Anna sipped the super cold cola staining the glass with her electric red lipstick and stared him down the bottle watching as he filled his journal with what seemed like deep thoughts. The cold water droplets dripped down her fingers and chin from the glass bottle cooling her down but her heart burning for his attention.
“Do you always write when in the company of beautiful women?” she finally asked him as the cola bottle reached its end and her little bit of cola happiness swindled away leaving her fiery and desperate. “Do you usually wear such transparent shirts when in the company of men?” he finally looked up from his journal and asked her firmly.
Anna sweeps her flaxen curls to the side exposing her bare breasts through her silk white chiffon shirt. “Oh, the man has a moustache. I would have never guessed with the way you’ve planted your face between those pages.” She smirked as her legs crossed over enticing him to notice her long Milky white legs in all-American denim shorts. Her shorts were the definition of liberty and freedom as they exposed and liberated much.
His eyes like any man gaze upon her abundantly free body in all exhibition as he regains his composure to return to his vigorous writing. “Do you not have a name?” Anna calls to him as her eyes fall onto his. “Why do you want my name?” he chuckles as his hand returns to his written words. “I feel I should know the name of a man who gazes upon me.” She responded crossing the courtyard to sit closer to the attractive stranger.
“If that’s the case Miss then wouldn’t you need half the men in this place to give you their name?” she sat just a few inches away from him on the white towelled pool chair. “You’re different to the others.” Her voice trailed out as the sun glistened off the rims of her sunglasses. “You are so predictable and immature.” He spoke politely as his hand continued to write with his eyes fixated on the pages in front of him.
The words felt like cold iced water burning out her lungs as her sunglasses found their way to the floor exposing her emerald soulful innocent eyes trying to tell stories of loss and tragedy. He noticed her fumbling disposition and understanding eyes and at that moment forgot about his journal as the lady that stood before him wasn’t some marble statue of Diana, but deep soul bare all that was the goddess herself.
“Why do you stop?” Anna hesitatingly asks expecting nothing more but offensive words as she had become accustomed to such a response. “I stopped because I finally see you. The real you” he twitched his pen as she adjusted her hair covering now all that was bare. “Do you think of yourself as some judge of what’s good and not because if that’s the case, you must know you’re not a god, and I will be who I please.” Anna grabbed her fallen sunglasses as she stood up to head far away from him. “My name is Dean. What’s yours?” He called out as she left the pool.
“You’ll never know,” Anna shouted out as she realized he wasn’t that different after all.