Cold Feet

I look up at him as he stops beside me. He looks down at me and his lips part in a smile revealing sparkling white teeth. I give him the quick once over. He is wearing a grey suit and a white shirt that looks as if it’s been pressed by a steamroller. There is not a single crease on it. It’s immaculate. He wears a tie which looks black in the light. It’s the right length. His suit fits perfectly. It’s neither too big nor too tight for his toned frame. His shoes finish his outfit and they simply gleam as if they’ve been waxed and polished at a car wash.

My eyes meet his again. He is still smiling. I blush again like a little girl who has just been spoken to by her first high school crush.

“Hi. I’m Rick,” he says offering his hand. His voice is so calm yet masculine and firm.

And I am so wet. No man has ever had this effect on me.