Friday, June 26, 2009

She was as smooth as 20 year old Scotch

It had just been that kind of a week: my car had all but exploded, my brother was being deployed back to Iraq, my parents told us they were getting divorced after 30 years of marriage and I was passed over for a promotion at work. Short of my cat getting hit by lightening I couldn’t see how things could get worse.

Nothing any of my friends said made me feel any better; all I wanted to do was find the bottom of a few glasses in a dark quiet corner of an unknown bar by myself.

Walking through my front door I dropped my keys in the cream and brown bowl that sat on the entryway table, letting the mail fall next to it as I pushed the door shut with my rear end. Simon, my long haired tabby cat, barely opened his eyes let alone getting off the sofa to greet me, and with a sigh I walked down the hall toward my bedroom to change clothes.

I kicked my black pumps into the closet as I unzipped my wool blend skirt, letting it fall to the floor and leaving it in a rumpled puddle. The blazer landed on my antique rocking chair and the silk blouse underneath hit the floor beside it. I caught my reflection in the mirrored closet doors and stopped to stare at what I’d become; a pantyhose wearing, cotton briefs adorned, full coverage white bra drone. What happened to the young wild woman I used to be?

With a sigh I stripped off the nylons before slipping into my most comfortable jeans, heedless of the gaping holes in the knees and frayed cuffs. I pulled a red T-shirt over my head and stuffed my feet into my black biker boots. Scooping up my black leather coat I made my way out of the apartment and back out through the lobby.

Hailing a taxi I slipped into the back seat, slamming my door with another sigh.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Drive around for 20 minutes, and then drop me at a bar somewhere,” I said, staring out the window at the fat raindrops that collided with the smudged glass. The car moved and I closed my eyes, letting my head fall backwards and rest against the seat; I was so thankful the driver wasn’t trying to make small talk.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that the car stopped, and I opened my eyes, looking at the driver in the rearview mirror. “Hey, I’d asked…”

“This is where you need to go,” she said without turning around.

“But…”

“Ask for Sierra.”

Couldn’t I just get one thing to go my way today? With another sigh I dug into my purse for my wallet and the driver waived me off, “It’s on me,” she said. Bonus.

“Thanks.” I climbed from the car and made a dash for the front door, pulling on the brass handle and ducking into the dark interior.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light I shook the water droplets from my coat and wiped them from my cheeks. The place was virtually empty, and if their expressions as they looked me up and down were any indication, the few occupied booth were full of regulars.

I made my way to the bar and claimed a torn vinyl stool, crossing my arms on the padded edge of the black slab. The bartender made his way slowly to me and asked me to pick my poison.

“Midori sour, and I was told to ask for Sierra,” I said, speaking over the low strains of some old country song, and the bartender raised one eyebrow at me. He turned away and returned with a glass half full of a rich, tawny liquid, which was clearly not the neon green of the midori sour I’d ordered.

“Um, I don’t drink Scotch.” I pushed the glass back toward him, but he ignored it, turning on his heel and walking away down the length of the bar and disappearing into the back room. I slouched on my stool and glared at the glass, even getting drunk wasn’t going as I’d planned.

I felt her approach before I even heard a footfall, turning to watch her make her way across the room. All eyes were locked on her, including mine, and it wasn’t humanly possible to look away. Her dark red hair hung to her waist in thick curls, framing the taper of her waist and accentuating the flare of her hips. Her impossibly long legs carried her toward me while her green eyes stared at me with a predatory weight behind them, making me feel like a cornered rabbit.

She didn’t speak when she reached me; instead she pushed the glass toward me and raised one eyebrow expectantly.

“I don’t drink Scotch,” I said softly, afraid that if I spoke too loudly I’d scare her away.

Without a word she picked up the glass and took a long drink, her eyes never leaving mine. I gasped when her hand shot out and she tangled her fingers in my hair, tilting my head back as she pressed her lips to mine. The pressure of her kiss forced my lips apart and my mouth filled with Scotch that then burned its way down my throat.

When I next opened my eyes I was staring up at my own ceiling. The familiar sounds of my own house filling my ears, and I sat up slowly, wondering if I had imagined the whole thing. I threw the covers back and slid to the floor, heading toward the door, but I stopped dead when I caught sight of my reflection.

My long brown hair had been cut into a steep A-line and had electric blue streaks running through it. I was wearing a blue lace bra and matching lace panties, neither of which left much to the imagination, but it was the single bite mark on the inside of one thigh, more than anything, that made me stare.

Hazy memories compelled me to opened my closet door, and there I found all of my conservative work clothes cut into little bits lying on the floor. Turning around I made my way down the hall, picking up the trail of clothing shreds and following them into the living room where they culminated into a small mountain on the coffee table.

At the peak of the mountain lay a slip of paper, across which was scrawled, “Dreams are meant to be lived, not regretted”

No phone number. No idea where the bar was. No clear memory of what had transpired that night, but this stranger had managed to radically redirect my life in only a few hours. I smiled; she was as smooth as the 20 year old Scotch she’d kissed into me.

1 comment:

NancyAsiya said...

We all need moments like this to shake us out of our dreary existence! Well written :-)