She was smoking … not smoking a cigarette smoking, but hot. Her skin was warm chocolate, and her eyes were bog oak; dark and filled with mystery. She was giving me that ‘take me’ look, or at least I imagined that she was. I couldn’t see her body, but my imagination filled in the blanks.
I heard someone enter the room, and placed the fashion magazine back on the table. The whir of a dentist drill filled the reception, but my mind was still fantasising about the woman in the magazine. It took my mind off what was to come.