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There are nights when I’m proud of being part of the band. The bar fills with people of all ages, most of them ready to put behind their lousy days. You know this by the sour expressions they carry and the way they down one drink after another.
But then the girls come in. Their predatory look tells you everything you need to know about their reason to be there. They observe you from whatever advantage point they saw you play; you wink at them… and Bam! It happens. You come down off the stage and offer them a beer or whatever they might have been drinking. It’s not long after you have them eating out of your hands, or you out of theirs, while they get ready to head out with you.
That’s not what happens tonight. Not when I see her.
I’m at the stage, settling the last cables on their place when I spot this sassy brunette coming in. She is exuding confidence in a way no other girl can. There is nothing hotter than a woman who is sure of herself. I’m hooked.
Her hair falls in a cascade against her sharp features, and she owns eyes of a blue so bright, that I wonder if that’s the color Frank Herbert was thinking while describing the Fremen’s eyes. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a nerdy comparison for me.
As she walks straight to the bar, I can’t help but adore the way her dress clings to her torso. There is an inverted star cut right above her cleavage, showing the freckled skin that covers her, and the sharpness of her clavicles. The tip of the star falls low between the valley of her breasts. Help! Then, the skirt flares and it seems to bounce and adapt to the strength of her steps. Which, mind you, are walking on black Jimmy Choo’s.
She presses her palms into the bar, and slides her arms, opening a space for her, and no one, not even one soul, complains about this. They just move slightly to let her own the spot.
A wide, mischievous smile spreads on her lips as she leans forward, calling the bartender’s attention with ease. Teddy answers’ swiftly, and he’s not one to be shaken so easily by a gal.
It’s the format of the glass, more than the amber color of the beverage, that tells me she is as dangerous as she looks. Bourbon or whisky. Not all of them who dare to stride down a bar looking like that will order whisky as their first drink. No, usually they turn around to scan the bar. A sly smile is in place until they find their prey, and a glass of some sweet concoction fills their hands in no time. Not that she has *that* sort of self-confidence, either.
She is not one of them -not a girl, not an escort- at all. And to be utterly out of place, she seems to fit when she grabs the glass and downs it at once. Her head falls back and leaves her neck exposed for a second, before recomposing herself, lowering back the glass with a thud that competes with the music in volume. She signals Teddy, and he fills her glass once more.
No ice. No scrunching of her nose to show how the alcohol is burning her throat when she repeats her motions with this one.
She signals for a third one before she grabs her poison of the night and heads to the dance floor. She sashays, sways, and makes these sensual steps mixed with some dork ones, as if she couldn’t care in the least what the others sharing her space would think about this odd combo that I’m sure only she can pull off while not looking like a fool.
I’m smitten.
I signal Teddy to fill up two glasses -one for me, one for her- before I grab them and near her on the dance floor. My band is still in recess, so I’m ready to impress her with my personality. However, she only raises her eyebrow as she sees me. When I point her to the glass, she turns it down, shaking her head, while dancing her way back to the bar, and to get her own refill.
I down the two drinks at once. My nose scrunches slightly with the burnt, but I cover it up because she returns to her spot, a newly filled glass in her hands, and she points it at me. I bring my hands up to my heart to show her I’m wounded. She laughs and continues dancing.
I sigh. Our recess is over, anyway. So, I will try to swoon her by being with the band.
She ignores me. As if I am a fly on the wall, or completely invisible. She dances to the songs we play, not even caring for the rhythm. As if she’s dancing in her own world. Maybe she is? It doesn’t mean I don’t have a chance, right?
After an hour, we come down. Girls come near us as the usual DJ replaces us, and yet, there she is… dancing away. Her eighth or tenth glass in hand, her hair is now slightly plastered to her, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose look a lot redder. Be that the alcohol’s effect or the dance, I’m not sure.
She is drunk now. Perchance, she lets me come near her. Perhaps my dancing skills are the nail sealing the coffin of this deal. Who knows? I come close; she doesn’t pull back. Her eyes close when I grab her hand and spin her.
Her laughter is contagious too, so I twirl her again, this time pulling her towards me. Her hand rests on my chest, though, before she pushes me away from her. Our bodies aren't plastering together and moving at the rhytm. There is no way I can dip her, and with a wink, convince her to allow me to kiss her. Fuck it, there’s not even eye contact!
She twirls away from me before she stops dancing at all. A smile wider than the ones I’ve seen before tugs at her lips. Out of the blue, she turns towards me, comes closer, and when I think I’ve won. She winks and walks past me.
I follow her steps like a lost puppy. But then I get it.
There, entering the bar, there’s a redhead. A black dress clings to her frame, her hair falls, curling to one side, her eyes twinkle when she spots the mysterious brunette, and a smile tugs the former pout on the red lips.
“Lilith! There you are!” I hear before my dancer clings to the newly arrived and their lips collide clumsily because of the state of drunkenness of the woman. It breaks all my hopes of getting a chance.
“Zee! Come dance!” The brunette tugs the redhead onto the dance floor, not before finding another glass that this time, is downed by the redhead in one swift motion. Guess what? No ice, no scrunched nose… just a peck on the brunette’s lip once she finished it.
The brunette orders another glass, pressing it on the fairer-skinned woman, before tugging her to the dance floor. No matter how terribly out of place they both look, with their fancy dresses and expensive shoes.
Lost in their own world, they dance the night away. As they follow their own weird steps and laugh at the other silliness. They look comfortable around each other, and they don’t seem to care about the world surrounding them. They twirl, they kiss, they twist once more and they make silly faces as they go.
“Well done, Cupid,” I say as I look at them, hands linking as they stride away from the dance floor and towards the unknown of the day that’s being birthed outside. You know, maybe love it’s not coming home tonight with me. But, if one day, I get what they have… Well, I’ll sure thank my lucky stars.
The end