Enticing Eternity (GM)

Driving to run an errand, I just happened to be passing the School Bus stop at critical timing and saw Kirsten dismount the bus with a toss back of her long and (no color mentioned) shoulder length flowing hair tapering in an IN curly prom older than her years hairstyle. That head toss is almost a Kirsten trademark which I sometimes, though the older of we two, have recently caught myself doing now and then. Each time I am torn twixt a smile and a sigh at her habit's effect on my unconscious actions. The first axiom of Communication Theory is: One cannot NOT communicate. My becoming so rapidly influenced into adopting one of this youths identifying habits speaks worlds. I havent decided whether or not I like it. The fact that I dont stop myself, in itself, tells me part of me has subconsciously submitted on its own.

The moment I saw my new friend, I was transported instantly into a whole new frame of mind. Then she spied me and wonders of wonders in a visage of grace and slender beauty in silken motion, though only just biting her lip as though she had been pondering a major decision a second ago, she vivified visibly and enthusiastically waved one of two bare, rolled up sleeved arms, and hurried toward my car appropriately parked 50 ft facing the disembarking youths.

I smiled all the more as I caught the bus driver watching Kirsten approach my car-eyes unmistakably on her. Was a tween girl lover there? Did I sense the distance between the drivers upper mustache and jaw grow perceptibly; was he disarmed by her so very petite budding breasts and ever so feminine derrière in movement that had to tantalize each second of her existence enticing eternity to switch into slow frame mode? Or was all of these minute details of Kirstens paradisaic beauty in motion visible to my keen tween cerebral tuned cognitions alone.

Too, I swear, Kirsten looked like a fashion add for J. Crew as she made a this-is-me statement that belied her age with an uncanny ability to tie a few pieces of cloth together into a Junior High testimonial to not judge a youth by her age alone. She carried her light tan backpack slung over a single shoulder with slender bared arms, lithe loveliness accentuated the more by her muslin conference jacket with beech wood piping, color coordinated Capri pants and pale peach blouse as though each inch of her had been cast, costumed, and creatively directed in a coming of age dramatic event written just for Tween Lovers. In my eyes there was no doubt she was the star and all other girls in view were dispensable extras.

Goodness, I literally trembled inwardly as her hand grasped and opened the car door handle and she quickly dipped and swayed in as though this was a daily habit, tossed her backpack into the rear, slid into her seat, fastened her seatbelt (all in a heartbeat) and looked me squarely in the eyes as she said simply. I am so glad to be here, Ems. We didnt break eye contact until the school bus passed us as we both sat happily and publicly holding each one the others single proffered welcoming hand. I drove away slowly wondering where we were going in more ways than one. For the sake of those lurking I will add that at the end of our time spent in one anothers company, with the exception of a few fast food comfort calories, I can document in all earnestness, and moreover with all earned frustration, no foul-no harm.

Warmly Shared, ξms