Today coming home during the rush-hour from Strasnicka on the green line, I watched three college kids — a boy & two girls. The girls were teasing this boy unmercifully with flirting looks and talk (without Czech language, I had to imagine from passed looks, wise glances, and pouty-lipped phrases). This boy was enthralled by their youthful beauty (dirty blond and jet-black haired girls, both cute in that late teenaged, not-yet-fat stage; Wonderbras showing off the headlights like a 1920’s roadster). I don’t know what they were saying to this boy, but when they got on the train the three were talking and laughing, but now he sat mute, stunned, flumoxed by their overt sexuality exposed within this public forum.
And then things got steamy.
The girls were very casual with their talk and their closeness to each other. They would look at their male companion, smile coquettishly (only girls know how to smile this way), and then kiss. These weren’t lesbian kisses of passion or excess, but light snaps like we used to play Post Office as “kids” testing out the opposite sex’s saliva flavors. The boy held his book-bag over his lap. He sat silently, watching, listening to his girlfriends’ fertile talk, hot stares. The girls draped their arms around each other, and looked back at their boyfriend. Smile, primp, hand-holding. Kiss kiss. Smile. The coquettes’ flourish.