A tap on the shoulder,
I swivel in my chair,
leaning back,
fingers stroking chin stubble
as I take her all in.

A pale leg
protrudes through the slit
of her long black dress.

A glance,
and I raise my eyes
to meet her blue gaze.

She ***** her head,
looks quizzically at me,
as she leans back,
strokes her smooth chin
with slender fingers,
mocking my pose,
and whatever expression
I’m wearing on my face.

A dare in her crooked smile.

I shake my head,
like a dog shedding water,
break the spell,
ask how I can help.

With her hand
she beckons me
toward her desk,
her English still too broken,
my Russian even worse,
though I do try sometimes,
as she gives puzzled looks,
and occasionally giggles.

She sits,
points at the problem
on her computer screen,
as I lean over her shoulder
close as I dare,
breathing her in.

And seeing only
the reflection
of our faces together
in the glass.