Guest Beanie Posted September 28, 2005 Report Share Posted September 28, 2005 I have started a thread in the feedback section for any commets you GALS have. We have found in the over 18 section that we all talk WAY too much between posts and it gets a bit distracting! So any comments etc that you have, please post them in the feedback thread. Thanks It has been requested that I post this at the beginning of every new volume. So I have obliged. As your Site Administrator I need to make this very clear. GALS DISCLAIMER: Gerard James Butler is NOT, I repeat, NOT Ethan (who started out with no last name, but has been since dubbed Ethan Morgan). Any resemblance Ethan may have to Gerard James Butler is PURELY coincidental. This story is FICTION: fic·tion ( P ) Pronunciation Key n. 1. An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. A The act of inventing such a creation or pretense. - A lie. 2. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact. 3. The category of literature comprising works of this kind, including novels and short stories. For those who find themselves in love with this purely fictitious character, our help line will be available 24 hours a day to ease you gently back into reality. Thank you for your kind attention. You may now resume your delusional activities. Dr. Em And now, our story.... RushAndGerryFan She stood in front of the mirror, contemplating the day’s events. She brushed out her long blonde hair and thought for a moment, of the gorgeous stranger, who had stood near her in the elevator of her apartment building this afternoon. She had crushed on him for so long now, and despite her friends' urgings, she couldn't bring herself to ask him out. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome in that cliché way, yet so uniquely beautiful in his own right, he hadn't even the courage to ask his name. Yet he'd known hers! They had both reached for the "Up" button in the elevator at exactly the same instant, and his voice, thick with Scottish accent had laughed, musically and apologetically, "Sorry there, Miss Arielle..." He'd winked at her, and through those thick dark lashes his green eyes had met with hers and from then on she was toast! She sighed, and thought of his arms around her, and thought she'd better either take a cold shower, or call one of her girls. This was unlike her, to be thinking about a total stranger, but he had been perfect! A perfect stranger....and she still didn't even know his name, drat her for not asking, and him for not properly introducing himself. Semmsb Charlotte prepared for bed. As she brushed her teeth, the strangers green eyes danced in front of her face again. She had never seen eyes quite like it…. deep and soulful. Eyes you could drown in. She snuggled under the covers, and again thought of the perfect stranger. As she drifted into sleep, that voice purred to her “Sorry there, Miss Arielle..." once again. The next morning Charlotte was running late for work. She’d slept in, after dreaming of those eyes all night. Reluctant to let go of her dreams, she’d slept through the alarm. “s**t, s**t, s**t” she muttered as she scurried around her apartment, trying to find keys and hurriedly putting on make-up. She grabbed a piece of toast, and ran out the door. Waiting for the elevator, she started to get impatient. What was the delay? Charlotte checked her watch again, and started to tap her foot. Her boss was going to be less than pleased when she was late. As the display above the lift showed her floor, she muttered “Finally. “ The doors opened, and who should be standing in front of her, but him, the perfect stranger. Charlotte nearly choked on the last of the toast that she was munching. She coughed until her eyes watered and hurriedly stepped into the elevator. The stranger looked concerned, “OK?” he said, and thumped her on the back several times. Charlotte turned even redder. Her ears burned with embarrassment. “Fine” she croaked. He grinned a beautiful, slightly crooked grin, and said “Good” in that wonderful accent. Then, as if he knew it would be her undoing, he winked at her. Charlotte blushed, yet again. The lift doors closed, and they were alone together. Charlotte closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. The small space that the two of them were sharing seemed to be filled with the stranger’s scent. It was heady, a mix of spices, and what seemed like pure pheromones. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her, with a mischievous grin. “I know what you’re thinking” he seemed to be saying. Charlotte looked at the floor. This seemed to be the longest elevator ride ever. Finally, the lift stopped, and the doors open. The stranger gestured, “after you” he said. Rushandgerryfan Charlotte exited the elevator with mixed emotions. With baited breath on one side, she anxiously fought against turning her head back to stare at him, but the more rational part of her did not want to appear to be desperate, or worse as if she were ogling him. But, to her astonishment, he grinned at her, the smile lines in his eyes deepening, as if he knew some sweet little secret, and said, "Oh, your getting off here? This is my stop too this morning, going to see a mate of mine for coffee downtown." He raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Care to join me?" silently to her. Charlotte thought she could hear her very heartbeat, despite the bustle of other passerbyes going on and off the elevator as she stood there for a few full seconds, contemplating what she was going to say to him next. "What the heck?" she thought to herself, and she smiled back at him, his eyes appearing even more greener by the moment.... Stagewomanjen "Coffee?", she managed to stammer, despite her flustered state. He grinned amusedly, "Yeah, coffee", he muttered, "do you drink coffee?" Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. "Yes, I do. Who's this mate of yours?" "A friend from school", he returned. He seemed to hesitate, but added, "would you like to come and meet him?" She too hesistated, considering, trying desperately to sound calm even though she wanted to squeak with delight, "Uh, yeah, sure. I can juggle some things at work," knowing that she was already late, but suddenly not caring. She looked momentarily down at her shoes, but couldn't help returning his infectious grin when she looked back in his eyes. He shuffled side to side, then moved a few steps closer to her. "Good. You'll like him. And the coffee, too", he said. "Want to catch a taxi with me?" Again, her heart raced. The thought of sharing closer space with this man, who was already fogging her brain with his incredibly sexy, musky scent, made her a bit nervous. But she couldn't refuse....not without seeming obtuse. At the same time she would have ample opportunity to gaze at him without feeling guilty for stealing furtive glances and then looking down. Her cheeks burned red at the thought of all the looks he had caught her in before. "Sure. A taxi would be nice, these shoes aren't the most comfortable". He held the door for her as they entered onto the street and hailed the cab, holding the door once again for her to slide over onto the seat. As he folded his tall frame into the cab, another whiff of his intoxicating cologne wafted to her nostrils, and his big knee and thigh brushed heavily against hers. "Sorry", he muttered, "I'm a big clumsy guy". She grinned, "No, no, you're not. Not at all." And they were both glad for the mutual smile and a topic for conversation on their short ride to the coffee shop. Semmsb On the way, Charlotte wondered what the heck she was doing. This was totally unlike her. How did she end up in a cab, going for coffee with this stranger, and one of his friends? She shook her head and busily thought of excuses she could give to her boss. After about 3 minutes, the stranger turned to her, a small grin quirking up the corner of one side of his delicious mouth. “My name is Ethan, by the way” he said. Charlotte nodded, and when he looked expectantly at her, blushed again and said “Oh, sorry, Charlotte." Ethan smiled and held his hand out. “Nice to meet you” he said, his beautiful Scottish accent soft and inviting. Charlotte grabbed his outstretched hand and shook it. It was warm, and ever so slightly rough. Ethan seemed to hold on for just a fraction too long. When he released her, Charlotte’s hand was tingling. The feeling seemed to travel up her arm, and throughout her body. “Don’t you already know my name, anyway?” she asked him boldly. After all, that voice repeating “Sorry there, Miss Arielle..." is what had kept her awake for the greater part of last night. Ethan ginned widely. “Well, I know your last name." he said “But not your first name.“ Charlotte looked confused. “How do you know my name at all?” she said. Ethan grinned again, his teeth white against his tanned cheek. He had the good grace to look just a little embarrassed. “I peeked at your mailbox,” he admitted. It was his turn to blush. Charlotte laughed. “A regular Sherlock Holmes,“ she said. Ethan smiled again. The cab began to slow, and Charlotte prepared to hop out. She opened her bag to search for her purse for cab fare, but Ethan already had his wallet out, giving to driver a few notes. Charlotte offered him some money. He shook his head, and said, “It’s on me.” Charlotte thanked him. Ethan opened the door on his side of the car, and scrambled out. As Charlotte was opening the door on her side, he walked around the cab, and held her door open. “So, manners as well as investigative skills” she quipped, and stepped out of the cab. Ethan touched an imaginary peaked cap on his head, and shut the door. As the cab pulled away, Charlotte said, “Well, thanks for the ride, but I really should be getting to work. My boss is going to kill me.“ Swansong "But we haven't had our coffee yet," Ethan replied, a look of disappointment flashing across his masculine features. With a dazzling grin, he barely brushed her arm with his fingertips, "And I'm a very broody guy without my morning caffeine!" The man stood there in his white button down shirt and torn jeans, his dark chest hair visible through the gaping buttons. Wavy dark hair framed his handsome face, his bow shaped lips impossible to ignore. He was tall, broad shouldered, well built and about the best looking guy she had ever seen. Who the heck was he anyway? And God, did he have to smell good too? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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