I love the sound of clicking heels. Sharp, resonant. Click. Click. Click… In the quiet hall with its high ceiling, the sharp sound of my steps reflects off the shiny surfaces and echoes up above. I try not to think about how irresistible I am. A woman who thinks she’s irresistible can only be outdone by a man who thinks he’s a genius. I am calm. My throat is embraced by the glossy collar of my dress. Long sleeves. Covered ankles. Soon, I will reflect in your brown, gray, blue—whatever—mirrors, but for now, in the dark glass. Burgundy chairs in the Hilton lobby. To fall. To lift my legs up, drop my wrists, and laugh and sing. Later. But today—“to conform.”
Another turn to the right—and—“Go and shine!” Between two small pieces of fabric on my back runs a vertical silver chain, on which I will hang your Martini-soaked gazes. This candy can only be unwrapped in your imagination.
Prim and proud. Devilishly funny, you sit at round tables. These impeccably starched tablecloths, cherry napkins, chilled champagne… Silverware… Pretending to be high society? What a game for the miserable, tired of spending money. If only I could peel your greasy eyes off my back, wash them away like autumn mud… Look, look. That’s all you can do now.
The massive walnut bar. Shiny, polished wood, an equally shiny dark-skinned bartender, and I can’t tell what shines brighter—his diamond teeth or his white shirt. What hides behind your genuinely friendly smile? What can I get you, ma’am? I’d like to pour myself into you. Today and repeatedly. We both love to dream. And we know the rules of the game. No, thank you. I’m waiting… May I?… May I?… Your desires are faster than your tongue. Well, speak!
“May I buy you a drink? Oh, I’m Carl.”
And here’s the first one. Carl. Charles. You bear the name of kings, but who are you? I’ll pay myself if you turn out to be smarter than this walnut bar.
“I’m Emma. Very kind of you. But… may I ask you a question?”
“Of course, as many as you like.”
Gray eyes, black lashes, you train your still young body, cowboy.
“Do you believe there are certain conditions, or rather, conventions, written rules in society?”
Your eyes sparkle. Are my eyes interesting to you? Or is all you want for me to turn my back so you can see that chain from neck to waist again, grab it, pull me close, or even better… But it’s too early for you to dream of that.
“Yes, I suppose there are.”
“And if a woman accepts a drink paid for by a stranger, he almost expects her to say ‘yes’ a few hours later?”
You “bashfully” smile. I wonder, are you really embarrassed? You didn’t expect it, but you’re pleased, though I haven’t said ‘yes.’ My challenge is in the brown pupils. Do you accept the challenge, Mr. “May I buy you a drink?” I have nothing to throw in your face yet, so you’re bold, you say, “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“And if she doesn’t plan to say ‘yes,’ should she refuse?”
You’re a bit disappointed, but you’re surprisingly confident that you’re… Genius? Or an “irresistible” type?
“I suppose that would be fair.”
Now you wait—will I leave, gifting you one last pleasure of my backside, or will another adventure begin for you, one you’ll forget by morning…
“Carl… What a beautiful name, Carl.”
I’m not flirting. I’m very serious. I smile. The traditional mask of politeness.
“You know, Carl, I’d be happy to drink with you if you agree to a couple more questions. Agreed. Wonderful. A glass of Château Clément V, please.”
Wait to undress me, Carl.
“Tell me, Carl, does any part of your life run on a schedule? A standard schedule, perhaps, a routine you follow for a long time?”
The walnut tree of your consciousness is startled and feels cornered.
“Yes, I suppose, besides the work schedule, I do many traditional things…”
“Like…”
“Interesting that you ask, only now I notice that every morning starts almost the same.”
Carl, understand, I’m doing this just for you. I’m terribly bored, but someone has to disturb your sleepy kingdom…
“I wake up.”
I hope! And I can barely contain my laughter.
“Then bathroom. Shower. Breakfast. Small cup of coffee, sandwich, then I brush my teeth and get dressed.”
“Tell me, if you suddenly decided to brush your teeth first, then drink coffee, and only then take a shower, would… Do you think it would be… abnormal?”
“I think it would be irrational; this order suits me well, helps me wake up faster and get in the zone.”
Excellent wine. Carl, you’re a bland appetizer.
“But you wouldn’t feel like you did something wrong? That breaking the order is incorrect?… Think about it, Carl.”
You search in my eyes for the right answer. The jazz intoxicates me a little, the wine a little more. Think faster, Carl. Give me the right answer.
“No, I suppose not. Maybe I’ll even try it sometime.”
You get my smile as a gift.
“Thank you, Carl. Now you’ll understand why I won’t say ‘yes’ to you. Goodbye. Carl! Thank you for the wine.”
Bite me once more. Remember my departing image. Fading, wrapped in questions and that wonderful feeling that you missed something that never began in your life. Could never begin.
No responses yet