Ray had been the love of my life in 1985 or so I thought at the time. Look at him now. He is even more delicious than I could ever have imagined. He was always a good looking guy but age had been more than kind to him. He has matured into a devastatingly handsome man. He looks fantastic. It is all I can do not to dribble from my gaping mouth.
His skin is more olive than I remembered, the colour of light toffee. The Italian sun I guess. He wears his jet black hair long and trendily pulled back in a pony tail. It suits him and enhances the squareness of his jaw and chiselled facial features. His white tee shirt stretches tight across his broad pumped up pecs. His black D&G jeans are as tight as a second skin. No wonder he has made such a success of modelling. He is a real Adonis. A hunk.
“What? I’m sorry Ray, what were you saying?” I can’t concentrate on the conversation at all. I am totally overwhelmed by his physical presence.
My reflection disappears as Ray lifts his oversized sunglasses to wipe perspiration from his cheeks. The midday sun is relentless. Ray’s eyes are like dark wells of oil. Deep and mysterious. He is so sexy. I fan myself madly with my magazine. I’m all hot and bothered and it’s not the climate.
He prattles on about this and that. Totally inane monologue. Despite months of correspondence on facebook it is clear we are two strangers with little, if anything, in common. His world is full of beautiful people. Shallow, selfish, living for the moment. Only interested in the next assignment, the next exotic location, wearing the right labels, drinking expensive champagne. Being on the A list. He talks on and on. The soft timbre of his accented voice washes over me. I could listen to him all day, if only he would say something remotely interesting. It is all so superficial and unimportant.
My life must seem mundane in comparison. To the likes of Ray anyway. Working long hours, stressed to the max most of the time. No glamour. No idea what the latest look is or where to go to get it. Crows feet edging out from the corners of my eyes. Not even the slightest hint of Botox.
What was I thinking when I agreed to meet him in Hawaii? It seemed so exciting when he suggested it, I even borrowed the money from Mum. Mum was delighted I was finally taking an interest in something other than work. Constantly reminding me that at 39 the battery in my biological clock has all but gone flat. “You’re no spring chicken Rose” had become her mantra.
And here we are. Ray, totally self absorbed, barely stops for a breath. Small talk is clearly his forte. The waitress fauns over him likely a love sick school girl. Just like I once did. This could be a very long 5 days. Maybe I could just use him for sex? Now there’s a thought.
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2 comments:
Funny, that!
I love how your character plays with these two conflicting facets of the human condition. She's great; we love her honesty and openness. You've created two very strong characters.
Also love the detail of your descriptions. I'm right there slavering with you.
I needed a little transition between Ray's "deep and mysterious eyes" and "prattles on". Perhaps just after "it's not the climate", you could have given him a few lines of dialogue where both you and the reader sadly wake up to the fact that this guy has beauty only skin deep.
Jenny says:
Very nicely drawn characters, Peta.
I would have liked her to take action at the end, rather than just having the thought.
After all, the best way to stop a man prattling on is to start kissing him ...
Alternatively, she could interrupt him mid-sentence and say "Ray, shut up and kiss me ..."
After all the lead-up, the reader would be able to guess she was planning to use him for sex!
Great situation, great characters, well written - well done again!
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