There she is; The image of perfection. Strong jaw, wide, almond shaped eyes so dark brown they appear black. Those eyes... They pull me in like a riptide. I fear to look too deep into them, afraid that once I do, I won't ever be able to look away. Her straight nose and full pink lips. Her smooth, short black hair and perfect porcelain skin. 'Oh that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.' Only Shakespeare could phrase my thoughts so perfectly. As I watch, more details force themselves into my vision. I see her powerful, yet slender build, a boyish exterior hiding the woman I know is there under the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

     She meets my gaze and for a second, time stops. It's striking to me how one who presents such a masculine image can be so breath-takingly lovely. My heart flutters against my ribs like a trapped butterfly, lungs constricting. She takes a step forward, and in that step I see all the routines she has danced; it calls forth a more basic, more savage instinct in me. She moves like a predatory cat, all wild, contained grace, and once more my breath is ripped from my very throat. An errant thought pops into my head, the only one not cleansed by her presence. 'Go to her. Go.' But I can't. My feet feel as though they're glued to the floor. My muscles are suddenly iron, and unresponsive to my will.

     Her smile reminds me of a cat with a mouse, and I can't help but gasp as if struck. That simple turning up at the corners of her mouth, curling... Funny, how the curl of her lips curls my toes as well. In a few more steps she's in front of me; I didn't know she was so tall. Not much taller than myself, but still. I look up into those fathomless eyes, like pools of water. I shiver, though not from the cold, and take a rattling breath. Her smile softens at my reaction, hand rising to brush my cheek. I lean into the touch, eyes shutting of their own volition. At this she chuckles, and again I shiver.

I look up, and she's gone, dissipating like smoke over the surface of still water. Just...

Gone.

No critiques yet?

/cries

Your deion of the girl is so vivid and you portray the man's (other woman's?) thought for her so well. I could tell exactly how he felt about her very easily.

One thing that stopped the flow of the writing for me; (Just a grammar mistake)

She meets my gaze, and for a second time stops

It should be;

She meets my gaze and for a second, time stops.

Because you pause after second. If you don't, it sounds like: Second time stops. Like time is stopping for a second time.

It's a girl talking about a girl. I actually got the idea from a dream where I ended up accidentally kind of meeting my idol...

Also, yay for fixing my grammar! I love you for that.

And I'm vey glad that the deion works. It's very hard for me to put feelings into words. Now I just need to organize this into part of the book I'm working on... flkgdfgfgersdjkdsn

This is the one who inspired the dream, which inspired the story.