I am standing in line at the company cafeteria when the attack comes: a blow to the back of the knees not hard enough to paralyze but enough to leave me disoriented, confused, and looking around wildly for my attacker. Who, it turns out, is now standing beside and slightly in front of me, her slender left shoulder in front of my right shoulder, the top of her long blond hair just below my eye level.

"Hey!" She says brightly, shrugging slightly, as though nothing has just happened, as though nothing is happening, as her shoulder rubs against my shoulder with the shrugging motion, as her hip twists, bumping against mine.

"Hi," is all I can manage in my still disoriented, already aroused state, swinging my hip to bump her back, desperately wanting to put my hand around her waist, on her ass, pull her closer, kiss her deeply.

"Do I really want a salad?" she asks, the question maybe directed at me, maybe herself. Her attention span, I have come to realize, is almost non-existent. "I think I want soup and a sandwich," rubbing up and down against me as she talks, her lovely perky firm breasts flirting lightly with my chest.

I can sense that she is starting to turn, to walk away, yet again. I am too hard this time to let her go. I grab her arm and lean in to her ear to ask the question I've been meaning to ask: "What was that wrong idea you were trying not to give me?"