Lustrous, dark lashes framing twinkling, hazel eyes. I love to watch them flutter as he blinks. Longer than should be legal for a man, they curl up slightly, nearly brushing his eyelids and my attention is held captive. I try to think of thought provoking questions to ask him because those lashes work overtime when his brain is stimulated. I come up short, my words a jumbled mess on my tongue, my mind a blank. Those strands seem to move in time with my pounding heart that I struggle to keep steady. Each bat of those lashes sends my heart racing and I am mesmerized.