[The story is about a different way of living, or maybe not so different. Most of the really good stuff that exists in my life exists as the result of a barter or two. It is my belief that when you are ready and open for the best deal of your life it just may show up. It did for Sam and Melissa,]
*
She came in and sat next to me at the bar. I had put myself on a stool with space on either side of me, ordered a long neck and relaxed to listen to the local country band. They were pretty good, until I got distracted.
She wore the uniform for a bar like that one: jeans, boots, wide leather belt and western shirt. The shirt fit tightly across her chest. Her chest wasn't big. The shirt wasn't unbuttoned too far. The jeans were tight. The boots were for dancing not work. Her bra length blond hair was straight and she swung it around like she was waving a cape for the bull. I guessed I was the bull.
As soon as her butt slid onto the stool she looked at me and said, "Hi."
I returned the greeting and asked, "Do you dance?"
"When asked, sometimes."
"If I buy you a beer will you dance with me?"
"Maybe." She tilted her head a little. I've seen plenty of women tilt like that. It's a tease. I didn't order her a beer. The bartender came and she ordered her own.
When it arrived she paid for it and then said, "I thought you offered to buy me a beer?"
"I asked if I bought you a beer would you dance with me. You said maybe. Well, maybe, when you make up your mind, I'll buy you a beer."
She took a good hit on the beer and turned to face me. "It's all a dance. You make a move, I make a move and maybe, later, we get to know each other."
"That might be true of every man in this bar but not this one. In my life I barter. This morning I bartered with a rancher. No money changed hands. I left him with eighty bales of alfalfa and drove away with a fifty year old John Deere tractor on my truck. Later this afternoon I traded with a family. They got the propane tank they needed and I got a truck load of corn. In here the game is usually different. I won't play."
"Why not? Wouldn't spending time dancing with me be worth something?"
"Yes. I offered. You answered "Maybe." That would be like me unloading eighty bales of alfalfa in your barn before you've decided if we have a deal. I wouldn't know if the tractor was mine. I may be crazy but I'm not stupid."
"Oh. If I said yes, you would have bought me a beer?"
"That was the offer."
"Yes, but not yet. Buy the beer after we dance."
I took her hand and we went to the dance floor. We joined the throng sliding around the floor together. We didn't talk. She danced a proper two-step. The more flourishes I added the more she seemed to like it. She smiled and moved with an ease I liked. When the song ended I put my hand on her back but didn't push. She looked up at me and said, "You are really quite gentle."
"I'm not here to get you to go where you don't want to go. My hand is to let you know I'm still here. When the music plays, I lead. Without the music, I barter."
At our stools the bartender brought two more beers. I paid. We clinked bottles and took a swallow.
"I'm Melissa. You willing to share your name with me?"
"Sam. Nice to meet you Melissa."
"Sitting here with you feels a lot like a chess match. I'm looking forward two or three moves to see what might be coming my way."
"I can let you wonder or we can sit at a table and I'll tell you. I'd prefer the table."
She started to slide off the stool so I picked up both our beers and followed her to an empty table. We sat and each took another drink. I began nursing my beer. No point in dulling my senses.
"Ok. Where is this evening headed?" Melissa asked.
"I like what I see. I liked how you felt as we danced. You play chess. You understand barter. All that tells me we can actually have something here if we decide it's what we want."
"And that something is?"
"I'm willing to make you an offer. Think about it and then decide what you are willing to offer. If we can work out the details we'll have a deal and something will happen. If we can't work out the details we will have spent an hour or two in a most enjoyable conversation and no harm done."
"Make me an offer."
"I'm looking for a woman to be in my life as my mate, exclusively. Live with me, share my life. I make about two hundred thousand a year. I have a house near, but not in, Austin. I spend three weeks a month on the road. I expect my woman to be with me. I take a month off every year to travel somewhere fun. I can cook, clean, drive, rope, shoot and fight with the best, but I prefer not to shoot or fight. I am about as dressed up as I'll ever be except on the day I get married and on that day I will wear whatever she wants me to wear. The woman in my life needs to ask for what she wants and what she needs. I will do my best to provide her with both her wants and needs but I must know what they are. I expect my sex drive to be slightly higher than hers and will restrain myself, but not completely. I love sex and want lots of it." I paused. "Ok. That's my opening gambit. Your move."
She took another hit of her beer without her eyes ever leaving mine.
"I heard you. I want a man as my partner, 24/7. I want to share everything about his life and mine, together. I live in a small apartment. I pay the rent month to month. I have a license to drive a semi. I can cook, ride, rope, drive, shoot, clean and fuck better than most. I believe in speaking what I need and what I want. I know the difference between the two. I expect I can fine tune my sex drive to be ready, willing and enthusiastic to your advances. I'd love to take a month off for fun each year." Her eyes had never left mine. "Your move, cowboy."
"It's about nine o'clock. I've had two beers and no dinner. I'd like to leave this bar and go eat. If you go with me, you're spending the night with me. That means in bed and with sex. It means we're both taking a hard look at the opportunity on the table and seeing if it fits. If it does fit, I'll need to know how soon you can leave your apartment and leave with me."
"Who's buying dinner?"
"From the moment we walk out of here until we come to an agreement, I pay."
She stood and picked up her beer and mine. I followed her. She set the bottles on the corner of the bar, waved to the bartender and walked out. Outside she looked at the parking lot and said, "Which horse is yours cowboy?"
"The blue rental Ford." I pointed. "I didn't think they would like me parking my semi here."
I opened her door and when she was in I went around and got in. "Where's a good place to eat?"
Ten minutes later we were in a nice quiet restaurant. Quiet, not dark. I hate the restaurants where I can't quite see what's on the plate. The chicken-fried steak was good, the veggies fresh not canned and the mashed potatoes were fresh as well. Melissa had breakfast. Two eggs, medium, sausage, hash browns and country gravy. We shared. The country gravy was really delicious.
As we ate we talked. She had a lot of questions. "Where did I go on vacation the last three years? What was my house in Austin like? Would she be paid or depend on me for everything? Did I expect to get married soon? How soon was soon? Which side of the bed did I like? Did I stay in motels when I was on the road? Did the sleepover cab have a kitchen? Where were we headed and how soon?"
As she asked the wording changed from what did I want, need, do to what would we want, need, do. It was eleven when we walked out of the restaurant. At the car she stopped and wrapped her arms around my neck. She leaned up and kissed me. It was a great kiss and I could feel the effects inside my jeans. Her lips were soft, warm and magic.
"Are you talking me back to your truck or to a motel?"
"If I take us to a motel I'm not showing you what life will be like. I haven't spent a night in a motel since I got caught in a blizzard two years ago. Their heat worked better than mine. I was in that motel for three days, just outside Green Bay Wisconsin. I can take you to your apartment if that's what you choose, but I'm sleeping in my truck."
"Kenworth?"
