an allegory, with metaphors and similes and such

This is what's happening.

I walked into a bar, and saw a familiar face. Someone I'd known, talked to, shared good times with, but hadn't heard from in a while. I join him. Two drinks in, and the conversation is flowing easily, and is as intelligent as I'd hoped it to be. I'm trying to be careful and not put my elbow on the table and let my chin rest on my open hand; I want him to know I'm enjoying this, but I don't want to appear to be wanting. Of course.

The conversation is still flowing until it is disrupted, on my part, by the sight of him walking in. He is sitting on the other side of the u-shaped bar, on the other side of the room, talking to his friends. I can't tell if he recognized me or even noticed me. Now it takes all my willpower to convince my partner in conversation that I have not shifted my attention, but whenever he takes a moment and looks down at his own drink and smiles, I chance a flick of my eyes in the direction of the other side of the room. Was he just looking at me before turning back to his friends? Am I just imagining things? Is it the wine I decided to pretentiously order for the sake of the man across the table from me? Would I even be drinking wine if I were on the other side of the bar? I know I'd be laughing, instead of speaking in an inside voice, almost at a secretive volume, as if no one could tell.

And speaking of laughing: I quickly shift my gaze back before he notices. My face holding back, trying not to betray anything that's going on behind my eyes, I notice him look down at his phone and smile absentmindedly. There it is: the canines. Sharp, longer than most people's. That genetic disposition, that almost primitive grin that makes my stomach drop.

Leaving him to his phone for a moment, I steal one more look over at the almost-stranger at the bar--and my pupils must be dialating to anyone who would look closely enough. He is wearing a smile, too--the eye teeth; he has the same kind of smile, but different, somehow. More alluring than mysterious, more--magnetic--than frightening.

With my gentleman friend across the table, I am almost unsure--not of his intentions, because if the look in his eyes means anything, his intentions are, or were, along the same lines as my own--nonetheless, I remain unsure, a little afraid, like the roller coaster you are not sure you should ride because you are prone to motion sickness and are deathly afraid of heights.

With the acquaintance across the room, I am thinking of animal things. Animal instincts, urges. I am drawn to that smile; I want those teeth tearing my clothes off; I want--

I turn back and give a little grin his way as I answer his "Everything okay?" with a "Just fine."

It doesn't matter anyway. At the end of the night, I'll be leaving; we'll all be leaving. And I'll probably be leaving alone, because I want what I can't have--I want what doesn't talk to me because of its schedule--and I won't be satisfied enough to have just anyone accompany me to my bedroom.

And so.