His eyes are piercing, so focused. He doesn’t blink. He looks into the depths of your soul as if he knows every little secret. It’s almost as though he sees right through you. He sees the way you vacillate between your choices, the way you pretend to be so damn sure of yourself while toting your cute work satchel, walking up the stairs to your cubicle in your very sensible heels. Your fake-it-til-you-make-it game is strong, but he pokes holes through your facade.
He has twenty years on you. While he lets you think you’re making all of the rules and setting the pace of this unfolding game you’re playing with him through flirty emails and work lunches that hint at something more, the truth is, he has you figured out. As frustrating as this is, to constantly be one step behind a man who appears to consistently make power plays, it’s thrilling. Because each time you attempt to outsmart him, you wonder what it would feel like to surrender. You’re curious. You want to know what would happen if you suspended all logic and let him call the shots. How would it feel to let him show you tonight what it will take men your age years to master? Because the truth is, deep down inside, not only do you want him, you want to be him. You watch the way he wields his power in his corner office on the floor above you and wonder, “What does it feel like to be so confident, so sure?”
You look at those delicate flecks of gray in his beard, betraying his very youthful eyes and smile, and picture him doing very adult and very naughty things to you. The rational, safe girl you’ve always been is slowly being eclipsed by the daring woman you think you want to become.
And then you remember: his daughter could practically be your sister, as you’re just a mere nine years apart in age. And even though he claims his relationship with his wife is strained, he is still very married, albeit unhappily. If you wanted something more (and you can already tell you would – those hands indicate that this man has all of the right weaponry), you could not have it. Because the fact of the matter is, affairs are ugly, divorces are messy, and eventually, you’ll get tired of only being able to call and text him during designated hours. There would be no picking up takeout, enjoying his company without restrictions, and lazily waking up to each other in the morning. He made his choices, he made his commitments, well before you were even old enough to legally drink.
So here you are, stopping this budding attraction before it goes too far, because you know that in the end, it’s you, the potential young mistress, who will lose. And while this small remnant of power is satisfying, the fantasy is always more compelling.
Originally posted on From A Wildflower