Sitting on the Shreveport side of the Red River waiting for the fireworks to start.
Looks like boat races out on the river tonight, thinking of the Bayou babe I met last night.
Rochelle the Caramel Shake.
She hails from Metarie, Lousiana.
I drank in her charms as she danced in my arms before her faery gifts faded away.
Why does a beautiful woman enrapture us so much, daring us to throw caution to the wind and chase that sweet summer gardenia?
What is it about a beautiful woman with that slow southern drawl that hypnotizes?
My roving eye had made its circuit around the room when it snagged across her perfect gluteus maximus. Then she turned, I saw her face, her half-Honduran trace.
Her exotic almond eyes and her perfect caramel skin was a combination I couldn't resist. So I swallowed the lump in my throat and sidled up.
“I have to say, your skin is just the loveliest color, like a caramel shake.”
She was surprised but delighted and replied "Mmm and a caramel shake tastes so good." before she glided away to begin the dance.
The dance was glorious, the repartee quick and loaded. There was a reason she and her friend decided to drive up to Shreveport yesterday.
The reason was my wish upon a star for a bayou babe.
And for a few glorious moments the flirting was divine. Her confidence was a powerful aphrodisiac.
She caught my every throw of innuendo and pitched them back in perfect time. We caught the attention of the room with her head toss and laugh.
I was dashing in my cowboy hat.
When she took it and placed it on her head and smiled? I damn near had a heart attack.
I know I'll never see her again, that is the glory and pain of a casual encounter. But it leaves its own memory refrain.
Good bye Bayou Babe, Caramel Shake. It was wonderful to have you pass my way. Good night, good bye sweet Rochelle.
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