Flash: And so they meet again

Rating: Mature

Art peeked out the window of the clothing consignment shop where she worked as she flipped the open sign to close. Drat, the creep was still hanging outside. What had she done to earn her own personal stalker?

She had to admit he was absolutely yummy with his layered blond hair and kicking fog coat, like something out of an English fantasy. His cheekbones could cut bread. He also had the patience of a priest or demon.

She started noticing him in the audience during fencing competition her Freshman year. Art had asked around since he looked interesting, but he wasn’t from campus. Over the next two years, he would show up randomly in classes open to the public, at her favorite pizza joint, and sometimes at the action-adventure movies she loved. All he did was watch from a distance.

Then three weeks ago, the guy changed from someone she saw sometimes in a crowd to a constant presence. Enough was enough. The street was beginning to empty of holiday shoppers, but plenty were still around in case this went south. She closed and bolted the shop door, lowered the gate and locked it, shifted her carrying case, then turned to see he was still leaning against the building across the street.

After checking for traffic, she strode across the roadway taking advantage of the long legs her six foot two frame provided. Up close she discovered the man stood a disappointingly five eight; she had gotten good judging height and reach on the salle.

Crowding him against the wall, she asked “What do you want?”

The man raised black eyes to meet her piercing blue. They looked impossible knowledgeable in the young face. With a sad smile, he replied, “Your future.”

Taking a step back, the woman glanced around again to verify she was still safe in a crowd. “Well, you can’t have it, you perv.” Touching the sword case strapped to her back for courage, “And if I see you around again, I will call the cops.”

“A threat to use governmental structure. Excellent. Not unexpected from a political science major, but you are also a woman of action. I wasn’t certain which way you would go.” His shoulders pushed him away from the way and Art instinctively took another step back. Something about the man screamed power … and sex … she could feel her body getting loose as though she was about to fence or fall into bed with a teammate after a match. His English accent was to die for. “When you call the bobbies, please say my name is Emrys.”

“Do you got a last name so I can Google it and find out all the other women you stalked?”

He shrugged. Her mind instantly presented a picture of the wirely frame he had sported at the spring fair. He had worn cargo shorts and a muscle shirt. Not many muscles, but no excess fat either. A runner’s body. Unfortunately her mind provided the picture sans clothes. 

“First name, last name. I’ve had many names.” He started walking away backwards. “Gregory gave me the last name of Ambrosus; I guess that will do for now.” He turned around and she watched the wool coat getting damp as light flakes of snow melted on it. He stopped for a second. Turning his head around for a second, he said, “But then I guess I should say my first name is Merlinus.” He smiled a totally, ass-kicking, pussy-warming smile before continuing his retreat.

(Word 587 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 12/2/2012 (at least tried to, doesn’t seem to be taking); reprinted in new blog format 12/24/2017. The inspirational photo for the prompt was of unknown origin; since I could not verify the copyright, I am not posting it here.)