"Your smile each morning has made my day all week. I am very attracted to the body you live in
and there is something about your presence that makes me want to know who you are when you're not just standing there waiting for me to make your omelette. The morning you wore your glasses down here instead of your contacts made me giggle inside and wonder what you look like when you wake up. Hi, my name is Daemon. I'm the one who cooks your breakfast."
My brain and mouth locked up completely and none of those words came out. I just stood there politely and quietly and asked him what he would like this morning. I've been in crush for the past five days. He stands there impossibly cute and intriguing and I am just a chef with a pan in my hand doing my best to take him all in while studiously avoiding eye contact. Only real attraction ever leaves me at a loss for words. Lust is easy to speak or bark of. This is something else. How can he effect me so? If this was a movie, this is where happy energetic music would start then I would say something incredibly witty and the plot would start rolling. He would smile, throw back his head and laugh then I would invite him for coffee after I get off work. He would agree with a curious look and leave me his number...
This isn't a movie.
This isn't a movie.
And so I cook his eggs. I wish him a nice day. I stare at the back of his neck as he eats his breakfast and plays with his phone. I ask Jen at the front desk what his name is. She tells me. I smile.
He's a member of the White House Advance Team staying at our property this week in preparation for the President's visit. From his conversation with peers, his manner and dress, he appears to be a political science guy with great and eclectic taste in clothing and a brain that would stun a crowd. He looks scruffy in his work out clothes on his day off. His running shoes had a hole in the left toe. Red shorts look incredibly hot on those legs and ass. I could get lost in those eyes and that smile makes me stop breathing. He will leave when the team goes on, back to whatever strange, interesting and exciting world he lives in and has made for himself. The mysterious guy close to the seat of power and information, with a beautiful wink and a smile. I know he is on our team too but I can't even seem to communicate that with my eyes. Three more days and he will be gone.
I'll still be a chef, standing here with a pan in my hand, cooking breakfast for another slowly waking traveler. I'll be wondering where he is. I'll be wishing about who he was.
A guy can dream, right?