In a Meeting

I have been attending meetings once a week about a project that isn't ours, but will effect us. Because it's a meeting in which I generally don't participate, but mostly observe, I sit along the wall in a corner and listen. At the table sits a very tall, lanky man. A man I have known for years and periodically think is attractive. For two weeks, this man has been completely distracting.

He comes into the room urgently, finds a place near me at the table and sits down. He leans far back in the chair, making room for his long, thin legs. He crosses them and shifts sideways.

As we listen to the starfish in the center of the table, he rolls back and whispers questions in my ear. Close. Quiet. More close and quiet than he needs to be, really. His breath is hot and stale against my neck. He rolls back towards the table, re-crosses his legs, and puts his chin in his left hand. I study the tiny curls in the back of his head, each with one gray hair. A gentle line of silver.

He shifts slightly and the gather in the back of his green button shirt gives a little. His shoulders spread. Oh, holy heaven.

He rolls back again, reaching for a timeline I have on the table next to me. His hand comes up short, so I help, gliding the page slowly over his outstretched hand and down his long arm.

The wing span. Oh God, the long, strong wing span of this man makes the starfish go quiet and the others disappear. As they all yap on, I drift away and am suddenly wrapped up in that wing span, nose and mouth climbing from collar bone, up the long neck to his jaw. I am held and encompassed inside those enormous arms, my legs curled against him in the chair. His soft lips and gentle whiskers kiss my eyes. I slide my arms around him and feel the epic expanse of his strong back.

He smells of soap and coffee.

I have often said grown-ups need giants. Big people who can wrap us up in their arms and shelter us.

This man seems that big. That calm. That smart.

And he's sexier than hell in a meeting.