Nice and Slow. Maude E. Grider

had seen on this side of the Mississippi River, or any other side of the Mississippi River. She was deliciously tantalizing and he wanted to reach out and touch her to make sure she was real.

      Jasmine lowered her gaze in an attempt to repel the ferocity of his eyes. Her entire body suddenly felt hot as if she had contracted a fever. Her consciousness continued to be surrounded in confusion. She was desperately striving to get a handle on how she found herself in this unprecedented situation.

      His gaze raked over her once again from her crop of expertly cut hair, longer on the left of her face, to her beautiful face, past her perky breasts to her tiny waist, to her well-rounded hips and a gorgeous pair of legs. Never had he been so completely slammed by a woman at first sight. He broke the silence first. “You walked into my car”, he said casually, with a wry grin on his face. His voice was deep, inviting and seductive as his mysterious black eyes locked onto her deep brown eyes.

      She felt the heat rise from her toes to the top of her head. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She couldn't breathe. Still perplexed but attempting to gain control of this situation, she inhaled deeply and responded in her sweet, sexy, babyish voice. “Forgive me, sir. I am so sorry for not watching where I was going. I really should be more careful. Just a couple of days ago my rear end backed into a rider on a bicycle and knocked him to the ground.” She stopped talking, realizing how silly she must sound after making such a ridiculous statement.

      Paul dropped his head so she wouldn't see him laughing, imagining her exquisitely-shaped behind toppling a bicycle.

      “Don't apologize,” Paul said seductively. “Actually, I saw you standing here and drove up purposefully to block your path. That was easy to do since you were so intense in whatever it was you that had you looking down. I thought you would look up and see my car coming toward you but you never did. Whatever had your attention must have been very important. You really should be more cautious when you are walking in areas like this.”

      Jasmine’s attention pivoted from admiration to lucid annoyance toward the handsome stranger. She gazed sternly into his mystical coal black eyes, hoping her evil-eye look transferred to him her disapproval of his comments. If her disapproving look was meant to deter his sexist quips it didn't work.

      “You are the prettiest size ten living doll I have seen all year and you were so intense in what you were thinking about it would have been very easy to sweep you away. Fortunately for you, I am a perfect gentleman and not that kind of person, but I would like to get to know you. How old are you?” A lazy smile creased his lips. He lifted his eyebrows while licking his lips with his moistened tongue.

      Her face got hot. She needed air. Her mouth felt dry. She opened her mouth and willed herself to speak. “Eighteen,” she said flippantly, trying to minimize the uncomfortable feeling she was experiencing from her face down to her toes from him staring at her.

      His eyebrows shot up and his dark eyes widened. Taken aback at her stated age he swallowed hard to mask his surprise. His eyes raked her over up and down several times before he spoke again. He recognized a semblance of innocence in her face but her killer body was telling a different story. Disbelieving what he had just heard and annoyed, thinking she was pretending to be so young he frowned sternly at her. “Are you really eighteen, or is that what you say when you perceive someone is being a nuisance to you and you want to brush them off?” He estimated her age to be at least twenty-one.

      She flipped her head backwards, allowing her hair to swing around her pretty face, and laughed with confidence. “Honestly, I am eighteen. Today is my birthday and I have my driving license to prove it.” She reached in her purse and produced her license and proudly passed it to the handsome stranger with her tiny hands. He took it unhesitatingly, gazed at it, then at her. He feasted his eyes back at her lovely face with a much softer look. “Well, Miss Jasmine Johns, 'Happy Birthday' to you.”

      Red light! He should keep it moving right now but he had been instantly captivated by her beauty and poise. Scanning her ripe curves, he had to stop his tongue from falling out of his mouth. She had a body made for loving. He could not recall encountering an eighteen year old female looking like her anywhere, ever. Never had he experienced a strong sexual attraction this quick, immediate and deep before to any woman of any age!

      “You look fantastic and you articulate your words so well it is hard to believe you are so young. My name is Paul Shelton, but everyone calls me 'Candy'. I am the owner of the 'Soul Haven Restaurant' near here. Perhaps you have heard of it or know of the location.”

      A gigantic smile appeared on her beautiful face. “Hi, Mr. Paul 'Candy' Shelton. I am pleased to meet you, and I am vaguely aware of the existence of your restaurant but I have never been there.” Feeling empowered to be flippant, she arched her eyebrows and retorted confidently: “How old are you?”

      Amused by her bodacious reply, he locked eyes with hers in a juvenile stare-down. He presented her license back to her, but when she gripped them he continued to hold onto them. “How old do you think I am?”

      She frowned and looked at him and studied his features. His eyes were dark and unreadable as if he was wearing sunglasses. He was extremely handsome and apparently intelligent. “Well, I would guess around twenty-six or twenty-seven.”

      He smiled and thought about allowing her to think he was in his twenties. But he was not one who liked to deceive. It could only cause problems later. “I am thirty-two, but it is not my birthday”, he answered softly. Unable to read her nonchalant expression, he grinned shyly. “May I call you?” Waiting for a response, he watched her, fascinated, as her little pink tongue moved slowly over her bottom lip. The sight of her tongue sent a warm sensation through his body.

      She pulled in a deep breath and the wheels in her brain began turning and trying to process this information. His age startled her. She imagined him being somewhere in his mid-twenties but thirty-two was a bit intimidating. Regardless of how old he actually was or was not, she was flattered this good looking man wanted her telephone number. Nevertheless, she was also a little skeptical about giving it to him. She was unsure of conversing with an older man on a personal level and it caused a bit of concern in her inquisitive mind.

      She gnawed on her bottom lip for a few moments. Had she not spent the last few years away from her small town and been exposed to a lot of friendly, outgoing people, she would have been petrified to talk to a man alone. But since the age of fifteen she had lived in an eastern town with a major state university and an all-male college. She had been around many male college students in Massachusetts so she felt comfortable in handling herself with older males. However, if this man was telling the truth, he was as old as some of her teachers. There were definitely some peculiar feelings emerging here that she had no experience in handling. 'How intriguing and scary.’

      She looked mysteriously at him holding onto her license and he perceived she was not amused with him not relinquishing her license back to her possession. Continuing to gaze into her eyes, he slowly released her license to her, but during the transfer he squeezed her hand and rubbed the back of it gently with his other hand. His stare unnerved her and breathing a sigh of relief her license was back in her possession she quickly returned it to her purse.

      She took a pen and pad from her purse. “Why don't I call you?” He stared lustfully at her for a moment, sighed deeply. “Okay.” My number is five-seven-eight-five-nine-nine-seven.” His eyes never veered away from her gorgeous body or beautiful face. She opened her beaded covered pink note pad which contain pale pink sheets of paper and wrote his telephone number with her matching pink beaded ink pen. She looked up from her pad and met his gaze.

      “What is your wife going to say about a young lady calling you?”

      He smiled, amused at her directness. “I am a businessman, so I get many calls all during the day and night. But don't worry, I am not married; I have never been married.”

      Her inquisitive antennae emerged. “Why not?” Her gaze raked over him once again.

      He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I have been too busy with my restaurant and some other businesses to find myself a significant other.” He felt she was too young to understand he