But as our paths crossed I was captivated by his sparkling blue eyes, his lean body clothed in a dark grey suit and open necked shirt. His casual elegance.
He smiled.
I smiled.
"Hello," I said shyly.
"Hello," he replied, his smile breaking into an enticing grin.
"I trust you've not got bi-polar disorder?" I said.
"No, indeed," he laughed. "Just a small problem, easily rectified."
I glanced down at his pants.
He laughed and said something witty.
I said something witty in reply.
He said something even wittier.
I said something even more wittier.
"Wow," he said. "Your the funniest woman I've ever met."
"So you've not met Graham Norton then?" I quipped.
"Hmm. Point taken." He grinned again. "You know, I've never met a woman like you."
"Neither have I," I replied. "Which is lucky as otherwise I'd have to share my inheritance."
He laughed again and reached out and touched my face.
"You have the most amazing eyes," I said as he ran his finger down my cheek.
"You have the most amazing...bottom," he said, as his hand strayed to my thigh.
"Oh gosh," I replied, my knees shaking. "No one's ever said that to me before!"
He slid his arms around my waist.
I wrapped my arms around his neck.
We moved closer together. Our lips were just about to touch and....
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGGGGGGGGGGG.
________________________________________________________
Yep, Mr T's alarm clock went off.
Sod it. Sod it. Sod it. Why do things like that always, always, happen to me? The only time I get a decent dream where I'm not been bashed to death by a lunatic with a Le Crueset saucepan or drowning in a sink of stinky dishwater and it has to be ruined by Mr T's alarm clock. Humph.
I'm lodging a formal complaint. I demand some flattery of my bottom or I'm moving out.
