The third time, her eyes lingered quite a bit on the section below his belt as if to suggest that his cerebrum had seeped through the spine and settled there momentarily or even longer, nonetheless enough to cause an imbalance of sorts.
He felt sharp pins prick at his legs and a small stream head to his shoes. He hoped too that her eyes did not notice the uncomfortable shift below his belt.
Not that he was aware of it and much less had he intended it, but his lower lip had on the right side receded in between his sparkling white dental and kept sliding on and off enjoying the slight pain.
For all the blankness of his creative abilities, he hoped there was an eject button somewhere beneath his shoes. An effective one, akin to Johnny English would be perfect to telepot him to some place in Bwaise or Katwe.
At least, if the ground was kind enough to lease a gaping hole in which to zap to safety.
#To be continued
$TOH
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