On a crowded B train this morning, I had a weird feeling that someone was watching me. I nonchalantly glanced around and was met with the intense gaze of a tall, handsome man standing about six people away. I thought he’d look elsewhere, as most folks do when they are caught staring at someone, but instead, he grinned. His eyes glowed, and deep dimples framed his perfect, kissable mouth. I melted. And for the duration of the train ride, we traded flirty smiles and goofy expressions of exasperation when the train conductor made announcements about train traffic ahead. At one point, he even scratched his bushy, thick beard with his sexy fingers and winked at me!
Oh, the things I’d do to That Beard! It’s funny how something like a full beard can trigger an avalanche of fantasies. That Beard gently nuzzling my neck as we cuddled on a lazy Sunday morning. That Beard eagerly nuzzling my [redacted] as we [redacted] on a steamy summer night. That Beard in a sweat-drenched tank top, spotting me at the gym. That Beard in a spiffy tailored suit, looking at me across a romantic candlelit table.
My flood of fantasies came to an abrupt stop when the subway doors chimed open, and That Beard pushed through the cramped crowd to exit the train. And just as he pressed his way past me, he smiled again and seductively raised an eyebrow. Lord, That Beard was literally a couple of inches away from my face, so I deeply inhaled, thirstily gulping in his scent, a mesmerizing mixture of weed and sandalwood. If I could have instantly miniaturized myself, I would have jumped into That Beard and nestled there all day. Naked.
I tried to muster up the courage to say something, but I was frozen, at a loss for words. Just as I thought I had lost my chance, I felt a sudden tug on my backpack. I looked down and saw that the cord of That Beard’s headphones had snagged on a backpack buckle. Racing against time, That Beard desperately tried to shake the wire loose before the door closed, and to assist, I frantically waved my backpack in his direction. It finally broke free, and we stood there for a moment giggling, me still on the train and That Beard on the platform. “Hey, I’m Zeke,” he said. Of course, That Beard would have a super cool name. “Hi,” said, catching my breath. “I’m —“
DING DING! That Beard couldn’t hear me say my name over the chiming doors. He furrowed his brow and leaned in for me to repeat my name, but by then, the subway doors had closed. As the train slowly inched forward, Zeke waved, and his dimpled face slid into an adorable pout. I breathlessly slumped against a pole and shook my head. As the rattling train loudly careened into the darkness of the tunnel, I wondered if I’d ever see That Beard again.