by Sandra Seamans
Mall gawking, that's what I'm doing. I'm sitting on one of those God-awful mall benches, a pee-inducing fountain splashing behind me, with every fiber of my being focused on the girl walking towards me. She is everything I've ever longed for, youth, beauty and style in one perfectly designed package.
My sensible self turns to Jell-O as she steps on the escalator, her movement taunting me with a tantalizing glimpse of black leather straps wrapped around seductive pink curves. I imagine a splash of blood red painted across her pristine toenails and I'm swept away in a pulsating need I can't fight.
I chase after her, a deep-seated lust driving me forward, desperately afraid I'll lose sight of the silky blond hair swaying around the gentle swell of her hips. Sweat drenches my brow, my breathing reduced to ragged gulps, as I finally catch up with her lithe figure near the entrance to the parking garage. My hand, lost to insane desire, grabs her arm.
Before she can scream for help, I plead for release from the obsession that has tipped me over the edge of reason. "Excuse me, dear, could you please tell me where you found those delicious shoes?"