I was glancing at some of my old columns for Negative Waves when I came across one that I’d forgotten about. The column had to do with finding inspiration for writing stories and such. But the column itself was bookended with this fictional story I’d thrown in there. Since I have nothing else to really write about today, I thought I’d go ahead and post the story portion of that column.
So the other day, as I’m talking to a girl in a bar, she interrupts me while giving me a strange once over look. She puts her hand on my shoulder, squeezes, then slides it down to my upper arm, and squeezes again. I felt a bit like Russell Crowe in Gladiator when the old gladiator is checking him out. Finally, this girl says to me, “Do you work out?”
“You bet,” I lied with a straight face.
“I can tell,” she smiled while staring me in the eyes.
It isn’t difficult to tell that I had this girl in the bag. It’s amazing what simple human intuitiveness can do for a person.
Our banter continued for several more minutes.
“I’m a dancer,” she told me. I could smell the coconut oil on her, so I didn’t doubt her.
“Is that right?” I said humoring her.
“Hmm, mmm,” she replied while her tongue suddenly slipped from her mouth and moistened her upper lip, leaving just the tiniest sheen.
“Where do you dance?” I asked, trying not to let my voice crack.
“Anywhere you want me to,” she said as she slid her arm around my torso. Her fingers pinched my nipple. I knocked my beer over on the bar.
In a moment of clarity, I looked at her as she looked at the spilt beer which was spreading across the bar. I placed my hand on her chin turning her head to look at me. Our eyes locked in a tractor beam gaze that sucked our faces closer and closer together. Before our lips touched, I pulled back, whispering, “I don’t have anything in my nose, do I?” It kind of felt like I had something in nose.
She took a quick look, then grabbed a beverage napkin from the bar, held it up to my nose and said, “Blow.”
She wiped underneath my nostrils with the expert hand of a pediatrician, flicked the used napkin over her shoulder, and grabbed my head with both hands as she planted a violent kiss square on my lips.
As the beer that had been spilled on the bar began to trickle to the floor like a leaky faucet, our lips were locked in a kiss so passionate, the mariachi band playing that night was blushing. Her hands still gripped the side of my head as I wrapped my arms around her.
Without warning, she released my head and pulled her lips from mine.
Then she slugged me.
She gave me a right-cross to the chin that put me on the floor. I looked up and saw a hazy shadow I assumed to be the girl that had made me see stars both with her kiss and her fist. I wasn’t sure, but I think I was in love.
I was stunned, to say the least.
As I slowly came around I could see she had begun to cry. I was still laying on the ground. I propped myself up onto one elbow and rubbed my chin. The beer that had been trickling from the bar was now dripping onto my head. I pulled myself to my feet with the help of a couple bar stools. The girl leapt at me. I flinched in panic only to have her wrap her arms and legs around me in a solid embrace. She whispered in my ear, “I only hit the one I love.”
I could understand that. Or could I? I wasn’t sure anymore, what with the sore jaw and all. As I stood at the bar with this beautiful stranger wrapped around me like an odd fur coat, I reached to the bar and picked up my beer. I took a pull and downed half the bottle. It was clear to me that this night was just getting started.
“What’s your name, Doll,” I asked the girl.
“I can’t tell you, if I tell you, you’ll kill me,” she replied.
Hardly the response I was expecting, but I accepted it.
“You don’t have a man’s name, do you? I mean, you’re not a man, or were at any time a man, were you?” I inquired.
“No, darling, nothing like that,” she said. I finished the rest of my beer.
I hadn’t even been at the bar for more than 20 minutes and already I’d kissed a strange woman with more fire than a four-alarm blaze, spilled a beer on my head, been clocked in the face by the same girl I’d kissed, and now I stood with that girl attached to me like a cartoon starfish on the face of Bugs Bunny. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but apparently the sound of her name would make me want to kill her.
Little did I know how right she was. And little did I know just how young the night was.