Us

Us
Originally uploaded by Rob Hoey

He didn't think she saw him. The lighting wasn't very good. He followed her at a safe distance and he was about two hundred feet away, blending into the shadows of the building. He was an ex-Marine, so he knew that slow movement was harder to spot than quick movement. The sun was low, casting long, warm light on the concrete, and most people were indoors to get out of the heat.

He slowly brought the D3x to eye level, focused in with the eyepiece, took careful aim, and fired off a burst of twelve consecutive shots at a shutter speed of 1/800 sec., and an ISO rating of 400 at 24.5 mexapixels with his AF Zoom Nikkor 80-200mm f/2.8D ED lens. It was all over in less than two seconds and he put his stuff away.

He walked toward her and she saw him approaching almost immediately. "I just shot a dozen photographs of you and I'd like to discuss it over a cup of coffee."

"That's the strangest and most original pickup line I've heard in a long time. Sure, I'm curious to hear what you have to say."

"I know a nice place just up the street; you may have heard of it--it's called Starbucks."

"Has a cowboy sound to it, but I'll give it a shot."

"What's your name," he asked.

"Calliope. Calliope McFane. You?"

Sergio Dire. My friend calls me Serge."

"You only have one friend?"

"How many friends does a man need to have before you can call him a man?"

"I see your point."

They walked along Broadway as if they belonged together. There was a familiarity with the way they walked in step, him with his camera bag at his side, her with the hottest pair of hips at hers.

He played the gentleman, holding the door for her as she walked into the coffee shop, and she smiled seductively at his gallantry. "Why don't you find us a table and have a seat," he said, as he stood in the cue of perhaps a dozen people, all with different caffeine urges, as he heard them order mocha frappuchino with creme and a twist of fritz, or something that sounded like that. He realized that he had forgotten to ask her what she wanted, so he took it upon himself to simply order a medium coffee. If she didn't like it, well, then he chose the wrong woman to have his babies.

"Here you go, Calliope," he said as he put the coffee down in front of her and took the seat opposite hers. "I hope you like just plain coffee."

"Actually, I was hoping for a Java Chip Frappuchino, easy on the drizzled chocolate, but coffee works for me too."

"Can I get you some cream or sugar or both?"
"Naw, black is fine. It'll just put more hair on my chest."
"Don't talk dirty, we've just met. I love a woman with lots of hair on her chest."

They laughed and talked for over an hour, and he took her phone number. It wasn't until that night that he learned the number she had given him was the New York Rejection Line.