Saturday, 9 January 2010

The Beginning...

I watched intently as he stood still, catching his breath. Hands on his hips. His muscular arms were gently tanned and his shirt clung to his sculpted biceps, beads of sweat prickling on his skin. Through his shirt you could see the definition of his torso: the undulation of abs, broad, strong shoulders and his arms. His amazing arms. His thighs were toned and equally tanned and his legs were perfection. He ran his hand through his short dark hair leaving it ruffled and messy then wiped the sweat from his forehead. Briefly rested he was ready to go again.

He was watching, ever carefully and waiting for his moment. Walking quickly he broke into a jog.  Pointing ahead he shouted his instructions, arms and legs now beginning to pump as his pace increased into a run. The material in his shirt was like a second skin and as his body moved every ripple was visible. Every muscle was in perfect synchronisation, powering forward and yet he made it all look so effortless. His face was of total concentration as he neared his opponent, stepping left then right like a dancer, arm gripping his prize and pushing away anyone who dared to try and take it from him. His arms and legs pumped faster, he was going to make it, every sinew straining to reach the goal. The noise was unbearable. A cacophony of voices rose and surrounded him. Thousands of faces focussed on his every move. He was almost there. I watched enthralled, edging closer. He drove his body over the line and skidded into the dirt.

And there he was. Victorious.

His face broke out into a beaming smile as he looked up, his boyish good looks edged with sexiness. Despite the mud in his hair and smeared all over his face he was perfection.

I ran towards him and he got to his feet. We stood looked at each other before he grabbed me and pulled me towards him. His amazing arms were holding me, wrapped around me. I was getting mud all over my coat but I didn’t care. I lifted my face and he kissed me gently on my lips. He was about to speak, when we were interrupted by the noise of a shrill, screeching whistle...

It was half time and I had drifted off into my favourite daydream again. I sighed. Time to watch the half time analysis and his incredible try all over again.

I also knew it was time for me to snap out of it and get real.

Music:  Dreaming of You - The Coral

1 comment:

  1. Hi Kate, I think you and I are very much alike... I too am single and have a thing for rugby playing hunks! I think it's the thighs ;-)

    I've also started a new blog which you might be interested in having a look at (or not!):

    Keep up the good work!