Saturday, December 15, 2012

Hanging By A Moment Part 1 by Kirby

(This is just a part 1 to the story. No other parts have been written. It will be up to the popular vote at the end as to whether the story continues into next week, or if it just ends because it sucks.)

I half leaned on the four top table inside the usual local haunt. The long neck Corona broke out into a sweat, and the lime bobbed slightly as if it was treading water. Just a habit, I ran a finger through the moisture on the bottle and carved out a smiley face. A slight grin came over my lips when I pulled my finger away and watched the smiley face soon become disfigured in veined trails. A typical night in a typical dive, a sigh, and I realized it was my own vocalization of boredom.

The low hum inside the establishment was suddenly interrupted. Someone had played the jukebox, and a song by Lifehouse was a welcome change in the auditory scenery. "Hanging by a moment..." My eyes searched through the lazy haze for the jukebox curious to see who would dare violate the usual hum-drum. She rested a forearm on the musical box, and it was obvious She was meticulously making Her selections. She seemed oblivious to the boy sizing Her up. This wasn't the sizing up of a cocky boy. No, this was just a flavor of curiosity. People watching was a result of boredom. The lyrics filtered through my ears, "There's nothing else to lose...there is nothing else to find..."

My eyes didn't leave the curvaceous brunette as the bottle came to my lips. A long draw off the weak beer, and then set back down. It took a moment for it to register that She had turned around. Her eyes locked onto me like heat seeking missiles,  and I fumbled. I straightened up too quickly, and the beer did a swivel on its base before I caught it. My eyes re-engaged Her after the little mishap, and I was all too aware of the goofy smile on my face. Dammit, I was not sexy when I smiled. My slight dimples would show, and appearing to be a dark, mysterious man would exit. All that would be left was a boy that often invoked from women the same sound when one sees a puppy instead of a raspy growl of want. My shoulders were mid-slump in self disappointment when I realized She was motioning to me, or was it beckoning? The song rang out, "There is nothing else...There is nothing else.". How true it was...there was nothing else. Just that manicured finger pulling me towards Her.

I was only half aware of my feet carrying me there. My mind kept reminding me that so many mistakes come back home from bars. I had been here before, but something was different. This beautiful woman and Her was clear She was not asking, but rather demanding. Some say moth to a flame and others white on rice. This was simply a boy following his instinct and natural attraction to something so complex. What could She possibly want from me? I resigned myself to believing She was about to mistake me for bar staff.

It seemed all in slow motion, but I was there...closer. Close enough to smell Her perfume. It was not sweet and flowers, but something more of a woodsy patchouli scent. The room was slightly dark as bars are, but a flicker of light danced behind those blue eyes. I could not will my eyes off of Hers until I was distracted slightly when Her sealed lips parted and She took a breath to speak. "Do you always lurk in corners and stare down complete strangers? It could be taken as rudeness...boy." I started to blink quickly, and I was aware that my own mouth was a gaping hole. Wait. Did She just call me boy? The words started to fall from my lips in a verbal suicide. "Uh, well, ummmm, I don't work here. Oh, gah, OK I am sorry Miss I think maybe I was just like daydreaming except it is night, so maybe that is really night dreaming..." I was bashing my own stupid skull in as each word fell. I was rambling badly. The look on Her face was pure amusement, and I felt the heat wave of a flush crawling out from under my shirt collar. Her eyes moved past me to another dark corner of the room. "There is a booth in the back boy. Go secure it for me, and a house red wine would be appreciated." I looked back to identify the booth, and then checked my wrist for the time according to Gucci. It was getting late, and I had to work in the morning. The song rang out in my ears with an oh so fitting lyric, "Hanging by a moment here with you...".

(A choice has to be made. Does he go home like a responsible adult? Or, does he grab the booth for the Lady, and order Her drink? Popular vote wins, and the story will continue at next confession. Does he stay, or does he go? Vote.)


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