She/Her

Chapter 1

"Love at first sight is a myth, but only if you never met her."

Most betrayals occur in the dead of night, between a man and his member, usually in the presence of someone he finds wholesomely attractive. Such was my predicament on this very night. The lady in front of me was gorgeous, dressed in nothing but the pale moonlight that filtered in through my curtains. Only a fool would have deprived her of even a modicum of their attention. If this night was anything to go by; then I, Omar Gaston, was apparently foolish. I guess we learn new things about ourselves everyday. The lady's soft hands snaked across my body and into my white Calvin Klein's. Uh oh, I thought to myself. I knew she wasn't going to find what she was looking for. It didn't take long before her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed, she looked more shocked than disappointed; I guess when one looks as stunning as she did, one expects a certain physical reaction from men in bed. On any other night that may have been the case, but tonight my mind was elsewhere, hence my failure to give her the kind of undivided attention that beauty like hers demanded. For you to fully understand the reason for this phallic mishap, I would have to explain a few events from the weeks that preceded it.
I get up every morning at exactly 8 a.m then go through the banal routine of getting ready: gym, breakfast and so forth. This Wednesday wasn't any different. I got in my car, a white model 3 Tesla, and drove to work. Yes, I drive electric, but not for the reasons most of you may think. I drive electric because they have double the amount of trunk space, which I may need if my murderous urges get out of control and end up with two dead bodies instead of my usual one. I'm kidding. That was a joke, a bad one albeit, but a joke nonetheless. I'm not a serial killer I promise. The real reason I drive electric, Teslas to be specific, is because they look sexy with me in them.
I parked in front of a jewelry store with a golden sign that read, Pierres de Gaston. It was the fancy kind with glass walls, glass doors and enough security to give any thief a severe headache, or a concussion, depending on how bold a thief they were. I work here a few days a week and have owned the place for the better part of nine years. My duties mostly include dealing with high level clients or seeing to customers who seem to enjoy making absurd requests or asking evidently foolish questions, right before demanding to see 'whoever was in charge', ergo me.
I made my way into the building and up the stairs to my office, nodding and smiling in response to my staff's greetings along the way. Before long, one such absurd request was brought to my attention. A phone call came in from Tiffanie, one of the nicer clerks that keeps me rich, I answered. "Sir, someone is here requesting a refund on an engagement ring," she said in a frustrated tone. You would have had to be a special kind of asshole to frustrate the ever jovial Tiffanie. "Tell them we don't do refunds thirty days past the day of initial purchase," I said . "I already did Sir, she says she wants to speak to whoever is in charge." Great, just great. "Send her up," I muttered with a not so subtle hint of indignation in my voice. I repositioned myself in my leather chair, leaned on the sturdy oak table in front of me and checked the time on my Cartier Cloche, 1;08 p.m. I planned to be done with the whole ordeal in about five minutes at most. A series of knocks sounded on my door. I responded with a " Come in." Two people walked inside my office, one in front of the other. The first one in was Tiffanie, the other was a woman dressed in a silk black dress. Now, there are different kinds of beauty. There is the subtle kind that everyone has in varying degrees. There is the rare sort,  the kind you see on super models and princesses of countries you can't pronounce. Then there is a third kind, which I like to refer to as 'The full stop'. There is simply no other way to describe it. It's just, the end. Superlative beauty. Where all the other kinds of beauty are like commas; making you pause a bit, before releasing you, this kind simply makes you stop. It makes your thoughts stop. Your heart, your breathing, your tongue; it makes them all stop and everything else becomes a blurry afterthought. Such was the beauty of the second being that had walked into my office. I stared for more seconds than was proper, mouth ajar. From the corner of my eye, I could vaguely make out a pair lips moving. It took a further ten seconds for my brain to register that I was being asked a question. "May I be excused sir?" "Yes, yes you may," I all but blurted out; my tongue was still coming out of its beauty induced coma. Tiffanie left the office. My eyes briefly glanced at my watch, 1:11 p.m, so much for getting done in five minutes. I looked back to the eyes of the woman I had been mercilessly staring at just a few moments before; my heartbeat upped its tempo, I was so sure she could hear it from where she stood, my hands started to get damp with sweat and all I could think to say was "Uh..Are you still engaged?" She smiled. If I had thought she couldn't look more stunning, I couldn't have been more wrong. Her smile was beautiful, profoundly so. "Well, that depends. Would it be possible to get a refund?", she replied.  I smiled back. Under normal circumstances, a refund wouldn't be possible, but she had the kind of face that exceptions could be made for. "Have a seat," I said still smiling, in a bid to maintain a patina of professionalism,"I'm sorry Miss.." I paused, waiting for name. "Jasmine", she said. My tirade of professionalism continued, "I'm sorry Miss Jasmine, but I believe your ring was purchased over 30 days ago is that correct?". These were all questions I had the answers to. I just wanted to keep her talking. She looked pretty when she talked. "Yes, I know it's past the thirty day return period, but isn't there something you could do Mister...?", she paused, waiting for my name this time. Taking a page from my book I see, I thought to myself. My face remained pensive but on the inside I was all smiles. "Gaston. Omar Gaston," I offered. "Well Mr. Omar Gas-tonne,"she said, mispronouncing my last name,"Isn't there something you could do?". There was. "Well, what I could do is give you store credits worth half the cost of the ring. Would that be okay with you Miss Jasmine?" I hoped she said yes, that way she would have to come back into the store. It was the only way I could be sure I would see her again. She sighed with a look of resignation on her face, somehow managing to make sighing look picturesque."Fine, that could work for me as well." The smile I was holding in forced its way onto my lips. She returned my excited smile with a tired one. "Is there anything else I could do for you?". she shook her head, gave me her thanks then stood up to leave. "Well if you need anything else don't hesitate to ask Tiffanie, she seems to have taken a liking to you." My words were laced with sarcasm. Jasmine gave me another one of her beautiful, tired smiles. At that point I wanted to ask for her number or ask her out to dinner, but that would've been in bad taste. The woman was there to return an engagement ring for Christ's sake.In addition to that, it's always a terrible idea to mix business with pleasure. I have nine years worth of experience under my belt to prove it. I watched her leave, she paused for a moment , turned to wave goodbye, then she was out the door. It's been three weeks since I last saw her.
After our encounter that Wednesday, I made sure to come to work everyday for the next two weeks, hoping to catch a glimpse of her long black hair or get a whiff of her perfume, to no avail. I was beginning to lose all hope of ever seeing her again. However, earlier this evening, during dinner with the lovely lady who was currently lying in my bed, I received a message from Tiffanie that read : "That lady you told me to keep an eye out for , I think her name was Jasmine, anyway she called and asked what time we close tomorrow. Just thought you might want to know." I immediately made a mental note to give Tiff a raise. All through dinner , into the rest of the night and even up until this very moment, my mind was on Jasmine.  That should explain why my body was so unresponsive tonight, my mind was too occupied to focus on present delights. I apologized for being a terrible host to the guest in my bed. She got up and started to get dressed. A while later she sighed and said, "Seeing as you sell diamonds, I expected you to know that the best kind of jewels should be hard and solid, not soft and floppy." She was kidding. It was a joke, albeit a bad one, but a joke nonetheless. I guess I don't own a monopoly on making bad jokes. I smiled, it was my default response to most things.  "If you ever get over her, whoever she is, give me a call." She made that last statement with a hint of hopefulness in her voice, then excused herself. After a few moments had passed, her car engine roared to life, I heard the car pull away from my driveway. I felt bad for wasting her time, but the feeling was swiftly replaced by the excitement I felt at the possibility of meeting Jasmine again. The rest of the night was spent dreaming about the following day.
Love at first sight may be a myth, but whoever said that, obviously never met Jasmine.