Then I noticed something startling. A tall blonde woman stood out from the crowd. Now, I don’t mean “tall” in the normal sense. I mean this chick was like seven feet tall and stood above the other people around her.
She got looks, smacks from wives, and other wary eyes. I blinked too. I saw she was wearing shoes, not heels, a red shimmery knee length dress. She was tight and toned and had an amazing rack.
Shit. Don’t change people when you’re horny. I gulped. What a stunning blonde. What an amazing giraffe.
Giraffe. Tall blonde.
Don’t do it! My subconscious screamed. Don’t you dare!
I watched the tall blonde throw her hair back as she caught a look from some guy in a sharp suit, and her smile melted my heart. She knew how good she looked. She knew how awesome she was.
“E-Excuse me!” I blurted, startled at myself.
The blonde turned and looked down on me at the bench, making me blush.
“Hmmm?” She blinked. “Do I know you?”
“Uh, no...” I began, nervously standing and feeling small next to the statuesque amazon. “But I was wondering if I could.”
She giggled merrily and shook her head. “Come on, you can do better than that, can’t you?”
I giggled, blushing. “Excuse me, my fine giraffe,” I smirked, chuckling at own terrible attempt to a goofy ‘refined’ accent. “Might I take you out for a coffee or other beverage?”
She put her hand on her hip, face screwing up into a combination of horror, and she twitched her nose. “Well, that was unexpected and weird.”
“I know, right?” I grinned. “I bet nobody has ever asked you out like that before.”
“You’re right.” She chuckled, face lighting up. “Nobody has. But unfortunately, the answer is no, you little weirdo.”
I looked down at the ground and felt immense shame.
“Oh, hey, hey!” She quickly consoled, brushing my shoulder. “I was joking! Not because of you! I’m just on my way to meet a client. Here!”
She quickly pulled something out of her purse, handed it to me, and began walking away. I looked at the card she had handed me, blinked, and looked back up. She made the ‘call me’ hand against her head, giggled, and then swung out of the entrance door and out of my life.
I read the card again, which said she was Jessica Van Graffe, a professional photographer, followed by her number.
Wait! Jessica Graffe. J Graffe. J Raffe. Giraffe! She was a giraffe!
I giggled to myself, and decided I had a lot of money to burn. Fuck responsibility and making the world better. Time for fun!