A gentle summer breeze drifts into the darkened bedroom. The sounds of nightfall began to slip in through the open window. The sound of chirping crickets happily calling to each other. He lay quietly in the darkness, smoking a cigarette. Tilting his head, he looked down appreciatively at her thick auburn hair, framing her beautiful face as she slumbered peacefully, using his chest as a pillow. His mind rolled back for what seemed like the millionth time. Trying to see through the fog enveloping his memory. Having lost the last twenty-four hours without a hint of what may have happened or where he had been.
It was Friday night, another no name bar in another no name town that had become the mainstay of his nomadic existence. The bar was dark and the music way too loud for the size of the room. The overpowering odors of stale beer, sweat and cheap perfume assaulted his senses. He sat in the corner, his back to the wall, sipping another scotch and rummaged around the pockets of his worn leather jacket. The jacket was showing it's age, its brown dye worn away in places, its surface cracked and scraped. Yet, it was comfortable and as comforting as a second skin.
Pulling out a smoke, his eyes scanned the seedy establishment inhabited by the standard compliment of clichés. There was the balding overweight bartender in his stained white tee shirt, the old rummies at the end of the bar arguing about the score of some long forgotten sporting event. The aging floozy, with the big hair, too much make up and way too tight clothing swaying dangerously on her barstool while drunkenly slurring the lyrics to another bad country ballad, trying in vain to catch his eye. And of course the pack of good old boys shooting pool and generally raising hell at the back of the room.
As he took another sip of his scotch he unfolded his worn and stained map, looking at it with a slight sadness in his blue gray eyes. A finger slowly traced another road he had yet to travel.
He looked up, mildly amused as the drunken woman with the big hair staggered past. She was attempting what she imagined was her best hip roll. But came off more as a human pinball as she bumped into a chair or two and bounced off the sides of tables on her way to the little ladies room to powder her nose or pass out, whichever came first.
His eyes went icy as he fought down the urge to attack when the boys in the back hurled crude remarks after her, laughing and sneering. He took another sip of scotch and pulled his graying hair into a ponytail. He grinned inwardly to himself. He knew he was not an old man, but by no means a young one either but resigned himself to the fact that before the night was over he would probably end up tangling with one or more of the boys in the back.
Suddenly she was there. Slipping into the bar with all the subtlety of a lightning strike. She made no noise, but the black mini dress, thick auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, six-inch heels and the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous, stopped everyone dead. She glanced his way as she passed his table, the faintest hint of a coy smile tugged at the corner of those full luscious lips.
Crossing to the bar, she leaned over slightly to order a drink, her perfect little behind pushed slightly out. The hemline of her dress stopped just below the gentle curve of her tight little bottom. The scene stirred animalistic instincts within him and caused him to slowly run his tongue along the edge of his sharp teeth.
Getting her drink, she asked the now flustered bartender if he sold cigarettes. The bartender stood there as though thunderstruck but finally nodded his head toward the cigarette machine at the back of the room.
She turned slowly and looked around the room. Their eyes met momentarily as he watched her over the rim o' his nearly empty glass of scotch. What? Was that a wink? The light was dim but he could almost swear that she winked at him. Nah, what would a knockout like her possibly see in his raggedy ass?
Taking another sip of his scotch, he watched as she pushed herself away from the bar and strode to the back of the room. As she moved through the room, the way she walked, her alluring scent drifted over him as she passed, setting his body on fire.
He suddenly realized that the good old boys were dangerously silent and a few had sickening leers painted on their faces as she approached the cigarette machine behind the pool table.
Time slowed almost to a standstill. He could see every movement in sharp detail, almost as if in slow motion. He heard each coin cycle through the machine as if they were hammers beating on a sheet of steel. Her hand wrapped around the selector lever followed by a loud thunk as she gave it a yank. The swish of the pack as it slid into the tray. Time passed in what seemed like years as she bent to retrieve the cigarettes.
One of the men stepped up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, lifting her into the air. Her scream of surprise was slowed to what seemed like a low long, wail. He deposited her onto the pool table and forced himself between her thighs. One of his buddies pinned her hands over her head. The rest of the crowd circled cheering and shouting obscenities.
