Photo from: Images_of_Money

I'm Hank Marvin (Starving)

The smell of grilled meat permeated the air. The aromatic marinades, enhanced by the smoky scent made my mouth water and my stomach rumble. It wasn't a small, quiet sound, this rumble had no intention of ever stopping... or being quiet.

I placed my hand over the embarrassing noises, merrily churning out, applying pressure, but it did nothing. Absolutely nothing!

I had hoped that the pressure of my hand, combined with the clenched stomach muscles, would stop the sound, but it was to no avail. The rumbles continued. One rolling into the next and with each new rumble, I swear, the volume got louder.

Shit! I sensed myself turn red. It felt like the whole street stared at me. But I refused to investigate. I mentally berated myself for not sparing five minutes to eat something... anything, like the apple sitting on my desk at work.

As much as I hoped that no-one had heard the off-key symphony, the rustling of a bag, right behind me, put a downer on that thought. Somehow, I knew that the rustling bag had to do with me.

What if they placed it over my head to shut me up?

Before I let that thought fester, a gnarly hand shot out, holding a bread roll. Mortified, the heat in my face intensified further. Fuck! 

One thing was clear, silence by suffocation wasn't on the cards today. But if the bread roll was anything to go by, everyone had got a load of the ruckus. How could they not hear? It was impossible to miss as it sounded like a train approaching a crossing or the station.

For a moment, I contemplated running away from the situation. If I ran a few blocks down, I might still catch my bus? Who was I kidding? I was as fit as a rock heading to the bottom of the sea. As much as I wanted to walk away from the embarrassing situation, the hour long wait for the next bus curbed any other crazy ideas.

The roll drew my attention again. It was hard not to miss such an offering. If anything, my stomach acknowledged it with another loud drawn-out rumble. Hunching over further, I tightened my already clenched muscles, all the while screaming silently to myself to shut the fuck up. I don't know why I even bothered to do that as it had no impact whatsoever.

I willed my eyes to focus anywhere but at the tempting morsel, focussing instead on the hand, as gaping at the food encouraged my belly to sing loudly, for it wanted a taste. The skin on the hand appeared transparent, making the blood vessels stand out like a road map. A map that led you through the many wrinkles, discolouration, right to the bread roll. The whole hand appeared old and tired, but the roll looked fresh and scrumptious.

The roll shook before my eyes.

Or was that my vision, or my hunger making me see things? Nope, the roll continued to move in an up-down motion as if to say, "Take it and stop making such a racket!"

Something prodded me in my back. As the 'prode' appeared to be in in sync with the motion of the hand, I assumed it was the same person, urging me to take the offering. Before the surrounding people decided to knock me to the ground and forcefully feed me, I reached out and took it, muttering my thanks.

Another loud rumble, followed by another sharp poke, made me abandon any further acknowledgement of thanks in favour of stuffing the roll into my mouth. Mouth full, face red, I chewed furiously, trying to get something down to appease my angry stomach.

A few seconds later, my bus arrived. Thank God! I couldn't wait to get away. As I got on, swiped my card and found a seat, I noted that no-one else got on which prompted me to glance out the window.

I expected to see a huge crowd but instead, only one other person stood at the stop. An old woman. Her snow white hair bowed down as she hunched over her walking frame holding a bag of rolls. As the bus began to pull away, she looked up and straight at me, her weathered face lit up with a smile. Her eyes kept mine captive for a moment and I raised my hand to wave.  The bus turned left, breaking my contact with her as she disappeared from sight.

The next day, I stood at the same bus stop holding a bag of rolls. I arrived early and waited for the woman to show up. She didn't. I waited for her every day for a month, but she didn't show up. Instead, each day, as I saw my bus approach, I took out a roll and snacked on it all the way home. 

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2015

All Rights Reserved.

Dealing with Mr F*ckwit!

Anyone who has worked in an office is familiar with self-important people. Such people  want everything but seldom give anything back. In fact, these people are everywhere and not just in an office environment. It is want, want, want with them. They are quick malign a person's credibility and whine and complain about how unfair the system is being to them.

My workplace is no different. It is full of self-important people. There is one, in particular, who brings out the worst in me and others. Let me tell you one thing, I am the most placid person on earth generally looking for the best in any bad situation or person and most times, I try to justify their behaviour. So for me to want to want to slowly and painfully torture someone is huge and Anthony, is one person, who can bring me to the brink of murder within two minutes of talking to him.

Let me tell you a little bit about Anthony. He is of European descent and is egotistical, opinionated, overly critical, never wrong and the biggest gossip in the department. He has to be aware of every little thing. When he doesn't get what he wants, he is sarcastic and rude.

Any conversation with him generally revolves around sports, food and gossip. He has his funny moments too, saying such outrageous things, that you can't help but laugh. But, his mood changes so quickly that you are in danger of getting whiplash! When stressed, you get to see him at his worst. He can't handle pressure making it a challenge to work with him. 

When he is at his worst, his rudeness is off the charts. He is aggressive, in your face and doesn't hesitate to swear at people but only at people who aren't managers or even supervisors. So much for professional conduct at work! 

To make things worse, he is a manager. A senior leader of the company. Isn't a leader meant to inspire and connect with his team and help them fulfil their potential? Does he do all that? Absolutely not! The word on the floor is that he is one arrogant prick who has anger management issues.

Whenever I get together with my friends, they always ask me for Anthony stories. After the first few times, I thought they would get bored hearing about him — same attitude but different scenario — but they proved me wrong. And did I have a beauty for them when we caught up this Saturday! At the moment, it didn't seem like a good story. It felt like a huge rock sitting heavy on my chest.

The whole incident came about when I emailed a request to the team to purchase an item. I used the process I had been following for the last couple of years. Two days later, I got an email response stating that I need to raise the request via the system and that Anthony would show me the new process.

A couple of hours later, Anthony saunters into my office. With his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, he stood there and grunted once, twice, in a bid to get my attention. He then walked further into the room till he could see what I was working on. Not bothering to greet me or apologise for barging in, he blurted out, "So you need to do purchase order requests from now on. Not my team. You."

My stunned look of disbelief at his attitude and his non-existent explanation as to why the process had changed, did nothing to detract him from his monologue as he went on to say, "Open up the program and I will show you what you need to do."

"Now wait a minute Anthony, what do you mean I have to do it?" I blurted out. "All other departments have a designated officer so how come I don't get that same support?" I needed to know what I had done wrong or when the process had changed. I didn't recall coming across a memo advising of the change.

He shrugged as if to imply that he didn't care to explain himself, but I waited him out, one eyebrow raised in query.

"You just have to! Now open up the program." He commanded.

"Now what sort of answer is that? What brought about the change of process, a process that has been working for the last few years. And, I was in the middle of something very urgent." I said, making a point of highlighting his rudeness.

As I looked up at him from my seat, I took in his scowl. This whole encounter was going to get unpleasant.

"It is what it is and you just have to follow the new process. Everyone else is, so I don't see what your fucking problem is."

Each word uttered were like bullets, rapidly fired out with loud aggression, shredding holes in me. Great! Now everyone will think that I am being passive aggressive or that I had done something wrong. I did not stop and consider that they were thinking that he was a fuckwit for the way he was presenting himself.

Silently cursing myself for submitting to his wishes, I clicked on the program in question.

"If it's not going to take long, show me what I need to do." I replied in a level and calm voice. I was anything but. My inner boil was on and I could feel myself getting angry at his high-handedness and at his behaviour.

The next ten minutes did nothing to calm me. He was all over the place. Did he even know how to use the system? He clicked on one thing, then went to another as he tried to find the right screen, the right options.

I stopped listening to him and made a mental note, to check with others and with his manager to see what the process actually was. Not only was he wasting my time as he tried to figure out where I needed to go and what I needed to do, he was confusing me with contradicting instructions. I had to put a stop to all this; I couldn't take any more.

"Anthony, stop! You are confusing me. Have you any experience with the system?"

"Of course I fucking have." His demeanour was defensive and very aggressive. "You can't proceed with this anyway as the supplier is not in the fucking system. Get them added in and then we will talk. Fucking waste of time this was."

What the fuck! The nerve of the man. The bid to stay calm was now an uphill battle. And I was losing the battle.

"Okay..." I said stretching the word out, barely hanging onto my calm. "As I am not in accounts or in logistics, I don't know what the process is to add a supplier into the system. In the past, I left it to your team to organise and sort out. But now that the process has changed. I am now meant to be involved in every single step, so don't give me attitude and expect me to grasp things straight away."

"Do I have to fucking hold your hand the whole way through? You have been here long enough to realise that the suppliers have to be in the fucking system before we can purchase anything from them."

"Yes, I am aware of all that, but..."

"But what? You fucking go to accounts and give them the fucking details and they set it up. Once you have done that, send me a meeting request and we will continue this."

With that, he was out the door, storming back to his hole all the while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'fucking moron' or was it 'fucking bitch'?

No way was I going back for more. Not after that. He could go shove his dick up his arse for all I cared. I would get my training through other means even if it meant that I sacrificed what little precious time I had to teach myself the software.

Thankfully, there was no need for any self-tutoring. Once the accounts team confirmed that the supplier details were in the system, I spoke to the accounts manager to better understand the different codes required to complete my request. He was kind enough to come to my office and talk me through the process. It took barely three minutes of my time now that I understood the process. After I successfully submitted my first request, I had this childish urge to walk by Anthony's office and flip him the bird.

A few hours later, I found out from the department's gossip queens, that his manager had overheard his diatribe and issued a final warning notice. I also found out that the process had changed giving every single person within the company the ability to raise purchase order requests.

I went on holiday two days later, putting Anthony and the whole incident behind me. When I got back a three weeks later, the inter-office gossipers were quick to tell me all about Anthony's transfer to another department. Apparently, the transfer had shaken him and brought him down a peg or two. The rumours circulating, indicated that he was struggling to find another job so for the moment, he was behaving himself and watching his language. 

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2015

All Rights Reserved.

I Have To Tell You Something, Confess A Little Secret...

When Michele's gaze falls on a stranger on the street, she is gripped with an overwhelming desire to meet him. But it was not to be and that brief sighting causes her to obsess over him. A couple of years later, she decides to take control of her life and forever banish all thoughts of the stranger from her mind. She goes on a blind date, but before she can find her date, she sees him, the stranger...

I have to tell you something, confess a little secret — I have had my eyes on you.

I am sure it was your smile that first caught my eye. That flash of dazzling, roguish sexiness snared my attention and the rest of you... oh my! Your tall strong body, tanned skin, firm and strong jaw not to mention those wicked lips all commanded my attention.

I tried to follow you. Tried to keep you in my line of sight, but I was too slow. Your long stride, the surrounding crowd and the steady stream of cars all hindered my attempts. I prayed for a break in the traffic allowing me to run to your side of the sidewalk. I even wished, with everything in me, that the crowds would disperse or you realised you were walking in the wrong direction. My only desire at that point in time was to get closer to you so I could adore you, welcome your gaze on me and explore the sensations of your touch on me. But it was not to be.

You were with me all day long as I could not banish you from my thoughts. That smile of yours was the last thing I saw when I closed my eyes that night, and when I woke up, the next morning, I thought of you.

Unable to shake you from my thoughts, I knew I had to see you again and found myself loitering on the street where I had caught sight of you.

I scrutinised every person and earned a few weird looks for my efforts. I didn’t care. Regardless, I still checked every person who walked by, knowing it was unnecessary, but I worried that by not doing so, I would miss catching sight of you.

You had stood out from the crowd that day. Your height, the purpose in your stride, the hidden strength in your body, drew me in like a beacon allowing me to follow you until you disappeared. Your presence that day made me buzz with awareness and feel alive.

This urge to catch a glimpse of you one more time was compelling. Perhaps I could move on after looking at you one more time?

Much to my disappointment, you did not show up and staying on the sidewalk, waiting for you to appear was not an option. I had to get on with my life and stop this stalker-like behaviour. I looked at the spot where I noticed you one last time and then walked away with a heavy heart.

As the weeks passed, I forced myself not to walk down that street. The weeks turned into months and you became a memory. But not forgotten. Work kept me busy, my family kept me busy and I let you slip deeper into my memory cache.

The last couple of years has been good. I own and manage a successful event planning business and my social life is bursting at the seams. Things such as paperwork, exercise and sleep consumed what little spare time I had. My life was great.

My family despaired with my non-existent relationship status and went on and on about it till they were blue in the face. It’s not like I did not date. I did. I gave it a shot. More than once but there had been no connection, no spark. If they were not self-absorbed, they bored me, or they did not have the same values as me. Am I being picky? I don’t believe so, but my family did.

I still thought of the man I saw a few years ago. Lately, though, I thought of him more often than I would have liked. Perhaps my subconscious was telling me I needed a significant other even though my head denied it? My inner circle, if they knew, would agree and try to fix me up with someone. Again!

The memory of that moment when I glimpsed him fleetingly pops out from the deep recesses of my mind. It doesn’t linger long, perhaps a second or two, but it always leaves me aching and wanting something more. The more I thought of him, the more I ached for companionship.

Like today. His face was so clear, even after all this time. What threw me were the emotions that gripped me as they left me listless for the rest of the day. These same emotions had me driving to the street where I caught sight of him, instead of heading home.

I felt stupid. But I could no longer back out as the moment I turned onto the street, I came to a forced standstill. The traffic was dreadful, with cars crawling at a pace slower than a snail. Fuck! Why did I have to have this compulsion to drive down this street now?

Frustrated with myself, I attempted to focus on the next event as I went through my mental checklist. I felt a little less guilty for wasting this time. Plus, it distracted me from the traffic chaos.

Suspecting that I was missing something important, I stretched over to the back seat to get my tablet to double check my lists when a long and angry blast of a car horn made me jerk back to an upright position. My head swung towards the sound. Was I in the wrong? Blocking someone? About to hit another car?

No, not at me, but at a sleek, all black Range Rover as it attempted to merge with the traffic. The car in front of me had taken offence and along with the horn, had flipped the bird. At our current pace, letting another car merge would not have slowed us down any further. What a dickhead!

As the car in front of me inched forward, I stayed where I was to let the Range Rover merge. It took a good few minutes for it to merge and in those few minutes, the back passenger door opened, and a man stepped out.

A delicious looking man. A man who caused me to stop breathing. Who made me feel instantly alive, caused my heart to race and made my body tingle all over in a good way. I hadn’t experienced these emotions in a while. The last time had been when I saw that stranger, two years ago. The same stranger who had just stepped out of the car. It was him!

My eyes greedily followed him as he walked towards a building. When he went inside, I started to breathe again.

Not realising it, I placed the car into park mode. One hand reached over to turn the ignition off while the other hand moved to open the door. My brain finally caught up, and I froze mid-action.

What was I doing? I couldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and follow a man, a stranger into a building not knowing where he would have gone. Besides this behaviour wasn’t me. I did not rush into a situation without thinking it through. It was foolhardy behaviour.

What if I pretended that I had broken down? As quickly as that thought crossed my mind, I discarded it. The ensuing implications would be a nightmare. Not only would I have to deal with the already aggravated drivers, it would be just my luck if a good samaritan came to my aid and found nothing wrong with my car.

A car sounding its horn behind me brought me back to my surroundings and all thoughts of leaving my car to look for him went out the window. Traffic was on the move and it was time to move twenty metres forward. With a heavy heart, I did just that.

Once again, we came to a standstill. I turned to look at the building again knowing deep down I would be back. The rational side of me told me to give it a rest and to stop acting like a loser. The other part of me bowed to the demands of my body, vowing to find him again, talk to him and touch him. Maybe then I could let go of whatever held me captivated and enthralled with him.

Despondently, I inched forward a few more metres, following the sleek Range Rover in front of me. I continued to dwell on the man and my neurotic behaviour when it came to him.

After all these years, the mere sight of him triggered all these dormant emotions within me. Consumed me with an intensity which took over all my rational behaviour.

Why? Why him? What was it about him that drew me in and spoilt me for any other men? I found them all lacking in one way or the other. Was my subconscious comparing them with this man? What though?

I didn’t know what he sounded like or what made him tick? Neither did I know if he was a nice man or a brute? What I did know is when I looked at him, I was alive. Every inch of me is like a live wire, charged with electricity, making me tingle and yearn.

Caught up in such thoughts, I vaguely took in a figure striding with purpose towards the now moving stream of cars. As he got closer, every part of me went on alert! He kept pace with the still slow-moving traffic. When his car stopped, he crossed the short distance with long strides, before disappearing into the back seat.

Eyes glued to where I imagined he was sitting, I tried to make out his profile through the tinted windows of his car. I got nothing for all my squinting and peering. The cars were now moving at a quicker pace. Fearful of losing him, I trailed behind until we were out of the jam and kept on his tail, following him to where ever he was going.

Twenty minutes later, his car came to a standstill outside an apartment building. As there was no place for me to pull over, I drove by slowly. Keeping one eye on my review mirror, I watched my stranger step out, with a briefcase in his hand, nod to the doorman before he disappeared. As the hour was late, I assumed that he lived here. His familiarity with the doorman solidified my assumption. I refused to presume anything else such as he was visiting a friend, girlfriend or family.

Coming to a stop at a red light, my body sagged in tiredness. I had been awake for over seventeen hours and I needed rest. I berated myself for my foolish behaviour. A successful woman, or any women, did not stalk men all over the city. No, they did not.

I berated myself all the way home. This was not living. It was senseless of me to putt my life on hold for a stranger who I had now seen twice. The only way, I could get on with my life was to go on a date. With that in mind, I decided to take Patty up on her offer and meet her husband’s distant relative.

Patty, one of my good friends, had been irksome in her attempts to set me up with him for a while. Each time, I had an excuse. So when I called her to ask her to set up the date, her scream of excitement deafened me.

Her assurances of me loving this guy, at first sight, was unquestionably over the top. I put any reservations I had aside and promised instead to give him a chance. Before she made me promise to marry him, I ended the call leaving her to make the arrangements. God help me!

A few weeks later, saw me getting ready for my date with Daniel. We were to meet at a wine bar a few blocks from my place. Deciding to walk to the wine bar, my thoughts automatically settled on my stranger. Thinking about him before a date, was a definite no-no. I was just torturing myself with the unattainable and that was not on. Thus pre-occupied, I got to the bar in no time at all. I walked inside and the first thing I notice sitting facing the door was my stranger.

What the fuck! What was he doing here?

I panicked. I had a plan. A plan, that involved me moving on with my life and not dwell on this man. His presence here, at this bar, made a mockery of this plan. Poor Daniel stood no chance. Dammit, I had a plan, and this man was spoiling it for me.

The door behind swung open. Someone jostled me, pushing me forward, making me realise that I had been blocking the door. I moved out of the way, willing my eyes away from my stranger to scan the rest of the room. I hoped with everything in me that Daniel was here so I could suggest we go to the restaurant across the street. Anywhere else but here.

Not knowing what Daniel looked like, I scanned the room again, this time looking for a man wearing a black jacket with a red handkerchief in his breast pocket. To make it easy for the both of us, I too had a red handkerchief half tucked into my jacket pocket.

Wait a minute! My scan of the room came to an abrupt stop. My head swivelled towards my stranger — he had a red handkerchief in his black breast pocket and he was heading my way.

My body began to overheat as he got closer. His stride was as I remembered, and it quickly ate up the short distance between us.

In no time, he stood before me, looking down at me from his great height. With his head cocked ever so slightly, he queried in a deep, orgasm-worthy drawl, “Michele?”

Oh boy! The man of my dreams had been waiting for me. He was my blind date. Elated, I cursed myself for not agreeing to meet Daniel when Patty first mentioned him eighteen months ago.

I locked my knees. Took a deep but subtle breath and grounded myself. “Daniel?” I queried on a shaky breath.

Remembering my manners, I took another deep breath and stuck my hand out.

It turned out to be a big mistake. I forgot to breathe all over again once his large, warm hand engulfed mine. I was finally touching him if the electricity shooting up my arm to the rest of my body was any sign!

I was in big trouble. Up close he was a breathtakingly handsome. Over six feet of hard muscle, with thick brown hair and blue eyes that seemed to look deep into my soul. He was superbly spectacular.

As I looked up into his eyes, the blue darkened a fraction. Was he feeling whatever this was between us too?

His grip on my hand tightened a fraction before he released my hand and gestured towards the table he had been sitting at. He said something, but for everything I hold dear, I have no recollection what that might have been. By the time, we got to the table I had pulled myself together.

We spent a lovely evening getting to know each other. The conversation flowed and time flew by. Patrons of the wine bar came and went, but we didn’t notice.

“I feel as if I have known you all my life.” I blurted out during a small lull in the conversation.

“Funny you should say that as I was just thinking the same thing. You are very stunning and interesting woman.”

“Why thank you. You are alright too.” I responded with a smile.

“You wound me. Just alright? Common, surely I rate a little higher than that?”

Laughing I shook my head. “Fishing for compliments will get you nowhere. But, as you have put up with me for the last few hours, I will add that you are very easy to talk to.”

He shook his head at my cheeky smile. “It seems I have my work cut out for me. I guess I have to up the ante on my charm-o-meter.”

“Charm-o-meter? Really? Who says charm-o-meter these days! You need help!”

The ringtone from my phone put a stop to our banter. I had ignored a call earlier that evening, but, seeing the same name appear on the display screen forced me to answer.

“It’s Patty again. I better answer this or else she might do something embarrassing.”

“Yes, you better. I think I have just as many missed calls from her as you do. Just tell her I am kidnapping you.” He responded with a wink.

Laughing, I accepted the call, reassured Patty that we were getting along famously. Once I hung up, the lateness of the evening, the long day all caught up with me and I could not stifle my yawn.

“It’s getting late, and I have taken up your whole evening, I do apologise.” Daniel voiced as he took in my yawn and tiredness.

“No need to apologise. I could go on all night but yes, I am tired. It has been one of those days.”

As much as I hated for the evening to end, especially as I was with the man from my dreams, I had to give in to the demands of my body. I hated that I could not keep going, but if the glint in his eyes and his body language was any indication, there would be a next time.

Standing, I held out my hand to him. His warm hand engulfed mine and after giving it a gentle squeeze he stood too. Settling our tab, Daniel insisted on walking me home our banter continuing all the way home. The closer we got, the age-old dilemma gripped me, should I invite him in?

At my doorstep, Daniel leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss.

Though gentle, and brief, the kiss ignited every nerve cell within my body. I wanted to pull him closer, wanted to thrust my fingers into his hair and hold him while I devoured him. I barely restrained myself, letting him step back.

He looked at me with such intensity which saw me on the verge of inviting him in to explore this intensity between us. But, before I could utter a word, he took another step back.

“It has been a delightful evening, Michele. I hope you don’t think I am being forward and I know that I am breaking some first date rule, but I would like to see you again. So what do you say to tomorrow?”

He reached out and gently caressed my cheek and I nodded in agreement.

Taking another step back, he said, “Go on inside. I will be in touch with the details tomorrow morning.”

As I shut the door, I blew him a kiss, chuckling when he leapt into the air as if to catch it. With a big grin on my face, I closed the door, already looking forward to tomorrow.

That was the start of our romance and over the coming months, our passion for each other blossomed and strengthened.

I had one secret though, and it was wrong of me to keep things from him. The prospect of coming clean scared me. Scared that he would think, I manipulated the whole situation. Regardless of my fear, I had to come clean and, to be honest, there never would be a good time.

That time came a few months into our relationship. As he had been travelling non-stop for the last couple of weeks, we decided to meet at his apartment. Which was fine with me as I was not in the mood to share him with anyone else and though we spoke to each other every day, it was not the same.

On the way over, I nearly talked my way out of telling him my secret. He sounded tired and the last thing he needed was me to drop a bombshell in his lap.

His exuberant and body tingling kiss the minute I walked through the door, nearly changed my mind. His wandering hands left me hot and bothered. The ferocity of his kiss, the hardness of his body pressed against mine turned my body to mush and incoherent. I forgot what I wanted to tell him as he swept me into an all-consuming inferno which left my body shaking violently after we climaxed together.

Later, much later after we showered and sat down to eat our re-heated dinner, I found the courage to tell him. Confess my secret about when I spotted him years ago, the compulsion to meet him, the subsequent attempt at stalking, and finding myself in a limbo until I agreed to a blind date.

He took it well and didn’t freak out. Much to my relief. Now years later, I am still with the man of my dreams, the love of my life and the father to out twin boys.

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2015

All Rights Reserved.

Pages: 1 2 3 4

The Things I Do In The Name of Friendship

I knew I shouldn't have answered that last call. If I had ignored it, I'd be lying on the couch watching re-runs of Seinfeld and not find myself coerced to nearly killing myself.

Seeing Dani's name on the screen, when my phone rang, would normally put me on high alert and I would answer or not answer her calls depending on what she had scheming at the time. Every time she needs a favour, I find it very hard to say no to her. She is one of my best friends and she knows me far too well. She knows exactly which buttons to push and when to back off. I know that in this instance, she would have kept calling and sending me text messages, pestering me until I agreed to whatever she wanted. 

In hindsight, I should have ignored the call and dealt with her via a text message. It would have been far easier to turn her down by a text message rather than listen to her hypnotise a "Yes, sure, I'll be there!" out of me. 

So here I am, decked out in my exercise gear and armed with my water bottle and a towel ready to be a good and supportive friend.

I am sure Dani is under the illusion that I am somewhat fit. Why else would she keep want me to sweat it out with her? She couldn't be so far away from the truth. My idea of fitness is to go for a twenty-minute jog once a week and squeeze a walk or two around the block during my lunch break. That's it! If it rained, there was no making up for it on another day, which just showed how dedicated I am. 

Now Michael, another close friend of ours, would have been ideal. He lifts weights, runs every other day, eats right and whenever he is idle, he stretches. The first time I saw him drop into a lunge, I stopped mid-sentence and gaped at him. What the fuck! He had laughed at me and told me to carry on as he switched legs and went on to stretch every muscle in his body. Talk about weird!

"Thanks, Leah! I struggle to do this on my own. Having you here, is such a big help. You should see the instructor. He is totally drool-worthy." Dani enthused from the other side of her open garage, bringing me back to the present and my focus back to what I was about to put myself through.

"I still don't understand why me and not Michael?" I couldn't help but whine a bit more. There were a million other things that needed my attention, but I didn't think she would have let me back out now even if I had the best excuse ever.

"Leeeah! Don't be like that. Trust me this will be fun and Michael... I love him to bits, but you know how he is like with this sort of stuff."

"I am not being anything. Just pointing out that he would be a better choice. He will go all drill sergeant on you and you will end up being just as fit and sculpted as he is." I replied attempting once again to get her to see reason, but I knew I was wasting my breath and energy arguing with her.

"I want to do this with you so shush with the complaining."

I shut up. There was no use. Once she set her sights on what she wanted, nothing would change her mind. As much as I loved her, her stubbornness was the one trait that annoyed the fuck out of me.

With the laptop placed on top of one of the garbage bins, Dani started the video. As the introductory music played, she skipped over to my side to give me a hug, thump me on my back before heading to her floor mat to follow the instructions the hunk on the screen was issuing. 

The hunk was not alone. Super fit and toned people surrounded him. The women had tiny sports bras and leggings showing of enviable bodies while the men, had shorts on leaving their upper body bare and yes, they were all pretty hot to look at. 

My immobility earned a glare from Dani. Crap! There was no way I could back out now and with that thought in my head, I started jogging on the spot before easing into jumping jacks.

I wish I had it in me to be deceptive, perhaps fake an injury or something. But it would not work as I would have to remember what I had injured, answer the million questions Dani would throw my way, her concern for my welfare would magnify my guilt and that would be my downfall. I would get caught out. No, there was no backing out now. I just had to get through this with some enthusiasm and a whole lot of energy. However, words such as 'push through', ' dig deeper' amongst others, did little to enthuse me. What the fuck did I agree to?

The first iteration of the warm up was hard. The second iteration just about killed me. At the start of the third, according to super hunk instructor, we had to push ourselves beyond the pain and exhaustion as it was no longer a warm up. Fuck! I was ready to collapse. How an earth did he expect me to push myself any further?

Ten minutes later, the warm up was officially over. The hunk on screen, took off his shirt, flashing his ripped and toned body. His body put the others around him to shame. Wow! Dani was right, he was drool-worthy and a part of my functioning, pain-free body appreciated and took note of his rippling muscles. 

The other part of me cursed him. Even though only ten minutes had passed, I was drenched, my towel saturated, my shirt plastered to my back and my hair was wet! My legs felt like jelly and I still had forty-five minutes more of this to go through. Oh god, kill me now! 

We had eight seconds to hydrate ourselves and as he energetically counted down, I guzzled water, nearly drowning myself in the process. With evil Dani watching me like a hawk, I got back into position for the post warm up stretching. Forty minutes later, saw both of us, bent over, trying to get our breathing back. Oh my goodness! What did we just go through? 

The next five minutes of stretching also involved listening to the master of torture go on and on about how looking good, eating healthy, pushing through the pain was so good for you. Yeah, I get all that, but right about now, I just wished he would shut the fuck up!

I wanted a shower, a cold bucket of water to drink and to lie down and sympathise with my poor, sore muscles. I got the water though it was not the bucket I was envisaging. I also got to lie down on the floor matt, closing my eyes, letting my body relax.

"Common lazy bones, we have one more to do."

My eyes flew open at Dani's comment. What! No way! One more? Fuck!

Groaning, I lifted my head and squinted at her with one eye firmly shut. She looked and sounded so perky, so energetic and in my head, she began to resemble the devil.

"What do you mean one more?" I finally queried as I struggled to get my body to a seated position. Ouch! My abs were already sore. "We had a deal, and I fulfilled it, so what do you mean by one more?"

I could feel myself getting hysterical. If I had to do what we just did again, I wouldn't be able to walk or talk. Calling for an ambulance to cart me away would be a highly probably next course of action. Hearing a giggle, my head swung round to look at Dani. Was she losing it too? Was she yanking my chain?

"Calm down, you will enjoy this one. It is only stretching which we need to do."

"But we did stretch!" I wailed in despair. "What was that we did towards the end of that torture video?"

"Yea, that's stretching, however, this is stretching. Now get ready, it is about to start."

"I don't get the difference between one set of stretching and this." I groused further, not getting up after seeing her sit cross-legged on her mat. Like a good friend, I turned my attention to the laptop screen and groaned at the calm and soothing voice of a yoga instructor. Yoga... seriously!

"Leah, I can feel you glaring at me. Now be a sport, your body will thank me tomorrow." Saying that she began the neck rolls, breathing in and out in time to the directions.

I could easily get up, grab my things and walk out. Why didn't I? Why on earth, didn't I refuse to do this? So, I am a sucker for punishment and I can't say no. Maybe Dani, is right and the yoga will ease the soreness but after this, I decided that I would put my foot down to any more of her suggestions. Enough already!

An hour later, I was ready to kill her and going into the corpse pose did nothing to diminish this urge. Dani was right about one thing, this form of stretching was way different from the other form of stretching — this was torture stretching! Try standing on your left leg, with your right leg up straight up in the air along with your right hand and hold that position for a while but at the same time, pulling your body in opposite directions to maximise the intensity and the stretch. Yup! You got it —  torture stretching.

The minute the dulcet voice stated that it was the end of the session, I scrambled up from the mat. Grabbed my now empty water bottle, drenched towel and headed inside for my bag. I was getting out of here before Dani decided she wanted to do another program to 'relax' any muscles.

I was back out in less than a minute. Walking as fast as my shaking legs would allow me, I escaped to the safety of my car, locking the doors just in case crazy demonic Dani dragged me out.

Once safely inside my locked car, I tooted my horn in farewell. She yelled out something, but I refused to look in her direction as I drove by. From the corner of my eye, I could see her laughing at my hasty escape. Her gay wave, did nothing to ease my urge to kill her, neither did the long soak in the tub. But, to be honest, I actually felt good once I got out of the bath and felt energised enough to cook myself a meal and tackle my bills. The biggest positive to all this was that I slept like the dead.

The next morning was a different story! Every single muscle in my body screamed in protest. After another quick soak in the tub, I hobbled through the rest of the day and went back to cursing Dani. She called to compare her soreness to mine, scoffed at my insults and even came by at lunchtime with a slice of berry cheesecake. If this was her attempt to placate me by gifting me with the largest slice of my favourite cake, she succeeded. Irrespective of her peace offering, I was steering away from her crazy exercise programs.

Was I successful? To some extent yes as I reluctantly agreed to do one session a week, no more.

Copyright Tia J. Lee 2015

All Rights Reserved.

Photo: Stefano Oppo - Getty Images