Serving From the Sidelines (short story)

Sitting at small table outside of a local coffee shop She enjoys Her daily Java fix. Not knowing that She is being secretly admired from afar. This occurrence has been going on for some time; this inferior being has drug itself to the coffee shop each morning just to observe such beauty.

A successful man, boy like in ways, secretly seeking to express its adoration for Her. What is its inferior fix; what is it that arouses the boyishness? Is it the way Her eyes shoot right to its soul? Is it the way that She moves with grace, Her heels, or Her intoxicating smoke rolling from Her lips as She sits and reads each morning?

What is the trigger, or better yet what is its desire? Simple rather it (the boy within) just wants to be noticed, the thought of watching from afar excites it, but it is also rather scared to approach a Woman such as Her. The fear of rejection leaves the boy with trembling hands and no actions to pursue attention.

Would She accept an offering of words, or a new beverage, maybe a book, or just a compliment as the boy sits and ponders day in and day out. A year passes, he comes to know, Her reading preferences, and how She loves to take long slow drags from Her vapor cigarette as She reads.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, sending the boy into a blissful daze. The repeated action entraps its weakened mind. The inhale is making it feel as if She had just stolen the boy's soul, although a soul cannot be stolen without consent. Secretly wanting to submit to the dream girl it frantically thinks, abruptly stopping in its tracks.

This boy realized one thing; the only thing that mattered was that it was calmed by Her clouds and intellect. That is needed to become entranced in all of Her, so it cleared its mind. Only then could it see that the way to its submissive desire was through Her lungs. She could breathe its listless life into the most blissful of states.

Before falling asleep one night the boy had finally decided what it would do to catch Her eye. Mustering up the courage was difficult for him by far. Ultimately deciding on buying a book, but what book? The search for a book was rather flustered for him at first. Would She understand what he was intending to do with gift Her a book or would She think he had bad intentions? As the boy closed his eye, he traced back into Her blissful web so easily spun around him and decided the after several reviews and personally reading a few books that one stood out. “The Mistress Manuel” by Mistress Lorelei; it was a suitable read as he did not know much about Her from afar.

Although he had found a book that he would wish give Her, just a book, it felt like an empty attempt so he proceeded to write this on the inside of the cover:

Dearest Miss,

This boy watched Your beauty from afar for some time now, and just wishes that You understand this is a gift and by no means a push in any direction for me to benefit. Other than in the fact that this boy wishes so much to see You happy and ever exerting Your strength in individuality. Thought You may enjoy the read, as You are constantly in depth of a number of exciting books. You bring life to my ever weakening existence and if You would like, with no strings attached, I can make this offering to You each month on the first day of every month. Just email a list of books to the address found here if You decide that is something that would make You happy.

-the humble admirer

Then had listed his email beneath the short letter.

After writing that within the cover the boy thought to himself, what else would She possibly want? As he was unsure as he proceeded to go to the ATM and withdrew five hundred dollars after thinking for a moment, as that is what he could comfortably afford as an offering, from his savings. Thinking to himself of how She may spend it, but most of all the smile that would light Her face as She thumbed through the bills and read his handwritten note.

Keeping the book and offering close by for several days he was scared of what She may think, quivering lips and sweaty shaking hands, that She may somehow be offended. Yet, he had convinced himself it would be a one time only, act and She would possibly never email him back anyhow. Finally releasing his frustrations he awaited Her arrival one calm summer morning, as She drove in, his heart racing he had felt as if he swallowed a golf ball, reminding himself to breathe and briefly closing his eyes as She stepped out of Her car.

As She made it into the coffee shop the boy stepped out of his SUV with the book in hand, money tucked neatly into the book and proceeded to lay it at Her usual seat. Frantic on the inside and a bit hesitant, he proceeded into the coffee shop just as She stepped out of other door by Her seat. Ordering his drink and only briefly glancing back at Her as he left. Her face lit up with joy as She looked to really be brow risen by the inside of the cover.

Over the next couple of weeks She didn’t seem to have the book as Her primary reading choice in the mornings, so the boy was a bit saddened. It was worth a shot, though he kept telling himself every day. Almost like kicking himself in the ass repeatedly, but still cherishing the day of the initial risk of the gift.

Three weeks and two days from the time he had gifted Her the book and his financial servitude he received an email from this wondrous Woman that entrapped his mind. It was that of a gracious beauty with a hunger for knowledge. She thanked him for the gifts and sent a list of books. From then on every month on the first of the month the boy would leave a book with a cash offer for Her leisure. She never knew who he was, or if She did She didn’t call him out. Rather the boy just enjoyed the smoke rolling from Her luscious lips with a much more intoxicating feature (confidence).

The act of financial servitude, the true servant, selfless, ego-less, and without a doubt as reliable as a boy can be. It thrills his heart to give so selflessly, whilst She enjoys the offerings and graciously sends thanks time to time. Although he knows it may never go anywhere, the money setting in Her hands has far more value than in his pocket.