Writing Experiment 1

Writing Experiment 1



    It was quite odd for me to sit here.  To everyone else, I was simply another face with a girl in a restaurant, but I felt its significance.  I managed to coerce a normally indifferent, but beautiful girl into coming with me on a date, something that one would normally find impossible.  Since words were of no value, instead I listened to the clinking of silverware, the fairly quiet chatter of others, and the jazz played by the local band nearby, the notes ringing out as smoothly as silk.  It was raining outside, only adding to the mood that I was lucky enough to share with this girl.  I tried not to stare at her, but it felt as if I couldn’t tear away from her either.  She had no social graces, but made up for it in looks and personality.  She was silent, something I found to be uncommon amongst teenage girls, but I began to see small glimpses of what was really underneath her armored heart.  With an occasional sultry smile that would melt the minds of many men, she began to loosen up around me.  It felt queer, as if she was secretly manipulating me through two-folded body language. She smiled only occasionally, even when there was no reason to. But even after all of this, she’d quickly retain

her aloof nature, as if catching herself. 



A clap of thunder broke all the immersion that her body had created in my eyes, and the lights spluttered, and finally giving way to the darkness. Swiftly, waiters began to light candlesticks, and the band simply kept on playing from memory.  I began to perspire, not from the heat of her gaze, but from the intensity of the situation.  After time, we finished eating, but had no inclination to go home in such dismal weather, and many shared the same views.  Eventually, we watched as an elderly couple took it upon themselves to enjoy the mood that was set, and began to dance in an unobstructed area.  Since they were old, a waltz suited them perfectly, the band matching their dance with a slow, and leisurely rhythm.  Others began to join, and soon the restaurant became an impromptu dance floor, with waiters and cooks joining in.  I wanted to join the crowd and hold my date close to me while listening to the rain softly pelt the windows. The initiative was taken from me by her, and she beckoned me up there, much to the amusement of older couples. 



It was here where I wasn’t sure what kind of person she was.  A stoic through silence, a temptress through gesture, and one of those moody types through action. I felt as if she were three people in one, but it bothered me not.  As long as she was in my arms, I had not a care for anything else.  Thankfully, I knew a little bit of waltz from the lessons of overbearing relatives, and thanked their pushiness for this wonderful opportunity to demonstrate my skill.  She slowly directed me towards the center of the crowd, pushing our bodies closer yet.  She moved her straightened auburn hair aside, and smiled a little, resting her face against my chest, much to my bewilderment.  I never met a woman this relaxed before. It was almost comforting to feel the heat of her breath as she held me tight.  We kept dancing, and every now and then I would catch a rather ardent look through her bangs, almost as if she were teasing me.  But I simply smiled back.  Being able to hold her was enough for me, albeit a little more wouldn’t do any harm.



However, good times had to come to an end, and the restaurant closed.  The people laughed and made friends with one another, and she and I left feeling rather light-hearted.  The rain, was not quite as happy as we were.  It had yet to cease the torrential amounts of water that it wished to drench us with.  And she had forgotten an umbrella, leaving me to simply let her have mine.  I have not a care for being wet in the rain, and the small blush of embarrassment from using my umbrella was well worth the payoff.  Thankfully, she lived only a few blocks from the restaurant, and I bade her good night after the arduous, albeit forgivable walk through the incessant weather. But the night was not yet done with me.  As I turned around, wistfully thinking to myself, she grabbed me by the collar of my damp jacket, and drug me inside.



She quietly closed the door, and locked it.  Even in context, I was unable to quite grasp why she barred me from going home.  After all, I had homework to do, and my parents were unforgiving on anything academic. Almost like bad luck when both of your parents are teachers.  Even more so when you’re in their classes.  That aside, she explained that I would get sick walking home in such rain, and that she would be lonely regardless.  I wasn’t sure how to take this, as it felt like she unintentionally created a more than amorous meaning to the phrase.  I was not foolish enough to refuse her offer of hospitality, and more importantly, deny myself the chance to spend more time with her.



She began to cook something in the kitchen, and I quickly started a fire in the fireplace to help dry my clothes.  She refused to let me help her cook, as she said “It’s my duty as a host to do such things.  Yours is to simply make yourself at home.”  With this, I simply sat back down on one of the sofas, and she followed suit with a cup of Chai. As she finished the secondary dinner, the power outage hit us, and we were once again restricted to the light of the fireplace, now orange and bronze embers, with occasional flames licking the surface of the unused logs. 



She took no hesitation, and wrapped her arms and body around my side.  The tender feeling of her hands, and supple breasts pressing into me became something of a jolt to me.  I casually sipped my tea, slightly dazed. She too let go of me with one hand to drink some of her own.  I felt almost vulgar for perverting what blatantly seemed innocent efforts to show affection.  But I also felt proud, in an odd sense, as I haven’t taken advantage of this situation at all.  I began to debate whether or not this was because of my own inherent stupidity with love, when she gasped a little at a particularly loud burst of thunder, squeezing me even tighter, and causing all my arguments on both ends to simply dissipate in a haze of pleasure.



After a couple hours of this silence, I felt her face bump into me, and a small snore escaped her. I chuckled to myself, and simply sat there, too tired to really bother with anything else.  I could tell she tried hard to show who she really was, and that she was simply putting up a stoic front.  But I knew her long enough that it wasn’t even necessary.  Never was really.  All it took was some rain, a restaurant, a dance, and a fireplace. No words, or gifts.  Not even a kiss.