I wonder what he would taste like, she thought trying not to stare as he walked by her desk. As if he heard her thoughts, her crush looked right at her and she blushed.
What is wrong with me? she thought as she watched him walk away. Stop, she commanded herself, but it was too late her imagination had started to wander.
What would he taste like? Honey and cinnamon comes to mind for some reason or maybe vanilla and orange.
She was thinking of ways to get close to him when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and instead of saying hello she said, "Why is it we use food to describe sex?"
"So, I take it you have seen him already today?”
Was that an accusation?
"Seriously, why use food to describe sex? Virgins lose their cherries, good girls have vanilla sex and who really wants a tossed salad?"
"Are you done?"
"Well, I hate to disturb your fantasy."
"Did you want something?
"Nope, just wondered how long it would take you to have dirty thoughts about your co-workers."
"Are you implying that I am acting like a love struck teenager?"
"No. You are acting like one; I don’t have to imply anything."
With that she hung up and the sound of giggling could be heard coming from a cubicle not far from where she sat. Mistake number one was confiding in a co-worker about lusting after another co-worker. Mistake number two was answering the phone.
I bet he tastes like vodka and sauerkraut. Sauerkraut? I must be hungry because there is nothing sexy about vodka and sauerkraut. Well, maybe vodka.
Would it be to obvious if I asked him to lunch? Will he ever make the first move? Why does sex and food seem to go hand in hand?
He walked by again and again she blushed.
Christ, I am acting like a teenager, she reprimanded her self, Maybe I should just write him a note and pass it to him during study hall.
Four hundred words or less, fiction or creative non-fiction, linked up on Friday morning’s post, based on one of the following definitions:
flavor |ˈflāvər| ( Brit. flavour)