It all boiled down to what positions I could picture them in.No one inspired great stories in me though, apart from the gentle wondering. I figured my mind was just too tired from work to grasp on to anyone like normal.My sleepy mind turned instead to the man I sat by on the plane last week. I’d been weaving a story about him that twisted and turned in my brain from the moment he sat by me. His careful, upper crust accent, his slightly wrinkled business attire, his frequent calls before we even took off, and his preppy looks made it all too easy to imagine a variety of things with him at the center.He smelled clean and I fought the urge to lean over and place my nose against his neck during take off. Twice he mentioned taking the client out to dinner after their meeting if she was free. The hinting… The hopeful tone…Mmm, an upscale hotel with clean white sheets that smelled of rose-water. Him opening the cuffs on his sleeves as she removed her earrings. They’d make some pretense of. It didn’t seem to be.He tilted his head and jabbed his hand a little closer.I looked in the direction of the barman, Steve, but he was busy serving another customer at the other end of the bar. I took his hand and shook it; feeling a little uncertain. I smiled, hesitantly. “How do you know my name?” I had asked.He just smiled. His gaze fell onto my pint glass, before settling back on my eyes. I glanced in his direction and there it was, my fucking name on the side of the pint glass that I had been given by my last boyfriend Steve. I felt stupid but I had to grin and ended up biting the side of my lip.“You look lovely when you smile,” he had said.I nodded, I knew I looked lovely when I smiled. Everyone had always told me that.“Thank you,” I had said. I had to reply, it would have been impolite if I had not; actually, it would have been downright rude in my book.“Your dimples compliment your freckles and they wander across your nose like – like they’re on an erotic journey of some.
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