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Graying couple with a carefully groomed white Yorkie, the man complaining about his knees.
And then.
Oh, and then.
My body starts to tingle. Not the way you feel when your skin is cold, or when you bang your elbow and hurt your funny bone.
This is a full-body shiver that claims me from head to toe.
I hold my breath, completely taken by the sensation.
I know the instant I see him that I’m doing something wrong. It slams into me full force, a shame that creeps into every cell of my body, every bit of bone and sinew that so many generations have convened to create.
But my desire is stronger than shame. It’s a full-throated electricity that sparks throughout me, overriding every system that nature gave me and that my keepers carefully cultivated.
My eyes rebel against everything as my eyes crawl over him from head to toe, pulled by a force I cannot fight.
Want.
I want him.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than him, the single man holding a leash attached to a very friendly golden retriever.
The feeling is so profound and so diffuse that I cannot tell you where it begins. It’s as if there were no time before my eyes landed on him, as if I only came into being the moment I was in his presence.
How can this be? How can such feelings exist?
Some part of me is betraying all of the rest.
And it feels so good.
An unbearable lightness fills me, as if the very sight of him were helium itself. He is tall, much taller than me, with broad shoulders and muscled arms tightly showcased by his workout clothes. He wears a half-zipped long-sleeved shirt, his top and bottoms black, his shoes white with black stripes.
As he stretches, a rakish lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, obscuring one eye. His face is set with a serious countenance, full lips above a strong chin.
He is a work of art.
I am nothing compared to him.
Shock sets in as the thought runs through me.
How can I think this? I am the princess. I am the embodiment of a prophecy. My future is laid out, and I have mere weeks left before I take the next natural step toward saving humankind.
I know this is true. It’s what I’ve been taught and everyone around me believes.
And yet, as I watch him, his powerful thighs flexing as he begins to jog in place, a hunger builds. A hunger for something that I’ve never been fed.
Choice.
I want to choose him. I want to choose what he represents. I want to choose to go to him, to touch him, to have him touch me back, to be acknowledged by someone I’m so drawn to.
So many questions swirl through my mind, and yet they are taboo. He is taboo. I am not allowed to be attracted to anyone other than the man I’m destined for.
Confession is required. A lashing is mandated. But if I tell, what will they do to him? He doesn’t even know who I am.
And that, more than anything, hurts the most.
I have to know him. He has to know me.
