Gabrielle Queen - I Really Like You

I stay a long time staring fixedly at the hand-written note. Above all, the “x” at the end fills me with new worries. That night I did not sleep a wink for thinking and rethinking about that splendid kiss on my neck - Perhaps it came about by chance, but there was so much passion between us - Did we both feel it together? Or is it my crazy fantasy??? I don’t feel myself any more, I really don’t know what to do!!! I am - suspended in the air between the incredible madness about a kiss on my neck and the most complete fear, the absurd panic about being mistaken once again. Now I should find any excuse and kindly refuse your offer for this evening. I grab, with trembling hand, a sheet of paper and set to writing something about my sick grandmother who I have to look after - the irony is that it’s true! - but I glance again at the red rose, fresh like this new passion that is overwhelming me, in spite of myself - leaving me breathless. The petals remind me of your lips - I let out a groan. It’s the proof that I don’t want to deny. I must do it, but I can’t. After all, it’s only about a dinner. A veiled opportunity to study you without you knowing and perhaps - understand a bit better who you are. Perhaps it will be just a dinner like so many others. Now if I think about it, I already once had to accompany Mr. Okashima and other colleagues to dinner and the theatre, which is his preferred cultural activity. OK Milena, calm yourself down. Don’t get paranoid over an incident, accept it as though nothing happened. It’s a chance to improve relations with the boss. But while I write you a thankyou email, I know deep inside me that: 1) I can’t wait to meet you in a less formal environment and 2) this evening I will wear one of my best, most chic outfits.

4.

There’s a small problem: I am prettier than I would want t.o be

My friend Sophie is looking at me euphoric for about ten minutes, continuing to give me suggestions on what to do: smile: talk, etc. as if I was still a sixteen year-old. - OK, he is one of the men most in vogue in town and, moreover, he’s my boss - but this doesn’t mean that I have to transform myself into his new geisha.. or worse still, Mr. Okashima’s - Perhaps I should put on something less striking.

- I forbid you! - shouts Sophie, gripped by a kind of post-bender euphoria while she takes photos of me to post on Faceboom - as I stupidly called it - Instagram and all the other social media websites on the planet.

Well - as I was telling you, I am too elegant, like - a girl invited to the recent divorce of Brangelina, if they ever gave a party in honour of the sensational event gossiped about for so long by everyone. I had some blonde streaks done, in one of the best beauty centres in town, which in my black hair, gathered up in a special plait, create a nice and chic contrast. The skin-tight sky-blue suit shows off brilliantly both my curves in the right places, and my siren’s eyes - at least in Sophie’s opinion, after three glasses of sparkling wine. With a low-necked top and sleeves, it is covered with a blue veil dusted with glitter. Together with the fabulous Black Giardini sandals with vertiginous heels, it creates a very glamorous effect. At least, I hope so. - Oh God! why do I dress like that? Richard will definitely think that I want to take him straight to bed! Exactly the opposite of my intentions, I swear! - Don’t worry, the worst effect that your get-up will have on him will be a pay increase - Therefore great, you win and you shine! The effect I had on my boss was even worse than all that I and my girlfriend could have thought; he almost didn’t speak all evening, staring at me as if he had suddenly become deaf and dumb; it was left to me the burden of conversation with Mr. Okashima, in the worst American English, learnt from so many of the films that I watch on-line. And while I pretend not to notice that Richard is staring at me - do you know what I am saying? - he doesn’t stop staring at me the whole evening, as though he had never seen me before. I wonder if every so often he might give me an imaginary little lick. Oh Sir! a total, total disaster!!! An hour and a half of torture under his charming blue eyes are enough to promise myself to not dress and make myself up ever again in this way, as long as I can manage it. The fact remains that I know him, he loves sophisticated, but simple and natural things. This evening I really exaggerated but - perhaps my exaggerated and provocative get-up will convince him to not talk to me ever again for all his life! That could be the positive side! At the café - I never drink coffee - I excuse myself and go for a bath, happy to enjoy a moment of relaxation. Richard has rediscovered a bit of his usual talkativeness, he was telling our client about a game of bridge with Yessica Ferrari, one of his ex - flames and - as it happens - CEO of our competitor - I definitely need to regain my strength. - It’s a bit too hot this evening, isn’t it?? I utter a little shriek with almost a jump: Richard is behind me, staring at me in the mirror! - Er - Mr. Bredson - What - what are you doing in the ladies room? I lick my lips to hide my nervousness, I can’t believe he followed me in! Will I have permission to do a pee, in the absence of your undesired presence?? I blush violently, only now has he realised where he was, but how much has he drunk? - I just wanted to say to you - Er - that this evening - this evening truly - not that you are not always, but this evening - this evening truly - As has happened to him before, he can’t manage to find the words, he seems suddenly to be a sixteen-year-old boy, his mind seems completely dulled by the image of me. Isn’t it marvellous the effect that a beautiful girl can always have on a boy, of any age? You come towards me, you glue me to the washbasin, oh God! I can’t escape. Milena - why don’t you dress like that every day? Probably because not one of your colleagues would do any work any more - the males: out of admiration, the ladies: out of envy, the firm would go bankrupt in the space of a month - but, even so, it would be worth it - to die of happiness admiring an angel just dropped from the sky - I don’t have time to answer with an intelligent, witty remark, his lips are already on my cheek. Oh God! we’re starting again! He breathes in my perfume with his eyes closed, traces the lines of my cheekbone with his mouth, plays with a loose lock of my hair, pushes his cheek against mine in a sensual game which, little by little, makes me weak at the knees. Er! Excuse me! - a lady exclaims bitterly behind him who looks extraordinarily like a female version of Donald Trump. We rush out of the toilet laughing and for a moment the mirror on the wall seems to depict a fine couple during a relaxing business dinner.

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