Nameless woman, timeless love

It isn't like I was trying to stare at them.  The intensity demanded my curious looks.  I was pulled by necessity.  My will was to stop watching, and if I concentrated hard enough I could accomplish it.  The aura created was impossible to ignore.  A sense of heat pulsed through me, and I tried not to look flushed. 

I was not blushing out of embarrassment.  The sight of two adults kissing is not cumbersome to me by virtue.  But the emotions that were instilled came rapidly and unexpectedly, causing a bit of warmth in the face.  The warm tug of passion brought me glancing back, wondering if I acted similarly with women I loved.

A middle aged woman sat alone at a cafe.  The awning over her head read "Bistro, Pane, Cafe".  Her white and blue striped shirt hung over her shoulders lightly, like a breeze could brush it off her body.  She had straight dark hair and thin lips.  A pointed chin peered down her cleavage while her brown eyes watched me walking by.  We held eyes for thirty seconds or more.  I felt my breath steady, and watched hers reciprocate.  A silent conversation passed between us.  I did not feel ashamed to watch her because she was watching me too.  Our eyes were locked, caught between blinders surrounding. 

I smiled as I came nearer.  She let her lips part slowly as she returned the pleasant expression.

Buongiorno, I said as I sat down.

Maybe it is the heat that motivates people here.  The warmth that radiates from each person is apparent.  If it is the sun that causes their eagerness to touch I can understand.  The atmosphere of a hot day in Italy screams of sex to me.  It is quite possible that I alone feel.  It would not be the first time I elevated feelings in my head.  Looking around the city of Milan it seems transparent though. 

People touching, holding, carressing openly for all to see.  Many couples kiss with intent, pressing hard against each other while hundreds of people walk by.  Rails next to the river Navigli are spotted with beautiful women's asses perched atop them, with their legs wrapped around a man who is basking in her embrace.
 

I use beautiful here not to describe the women's facial structure.  It has nothing to do with their stomach size, their tits, their thigh width.  It is their glow that makes them so magnificent.  I could say the same for the men in that sense, because it is not so much the one or the other person that is so attractive here.  The scene itself is beautiful, and emotional.  The feelings instilled are the beauty, and the women involved are my own specific muses to attribute that beauty to.

Parle Inglese? I asked her, using two of the fifty Italian words I know. 
I already knew how she was going to answer
"A little." and she wobbled her hand in front of her chest.
Enough to understand though. I replied. 

She showed no sign of surprise when I spoke english.  She just kept the soft smile on her lips as she spoke.
"Yes, I understand. But I do not speak so well."

We chatted easily, and about nothing of importance.  Our spoken words held a minority in our conversation.  The hard eye contact that we had told me much more than her broken english.  I am not used to such consistent staring, especially from such a beautiful woman.  I kept her gaze easily though. It held naturally between us, much less forced than our already flowing words.

Is it the sun that forms these intense emotions within me? Or is the sun just another muse to help define my thoughts? Whichever came first, I felt them both today. Baring open across my skin and deep within my chest.