Sorry: today it will be a little extract of a Short Story from me

I met Her on the metro. She was going to the University. I was there for a Conference.

My seminar was set to take place at 11, at the Engineering department. The talk I was asked to give was about the frontiers of Nanotechnology at the light the new findings in Solid State Physics. Over the years the time gap between new discoveries and their applications have progressively shrunk to the point of being barely non existent. Big companies knew that and I knew that too. In order to have funds for the research, maths, and physics I was interested to do I needed to convince the big guys about how cool it was what I was doing. That conference was an ideal place for that. This is why I decided to attend to it, despite my allergy for these type of venues.
I had everything ready already when I left from my country but, as always, as the presentation day gets closer one decides to add new things or change something.

The night before my presentation, after finally landing and arriving to my hotel room, I stayed up very late. Presentation rehearsal, changes, little adjustments, extra slides to cover eventual questions, the usual stuff. It is not my style to be late and I had the feeling that everything was conjuring against me till tiredness did its job sending me to dreamland . The morning of my scheduled seminar I left my hotel room good 30 minutes ahead of what I originally planned. Trapped in negative feelings I entered the transfer station trying not to be pushed left and right like a doll by the daily commuters. I knew Japan was a nightmare for commuters and I didn’t know why I decided to use public transportation, but hey, there I was. I dived into the river of people and finally reached for the place where I should have had my pickup. Yes, Japan is an odd place where to move for someone from the Western world if you are not used it.
In the little vital space I had in that waiting corner I arranged myself and put the articles I studied during the flight and needed as references back in my bag. Once sitting I adjusted my handbag, stretched my legs a bit and started rotating my tired ankles, lost in my thoughts and looking at them. I remember I smiled, and maybe secretly giggled. I like my ankles. I was wearing my 4 inches black décolleté shoes, the ones I bought for the occasion and of which I was particularly proud of.

I kept repeating myself things like “Ok Michelle, You are sexy and you are prepared, you worked hard for this and presenting the data will be showtime. They gonna like it, you gonna catch them with your data, drive ‘em around and bewitch them”. Data I was going to present were in disagreement with most of what the other speakers were going to say but data were incontrovertible, and they opened up a lot of potential for a whole new class of materials. Still it would have made quite some people uncomfortable, I couldn’t afford to seem uncomfortable myself. I needed to look confident about what I was going to present, but as shy as I look I knew every fear would probably just vanish once I started to discuss things in which I believed. Normally it works like that for me.

When I shook my mind from those thoughts I couldn’t help noticing a stunning woman standing up, she was apparently waiting too, not far from where I was, standing alone. I have never been particularly attracted to tall women, or rather, in general, it has always been a turn off, rather than a turn on. In my past experience rarely a very tall girl had the sufficient elegance to mix with the power of her appearance. It was as if I had less “expectations” in terms of elegance for a petite. Yes, I was naturally less “demanding” and grace and elegance were easier to stand out and strike me in a short woman. A tall woman, on the contrary, to impress me, had really to radiate a sensuality of uncommon power. Anyway, this time the one standing up and checking her things was definitely an amazing woman. The kind of woman whose beauty can be understood only by a woman, while men, would just drool over her, nonsensically, simply not getting it.

The crowd of commuters, casual people, yelling groups, instead of shading her figure was on the contrary even more making her natural sensuality to brutally emerge. Well, in this case, when I say She was “standing over them” I am not meaning it only physically. Reserved as I generally am, I could not but admire her, in awe and respect. Realising it made me uncomfortable, Papers in my hands and wearing my elegant attire made of a portfolio black skirt, thigh high stockings, my shoes, and white silky shirt, it took good 20 seconds to me to wake up and realise that from outside I could have appeared like a lonely woman not used to travel and lost. The thing made me flush, get angry at myself and nervously finish adjusting my things, in the wait to arrange myself for the transfer. As I did that She happened to have her head turned to me. Her hair were slightly curly, shoulder long. Her eyes: wide and probably a shade of light blue, but I couldn’t really tell, from the place where I was. it was a moment but as she crossed my eyes my cheeks burnt, even under my olive skin. The embarrass I felt was the one you feel when you have been peeked over something that you were not supposed to stare. The kind of embarrass i was not feeling since my teen years, I hate to feel that way, I hate to feel vulnerable, if not around people I know very well.

I guess that being the cause of those reactions must be something that a woman of such beauty could be used to, but still i was too confused to have any really rational thought in that precise moment.

The thought I kept having in my mind as I lowered my head to my pursue, simulating an urgency to adjust my personal things hat i did not have was making me think:

“Mmh women like her, well, they are beautiful. Michelle, look, isn’t it funny?
People are attracted and desire to admire her. So, what is it like to be her ? Think about it, Michelle: what is it like to be under the eyes of all the lousy persons around? Oh Michelle, think if it were YOU. You are already pissed off when someone with an ugly evil look stares at you, what should it be for her? ”.
So, I was having all this sort of contort thinking. I guess it is the typical thoughts we women do have, at times. Anyway I was doing that, a bit to avoid my blushing and a bit to kill time in the way, although I had lost track of time in that moment.

There i was, a presentation to give, my laptop ready in my bag, plenty of references to defend my arguments and totally distracted. DAMN. Then again I lifted my eyes. I remember looking at what she was wearing. She was dressed in business attire – a charcoal business jacket and skirt and sheer, black stockings with stiletto heels. It is the type of tailleurs I LOVE wearing. “Damn, Michelle, Damn”.
What was she ? Maybe graduated in laws ? The responsible of some of the companies sponsoring the Conference ? Her make-up subdued, yes, that could have been her job for what I could tell. Gorgeous, stunning. Her manners must have been serious, I got more and more curious about her. She gave the impression of being extremely calm and quiet though, controlled. Yes, her figure was spelling that word, loud and clear: control.
Shook my head, adjusted my hair. Then again more questions, thoughts. Would she be going to the Conference Hall too ?
Now, that was likely, on top of that, that was the place for shuttles and private transportations going in that direction.

My curiosity grew, and in my mind I started playing many different solutions to try to speak to her. Scenarios. Typically me, my typical woman feminine thinking. You are stupid, Michelle. Yes, curiosity eating my neurones, so NOT-ME. So nice though.
To my side I had the conscience that being a foreigner could have made it not too strange if I would have approached her asking for … “informations maybe”? Then, of course being well dressed and being Her the most elegant person around me it could have sounded natural, no?
So I did what i would have never done in my life in my country, in my habitat, or in a normal situation.

“I’m sorry Miss, may i ask You a question ?”

I remember every single word and detail of her reply.
She looked at me, and after a few seconds that lasted an eternity and with a smile that paralysed me she said

<I was wondering how much time you would have spent there, before doing it . . . “Miss” >

She marked the word “Miss” in a particular way, accompanying it with a smile that twisted her lips in a simple, breathtaking, way. She did it as if she wanted to say .. you called me Miss .. so I do throw it back to you too. Intelligence, confidence, sheer sexiness. No wonder that her words left me off guard. This thing amused Her. it clearly did. Clearly.
“Gosh if you are a WOMAN, I thought…
Gosh if You know how to treat people and you like it.
Gosh .. this must be your game.
You cause reactions and it is pure pleasure when what you cause, with no effort exactly matches what You forecasted.”

My thoughts were just like that, but it was as if she knew what I was thinking and she also knew I was aware or her awareness.
Not wanting to go off the track from dialogue she expected I asked

< Sorry “Miss” … how much time before doing what ?>

This time trying to sound surprised but at the same time not wanting to let the control of the conversation to her.
She didn’t back up by a bit though, a little tilt of her head, and with brutal seductive cordiality.

How much time before you finding an excuse to talk to me of course, but don’t worry. I enjoyed the wait, and winning this bet with myself.
So where are YOU going ?

She asked me.
I didn’t wanted to comment on the first part of Her phrase, which clearly sent my heart on fire. She wanted that and I was not going to give it to her, not that easy.
She scored and we both knew. So I just answered her

To the Engineering Department and then Physics., there is a three day Workshop there and i am attending it.

My nipples were hardening, I could literally feel them rubbing on the inside of the silk of my soft buttoned shirt and I was praying for her not to notice it.

From behind a column, just by us a man in a suit appeared and smiled to Her. Probably the driver she was waiting for.

Let’s continue this dialogue tomorrow. You will find me in this same place and this same hour, if you will be here, we will continue. It will be early morning, normally conference starts later, You’ll have time. I think we might have something like 30 minutes. It has been a pleasure

She said this turned and cordially left. All I was left with was her magnificent ass swaying, closed tight in her black suit, and walking to the car. Her ass, the echo of her words, the back of her fit slender legs, the sound of her tickling shoes that made my ones of which I was proud, to fade into the total anonymity of shoeland. I was left with that, and my rage at myself for feeling as I was feeling in that moment.

There was no decision to take, it was already clear. The day after I would have been there. Same place, same spot, same hour.