The scent of a woman

She held out her left arm. "Smell this," she said as they walked to the concert venue from her apartment.

Her friend raised an eyebrow, but sniffed the lingering scents from the perfume counter, as she narrated the choices she sampled and bought.

"And, there's one coming out for winter, that is just amazing," she continued.

"Does it smell like roses and chocolate?" her friend asked.

"Oh no," she replied excitedly. "This one smells like mystery and sex."

Great expectations

She listened to the giddy gaggle of her friend carry on about his abstract finer points, the attractive ones, the ones that would translate into what makes a great lover. All those little things that built up the pillar upon which this semi-fantastic boy was erected.

"You know, I hate to burst your bubble," she smiled honestly, smelling the smelly smell of great sexpectations, "regardless of who you think he is, he still puts his pants on one leg at a time. I just hope it's not a let down for you if it ever comes to fruition."

Her friend's dreamy smile barely faded, her hope hardly cracked. "The bar's been set pretty low," she admitted. "It won't take much to surpass what's come before..."

Waiting on her world to change

"How are things going with him?" her mother asked, again.

She sighed, empty of emotion, not sure how to really answer that, again. "Fine," she muttered.

Her mom wistfully said, "Oh Sweetie, I'm really excited for the day that you're really in love with someone..."

Do you know where he gets off?

She left for work early that morning. Caught the same shuttle-bus that she always rode down the walking mall through the Denver Metroplex. And there he was. Again. The man in the hot suit.

He was the only man in this city of tired casual rustic wear that was tailored to the nines in a double breasted charcoal pinstriped cashmere blend Armani suit with a striped baby blue tie which only accentuated the fine details of his overall ensemble.

The suit makes the man.

She paused her gaze, momentarily breathless and wondering if this beau could pull off jeans with the same suave. He handled his attache case incredible well. She wished she was his briefcase.

She walked passed him on the way out and winked: "I can't wait to see your ascot."