Man Of Few Words

Chapter 38

I feel like you're probably now thinking, "Why's he singled this girl out?", "What's so special about her?" And I feel like I should paint a picture of her with words, like some kind of romantic poet. During my career, I have deftly made such mundane items as frozen peas, tomato puree, corned beef and even just water sound irresistible. But Tuulikki... I don't think I can put it into words.

And I don't mean that in a "Words can't describe how wonderful..." kind of a way. I just mean I don't think I'm that kind of writer. But, for what it's worth...

She wasn't blonde. She had long, straight, brown hair and tanned skin. When she tried to get me to guess where she was from, I started with Spain then proceeded to try as many Mediterranean and South American countries as I could think of. It was when I said, "Puerto Rican?" (about my fifteenth guess, I think) that she finally took pity on me and told me she was Finnish. She always swore she had no Hispanic ancestry that she knew of.

Her lips and her eyes always had this shine to them, even when she wasn't wearing make-up. She almost never stopped smiling – to the point that it could almost be sinister. On the night we met, she was dressed relatively modestly – in a simple black dress with a knee-length skirt and a high neck – but it was impossible not to notice that she had an incredible body. Within the first five minutes she actually said, "You keep looking at my tits." It wasn't an accusation or a complaint, or even a tease. It was a simple observation. One that happened to be absolutely true. I looked her in the eyes for a couple of seconds and said nothing, then I looked at her tits for a couple more, then I looked her in the eye again and said, with a slight shrug, "Yes, I do." She smiled and just continued the conversation where it had left off.

I think that, more than anything, is what drew me in. Tuulikki had a way of being blunt and direct that somehow made you feel more, rather than less, comfortable. It's tempting to say that she brought out my cool, confident side, but I don't think it really had much to do with any of my qualities. It was her. She would put you off-guard, render you vulnerable, but then instead of attacking, she'd do something positive – often just a smile, or some even more subtle trick of body language or sub-communication – and you'd feel great. She intuitively understood that a person's psychological defences don't just keep the bad out, but a lot of the good too. And she'd tear down those defences again and again, just so she could then send something positive through intact and uncompromised.

Not many people can really do that. And when you meet someone that can do it, and does do it – a lot – it's very easy to get hooked. It's not exactly "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" I know. But I wouldn't compare Tuulikki to a summer's day, quite frankly. If I had to compare her to something, it would be a drug. She didn't make me hallucinate, or compel me to dance, or hype me up, or chill me out, but she definitely impacted my brain chemistry in ways that I'm still not sure were entirely natural.

If there's a better way to end this chapter than by stating that I am sure that her tits were entirely natural, then I absolutely cannot think of it right now.