her delicate hands moved like liquid poetry, majestic, fluid continuations of her arms and hands and fingertips rippled through the air like an enthralling afterimage. each sign symbolized something, a silent language, but she 'spoke' in such a manner that one didn't need to know the meaning to be consumed in its beauty. in her beauty. David glanced up from his paper, his fingernails piercing the edges of the weak newsprint as fingers tingled slightly in reaction to such a sight. folding the paper he didn't drop his gaze, mesmerized by the sweeping soft expressions born of her alluring flesh. she paused, her hands hanging in the air as she watched her companion's reply. David's eyes wandered away from the source of stimulation only to stumble across many more, her eyes, her nose, her lips. her lips that twitched ever so slightly, perfectly placed and spaced, a hint of moisture reflecting the yellow glow of the train carriage's lighting. She started talking again, in the same flowing manner, but David's focus readjusted to the seductive curvature that was serving as a most enticing background. He noticed her hands clench into fists, an ugly yet passionate transformation, but was still staring quite blatantly at her breasts snuggly hiding under an incredibly tight, green t-shirt. She stood up and approached him, her language more abrasive than the symphony David had just enjoyed. His mind was running with scenes of a more personal encounter as her vibrant hand and open palm slapped him across the face. Even in the consequential daze, David managed to grip the meaning and apologized profusely in a voice, in a language, as a person that meant nothing to her.


thanks sandy and observer for sticking around for it, hope it lived up to some of the anticipation... maybe a slight exaggeration. haha. peace.