*
Perhaps it was ten years ago, perhaps five. The woman - a chance acquaintance made at a party in Warsaw - was older than me and I could see that. But she was still attractive and a faint whiff of her lost youth was lingering about her.
We were sipping on something, nibbling at something else and talking. My wit wasn't lost on her and her body wasn't lost on me. There were gaping emotional holes in both of us and for a moment we considered, secretly, filling them with each other. I could be wrong, but I felt she was ready to go all the wrong way in filling hers - and fast.
How ironic, I thought: I was there looking for a pure young woman dreaming fairy-tale dreams that she might have been many years earlier and she was looking for a confused young man dreaming dirty dreams that I was many years earlier, perhaps at exactly the same time, perhaps at another party where we could have been standing next to each other, chatting to wrong people...
*phallic, in case my graphic effort has been lost on you. It's a rather simplistic take, probably not worth mentioning, not to mention committing. However, because of the erotic strand in the short story, I thought something phallic, even if simplistic, would enhance the whole thing artistically. Besides, the story's quite simplistic too. (And isn't the phallus? At least graphically...)
*phallic, in case my graphic effort has been lost on you. It's a rather simplistic take, probably not worth mentioning, not to mention committing. However, because of the erotic strand in the short story, I thought something phallic, even if simplistic, would enhance the whole thing artistically. Besides, the story's quite simplistic too. (And isn't the phallus? At least graphically...)
