Chance Encounter
Moderate sun and a light evening breeze set the tone as the man sits in the café's outdoor patio area at a small white enamel circular table flush to the sidewalk. She is taller than most and getting attention as she passes by the strangers table. Would you care to join me? he asks in a normal voice. He gets a look. Yes, she says, but only briefly.
They face each other across the table. Put your feet on my knees, he says with a smile, and she slips off her sandals and places her left foot on his right knee and her right foot on his left knee. He pushes the hem of her slacks up an inch or so, softly rubbing the pale skin. A gentle rub, not a massage. The hovering waiter brings a silver tray of four maraschino cherries. She picks one up by the stem, eats it. Then another, and another, and then the final one. I've eaten all the cherries, she says. They were for you, he says. She puts her feet back on the ground. I have to leave now. He puts his sunglasses on: Will I see you again? She answers No, I think not. I've enjoyed you, but not again.
He turns his head as she stands.
Moderate sun and a light evening breeze set the tone as the man sits in the café's outdoor patio area at a small white enamel circular table flush to the sidewalk. She is taller than most and getting attention as she passes by the strangers table. Would you care to join me? he asks in a normal voice. He gets a look. Yes, she says, but only briefly.
They face each other across the table. Put your feet on my knees, he says with a smile, and she slips off her sandals and places her left foot on his right knee and her right foot on his left knee. He pushes the hem of her slacks up an inch or so, softly rubbing the pale skin. A gentle rub, not a massage. The hovering waiter brings a silver tray of four maraschino cherries. She picks one up by the stem, eats it. Then another, and another, and then the final one. I've eaten all the cherries, she says. They were for you, he says. She puts her feet back on the ground. I have to leave now. He puts his sunglasses on: Will I see you again? She answers No, I think not. I've enjoyed you, but not again.
He turns his head as she stands.
Gene McCormick has had more than thirty books published, a mix of fiction, non-fiction, poetry and art, and his poems have appeared in scores of literary journals. Several of his poems have been converted to music and performed professionally. His paintings are in collections nationwide and for several seasons were used as designs for a collection of couture sportswear; for years he was the illustrator for the online literary zine, misfit.net.