She

Excuses don't matter, only the results.

Have you ever had the mad urge to touch the beautiful woman's hair in front of you?

Have you ever wanted to follow a heart-swaying beauty all day, just watching her walk gracefully?

Have you ever looked into the eyes of your loved one and were done with the world, lost in a world of worship and wonder?

Encore….

The woman glided, literally glided across the floor. Her perfectly symmetrical, curvilicious body, accentuated by the tight sleeveless muscle shirt, making an impression on all the people around her. She isn't muscular enough for a muscle t-shirt but those delicately carved, soft, spotless body features effused a sense of feminine brilliance that's hard to ignore for the opposite sex. She glided along like Venus, laughing inwardly, with assured calmness on face masking the bombastic sensation of pleasure- admiring, admitting, yet ignoring all the appreciative glances, discreet and dangerous feminine cachet. Her thin waistline looked like a sweet paradox to those wide swaying hips, creating a vibration, creating a resonance out of both the air molecules and the male heartbeats. With every step she took, a head would turn, conquering the sense of decency and leaving the victim in a daze of dazzled damnation; urging him to go insane, connive against conventions and collapse in front of her; crave for just one touch of that soft ethereal substance that looked so ephemeral. Like hot fudge on a chocolate ice cream, her torso and chest, perfectly shaped and ponderous, left everyone in her wake with an exclamation (of pure joy, in completely abstract sense).

What's a banana split without whipped cream!

The face! I wish I were Tennyson.

Face (or the eyes) is the gateway to heart. And that face sure is a gateway to anybody's heart. With a skin vibrating healthiness so vividly; engendering a fear that a little touch from anyone would pollute its purity, she cast a look around. The two darks eyes set so beautifully in their niche seemed to have a language of their own; exuding a fresh aroma of fullness that spoke of beauty, paradise and fulfillment. If the two dark eyes were the jewels in the crown, the full, red lips were like the crown's crowning achievements, inviting; instigating and pervading a mad rush of magnetism through the body, sending pangs of electric signals inciting the brain to indulge in a mouth to mouth ritual. The red full lips and the dark deadly eyes were topped by the cherry on the cream, a big creamy forehead that was a like serrated coastline with splendid, serene waves of hair drifting off into nothingness that was at once alluring and unreachable.

I met her eyes and for once lost my breath; and I held my breath, trying not to miss that moment of electric beauty's radiance; held my breath to manage that magnificence messing my manhood. Praying, in some lost world of consciousness, to a higher being, for creating a perfect piece of art, love and emotion…

I kneeled before her.

People don't matter, only the ideas.