The fantasy...

He was six foot one. Pecan colored skin. Low well groomed beard. Soul piercing eyes and I smile that’d melt your heart. He wore a tank top. It was a Nike tank top. Red letters atop a red check mark that read “just do it.” Believe me sir, I wanted to. You could see the outline of his chest through it. Firm, tight muscles. He wore cargo shorts and a pair of black and red Nike sneakers. He had his hands in his pockets as he stood around with his friends laughing about old times. His biceps gleamed in the sun. Not sure if he was sweating a bit or bathed with baby oil. Either way I was appreciating the view. I just stared at him. He didn’t even notice and that was okay. I wanted to just take in all that was him. His sense of humor, his stance, his sexiness. His voice was deep. It’s unbelievable the thoughts you can have about a man you’ve just met. And technically we haven’t met. I just so happen to come about him. I’ve never known myself to start to immediately lust. Moisture building between my legs as I think about touching him, caressing him, feeling him. I had to take deep breaths as my fingertips gripped the edge of my chair. As I was in deep thought, I heard another man’s voice. “Baby,” it said. I ignored it. “Baby,” it said again. I was shaken out of my trance. I looked over my shoulder to my left. It was my husband. “Here’s your soda.” “Thank you babe,” I said. I glanced one last time at the God that had briefly stolen my heart. Then I let him go.