“I should warn you, I suck.” I felt obligated to tell her. I mean we just met, how was she to know?
I noticed her there with her friends obviously having some drinks after work. They were all business attired and relaxing: ties loose, top buttons unbuttoned, jackets over chairs, hair down. But she stood out. She had this soft, round face that was lit with the evenings antics as well as a few glasses of wine. Her hair was black and so thick it absorbed light. She seemed so sweet taking compliments genially with a smile, a tilt of the head and a lilting thank you.
The problem was I couldn’t just walk up and talk to her. She was with a pretty sizable group of people and it would’ve been a little awkward for me, in my barroom uniform of jeans and a ratty black tee shirt, to work myself in. When she turned to put her name up on the list for the pool table I saw a chance and added my name after her.
All I could do was stare at her while they names ahead of us played out their games of pool. I hovered with my friends at our usual station near the dartboard occasionally breaking my concentration to fling a few darts in its general direction. I finished, hitting nothing worthwhile and lit a cigarette. Raising my line of sight through the resulting cloud of smoke I saw her look in my direction. Our eyes caught and I froze, my cigarette dangling from my lower lip, match still burning in my hand. She smiled and I smiled back goofily, feeling my face bloom red. She pointed at my hand and in less time than it took me to figure out what she was pointing to I felt the match burn my fingers. With a curse I flicked it to the ground. She laughed and so did I in spite of myself.
Figuring I’d found my in I turned to grab my beer and walk over but I was greeted with an extended hand. “Good game, man.”
Carlos and I had been playing against a rather obnoxious pair of jerks and my staring had lost us the game. One jerk had his hand out, the other was sniggering. We had lost pretty badly. Carlos was pretty pissed. I took the jerks hand and knew then what I must do. Valor dictated it. “Another? For a drink?”
“Uh,” he sneered and looked back at his partner who smugly nodded yes. Carlos gave me an odd look questioning what I was up to. Jerk turned back to me. “Sure. Shoot well.”
I had forgotten about my newfound infatuation until Carlos and I turned to watch our embarrassed foes retreat to the bar to buy us the beers we pounded out of them. Smiles and high fives faded to dismay when I noticed a number of her friends had left. She wasn’t in her seat and I figured she left with them. That beer had better be damn cold.
Half way through it I found myself doubting that it worth missing out on that opportunity. I heard the bartender calling me. When I turned he was pointing to the pool table. “You’re up!” She was standing next to it. Yeah, I was up.
I jogged over and jerked a cue out of the little umbrella stand they kept them in. I stuck my hand out “Hi, I’m …”
“Ian,” she finished for me. “I heard the bartender. I’m Sophie.” She took my hand and shook it. My knees got weak. Her hand was warm and soft with a soothing hint of dampness. I have to admit my first thought was of how they would feel cupping my balls. “I’ll rack,” she said with a smile breaking what must have been turning into a weird silence. “Money breaks.”
Oh yeah. I dropped a dollars worth of quarters into the slots and pushed the lever to get the balls out of the table. She racked and I grabbed the cue. She walked around to my end of the table and we’re back where we started.
She laughed. It was very soft and feminine, like a young girls giggle. “Oh? Want to make it interesting then?”
What the hell? I figured I would’ve bought her a drink anyway. “Sure.”
“Why don’t we grab that table?” she asked her remaining friends as I paid for our drinks. A bunch of people were putting on their coats, the international symbol for “table freeing up.” We all sat down and I found out all about them. They worked for some company based on Long Island and were in New York for a conference. They had gone out to have a few drinks to celebrate the amazing year Sophie had managed to put together after replacing the dope that had had her job before her.
Sophie and wound up telling me all about her job, all sorts of information I didn’t quite understand about stuff I generally had no interest in. I was riveted. It was about her and that made it intensely interesting. Not only was I listening but actively involved in the conversation. She had a wonderful way of making sense. She spoke like no one I’d ever heard before. Things completely alien to me were being described with sentences I’d never think to string together and it all made perfect sense. This woman was amazing.
We chatted for quite a while before the beer rental man came knocking. I excused myself to use the men’s room and when I returned Sophie broke off from her conversation with two of her friends and patted the seat next to her. “Welcome back,” she purred as I sat back down. “By the way, are you wearing underwear?”
I chuckled embarassedly as I looked around quickly to notice that all her friends were engaged in their own conversations and hadn’t noticed her question. “Uhm, no…” Before I had the chance to ask why I had the answer to my earlier question of what it would feel like to have her hand cup my balls.
“Your fly is open.” She smiled. “You should always remember to check before leaving the men’s room. On a side note, I completely approve of your grooming habits.” It took a second for me to remember that I kept my functioning parts shaved. She turned back to her friends. “Brian, did I tell you that Ian here makes guitars?” She was diabolical.
“No shit? That’s pretty cool. What kind?” asked a sans-tie guy with a blue oxford half unbuttoned over his “Reeces Feces” tee shirt.
