My Affair With A Mr. Gosling Look Alike- Part 2

As today is somewhat of an indulgent day for me I thought I'd spoil myself and write the second part of My Affair With A Mr. Gosling Look Alike. The one thing I love so much about writing is that it allows you to relive an experience, no matter how fleeting - as soon as you put pen to paper there it is an element of permanence which is great if you want to sustain a perfect moment in time.

For those of you who have not yet read part one I highly suggest you do so before feasting on the content below. You will find part 1 of My Affair With A Mr. Gosling Look Alike here.

My Affair With A Mr. Gosling Look Alike- Part 2

Just as I was lifting the champagne glass to my lips, Mr. Gosling look alike stood up from his table and glanced at me one last time before disappearing into the back of the establishment. I cant exactly describe what came over me but the next thing I know I was following this exceptionally gorgeous man through a sea of suits and in the direction of the exit.

“Wait” I reached out and touched his arm.

He stopped walking and looked around in surprise. All of a sudden I felt like an absolute fool for chasing him down and as he stool in front of me, barely a meter from my face the only word that came into my head was FUCK.

He was even more gorgeous up close and as a smile slowly crept across his face I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh of relief.

“Would you like to join me for a cigarette?” his smooth British accent sent an electric shiver down my spine. He not only looked uncannily like Ryan Gosling but he was English too and with a little help from my friend alcohol I could have sworn that at that moment I fell in love for the very first time.

When I didn’t respond (probably because I was on the verge of perishing before the most beautiful creature I’d ever met) he looked dubiously at me with his ridiculous blue eyes and gestured towards the exit of Palmer and Co.

Finally I managed to nod before following him out the door and into the dimly lit passageway where he fingered a cigarette from his pocket and pressed it to his lips.

He offered me a smoke but I gracefully declined, even one inhale would be enough to push me over the edge.

“Sorry for staring, earlier” he paused before taking another drag.

“But I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.” he said shaking his head then looking away into the night.

“That’s ok,” I muttered trying to catch my breath.

I leant up against the cold brick wall for extra support and in doing so my figured hugging dress crept an inch or so up my leg, he peered at me through his sandy coloured hair then swore abruptly under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I asked sliding a fraction closer to his perfectly built frame. He towered over me making me feel small and weightless.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he admitted. My heart immediately sank and the blood rushed to my head.

“I’m just so fucking attracted to you” he continued.

“I’m really fucking attracted to you to,” I laughed before unintentionally rubbing my fingers across my lips.

In one quick moment he threw the remains of his cigarette on the ground and grabbed my hand, leading me back into Palmer and Co and down the stairs towards the bar.

His hand clasping my hand, the music, the scantly glad waitresses, the flow of wine, the roar of businessmen laughing, the copious amount of alcohol that I had already consumed, each element of this divine moment contributed to the lightning speed at which my heart was racing.

In this moment, in the city, down the alleyway, in the hidden bar, in the frivolous illusion that was the 1920s I could have stayed forever.

But like every good story, there has to be an end.

To be continued… ;)