Intro to "Summer Kind of Love:
It has been a while since I amused my own creative taste buds and wrote a creative piece, and given writing a book is on my "list of things to do before i die" I thought I might as well start putting together something to work with now, and see where it takes me. I don't have the story planned out yet, it just comes to me as I write, and it could be reflective of my state of mind, or it could be a decoy and actually it reflects my opposite state of being. To not know where the story might take me or you is why I actually chose to reveal it in parts... Every time i write up a section i will follow it through by indicating in the title that this is Summer Kind of Love (2) - for the next part to the story. Hope you enjoy the read just as much as I enjoyed writing this (at 3am last night!).
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Weddings were never the place she thought she would meet anyone. But then again she never thought that high school musicals would be the place where she first fell in love.
That night she made no extra effort to look exotic. Her dress was a simple drape of pink satin, her face radiant with glossy lips, and her hair fell carelessly on her tanned and bare shoulders. Her necklace, a rainbow of semi precious stones, sparkled just enough to create an aura of majesty. She was like a simple daisy flower amidst a garden of blooming roses. But he noticed her.
The decorated garden was electrified with love, bliss and the happily ever after type romance tales. The story of how the bride and groom met was alone a heart warming story for their children to recount to their own one day. She was content with her decision to come after all. She wasn’t here to display her naked ring finger and look for her own “… and this is how we met story”, she was there to just enjoy the atmosphere and drink a couple of champagne glasses.
She pranced her way to the table with old familiar faces. She glanced around the table to make sure she greeted each familiar face with a suitable gesture, and to those new faces she revealed a simple smile; not too indulgent, yet not too reserved, just enough to show off her intent of having a delightful evening.
He looked up as he was taking a sip from his crystal short glass whiskey on the rocks and he saw this pretty in pink young lady, she was talking to his friend sitting across the table from him. He kept stealing glimpses at this petite creature in between the orchid centerpiece that towered over the table like a white skyscraper over the New York City landscape. As she spoke he noticed her radiant smile and how effortlessly beautiful she looked; compared to all the "Hollywood Red Carpet" show stopping dresses some of the other ladies were wearing she looked refreshingly organic. She looked in his direction, but he knew how to keep his cool, he always knew how to keep his cool around the ladies.
"Philip, I'd like you to meet Sarah, an old college friend of mine." She now looked directly at him, lifted her right hand up to acknowledge her new acquaintance, he put down his glass pulled himself out of his chair and brushed down his black suit jacket, “Sarah, a pleasure” he said with a brazen tone, slightly bowing like a gentlemen from the 18th century would bow before leading his lady into their first dance of the evening.
She noticed him eyeing her as she was catching up with an old college classmate; silently she felt like she had to exaggerate her smile and her laugh and toss her hair left and right, but she refrained from acting like a peacock revealing their kaleidoscope of colored feathers before a potential mate.
“The pleasure is all mine Philip. Gentlemen, enjoy your evening.” with that she twirled around, carrying her glass of champagne with one hand and the tail of her pink canvas that wrapped around her size four figure in the other and she continued her rounds of social greetings.
As the evening pressed on the crowd got louder, the music got jazzier and the starlit sky was jolted by flashing camera lights as people were posing in their trimmed suits and embellished gowns to turn these moments into souvenirs. The music suddenly died down as a voice boomed through the speakers, it was the groom’s best man. He was ready to deliver the best man’s speech, probably ready to share some embarrassing stories about the newly weds. He talked about how Roy and Layla used to escape from their parents, who were at first against the idea of young love, and how they persevered and fought because they believed their love was worth the fight. The bride’s sister spoke after, and you could hear her choking back tears as she congratulated the young couple and wished them everlasting happiness. The groom took the microphone, thanked everyone for attending, and thanked the speakers for their respective speeches; he then motioned towards his bride with an indelible smile painted across his face and a trickle of sweat dripping down his sideburns from all the dancing (and probably nerves) and dropped down on one knee in front of her, as if replicating scenes from his proposal. She looked immaculate in her off the shoulder delicately laced wedding gown and her two meter long veil that was topped off with a dazzling tiara, she gracefully placed her hands in his as he looked up into her dazzling chestnut eyes, squeezed her hands tightly and said, “Every thought I have ends with you, and I don’t want to only show you the world I want to bring it into the palm of your hands. You’re my eternal light Layla, you’re the moon in my sky.” Goosebumps were sent up and down Sarah’s spine, she couldn’t help but find herself awing and fighting back tears of joy, she loved love, and she loved the celebration of love and all the magic that it could bring. She glanced over at Mr. Enchanting, (that’s what she decided to call him) and their eyes connected, she couldn’t help but over extend her smile and raise her refilled glass of Moet saluting him, and he raised his glass back. He motioned her to come over, and to sit in the empty seat to his right, she took another sip of her champagne, placed it on the top of the tray a waiter was carrying and stepped towards his table.
He couldn’t peal his eyes away from her; there was a refreshing air of innocence she basked in that made her all the more attractive. She was inching closer to him, and he suddenly felt stifled for words, this was unusual, usually his words never fail him, especially when it comes to first time impressions. As she was a mere step away from him, he stood up to pull out the chair for her. She brushed against him and her perfume heighted his olfactory senses, she smelled just as she looked, refreshing yet playfully sexy. “I saved you this seat my lady,” he said as he helped her tuck the chair closer to the table, “Only a lady be deserving to sit next to a gentleman like myself.” She smiled with a slight chuckle, it was either because she was amusing him or amused by him. Either way he returned to his seat, pulled it closer to hers, and then asked her if she would like another glass of champagne.
“Are you sure this seat is not taken? I mean the entrée is coming soon, and I am pretty sure he, or she, or whoever was sitting here wants to enjoy their meal seated.”
“He, is not coming back. My friend always walks around doing his rounds of social duties. He’s probably sitting somewhere already half way into the entrée.”
She glanced back to the table where she was sitting with family. Her mother was too busy gossiping with friends, probably about how horrible someone’s dress was, her sister was already flirting with five or six men, and her cousin cutting away at his dinner plate in a preppy boarding school decorum.
“Langouste ou filet mignon mademoiselle?” came a voice from over shoulder her shoulder. She tilted her head an inch and saw the half bent maitre awaiting her response,
“Oh la la, les deux sont delicieux… Le filet mignon, bien cuit.”
“Et pour vous Monsieur?”
As the maitre turned to the young man seated to her left,
“La meme chose de cette belle demoiselle.”
“Bon choix”
“So you are not one of those vegetarians I take it?” he joked
“Well I am sort of trying this new carnivore thing, figured be the opposite and just eat all kinds of meat…” She always knew how to add a playful twist to any comment that was thrown her way.
“Well there is nothing like a lady who enjoys her meat.”
She couldn’t figure whether or not to continue this flirtatious rapport, but before she even had the chance to change topics he interrupted her thoughts,
“So from the look of it you are from the groom’s side of the family.”
She looked at him for the first time with an intention to try and figure him out. She was usually good at first impressions and at reading people; their body language, their conversation manners; the level of eye contact. His light brown hair was perfectly jelled back, she knew on any other day he would wear his hair this way, he just looked like one of those guys who woke up in time to pamper himself before work and to look ready to pounce on the next approaching female quarry. His five o’clock shave was trimmed in the right way accentuating his masculine jaw line. He was eye-candy, and he knew it. He was probably cocky, a single child to divorced parents, possibly went to boarding school, perhaps in Switzerland? He was probably a banker or consultant, worked long hours and probably worked longer nights at clubs and bars. His broad shoulders and slim figure only signaled that he works out at the gym at least three times a week, probably with a personal trainer. He probably had a dog at home, a pit-bull called Rover, or Stallion, or something just as stereotypical. She quickly profiled him, but brushed off the idea because all those thoughts turned her off. She hoped he would surprise her by being the reincarnated Jim Morrison. She decided to give him a less superficial profiling, instead of just looking at him tryinn to understand him. What interested her most about this Mr. Enchanting was the intensity in which his eyes looked back at her. She believed they secretly revealed his past; the hurt, the love, the anguish and the desire they once faced. His eyes were like a pair of radiant emerald gemstones; an intense bright green of new spring grass, yet transparent with a soft glow. They were playful yet mischievous, lively and flirtatious. She could instantly tell he was a charmer by the way he ensured that her eyes were mesmerized by his own. He knew what he was doing, and how to say all the right things to all those girls who were probably just as mesmerized. Secretly she was indulged, but she gave no hints or evidence of her interest in being charmed.
“Yes, I am actually from the groom’s side. Well then I see you aren’t a man who asks questions, you make concrete statements. Are you always this sure of yourself?”
"Well, other than the fact that I am from the bride's side of the family, actually her first cousin, and given that I am extremely well acquainted with my side of the family, yes I guess that would only mean that you are from the groom's side. It's not self assurance, it's logic, simple rules of deduction, nothing more, nothing less."
"Aha, well then I do apologize for having concluded that you are a self assured man, you are just as good as Sherlock Holmes at making quick astute observations, and quickly running through a series of possible assumptions only finally to come to a solid conclusion based on deductive reasoning. Chapeau Monsieur Philip” she said with a playful French accent.
“Excuzes-moi, votre entrées” came the voice of the waiter that had taken their order moments earlier. He placed the hot plate in front of Sarah on the intricately rim crocheted plate mat that fell in unison with the rest of the table decorations; everything was well planned out, from the chair skirts to the decorations that hung from the trees that lined the circumference of the garden, and she appreciated the detail and thought that went into making this wedding a delightful and unforgettable summer wedding. June was always Sarah’s favorite month of year, and the first week of the June in Paris so far has been nothing but pure indulgence in fine French wine and cuisine, pain au chocolat, shopping and of course site seeing. This wasn’t her first time in Paris, she had visited it multiple times before, but this time Paris had a different vibe to it.
“Bon appétit belle Sarah”
“Bon appétit Philippe”
As the evening eased along, so did their conversation. The champagne and whiskey played its role in facilitating flirtatious comments and questions, but there was definite chemistry. She excited him with her intelligence, attractiveness and somewhat quirky personality. He enticed her with his charm, wit, and striking good looks. When they danced their bodies were in sync; he would maneuver her body elegantly across the dance floor clearly leading and fully in control, dipping her, twirling her, drawing her close to his body and pushing her away. They consumed the dance floor as the live band played classics from the Rat Pack. As the guests dwindled, and the women started complaining from their uncomfortable six inch heels, Sarah and Philip were still laughing, drinking and singing along to "You're No Body Till Somebody Loves You".
