Well It Could Really Happen

I watched her from across the room, on the other side of the bar. She was sitting in an alcove in the wall. The white couch she was on was full of her friends, laughing and chatting away carelessly; waving their cigarettes and drinks around dramatically as they threw their bodies around her. She was in the center of it all, you see, the gravity of the whole affair. Her friends (though I can’t imagine her keeping company with such friends), wanted to be closer to her as she made them all laugh with her wit and envious of her beauty and presence. I watched her for sometime, a sleek and sexy thing in a tight little black number that made a generous showing of her décolletage and those red lips she touched up too often... The lipstick was probably called something stupid, I thought, like rose bed, seductive rouge, or blood rush…

Then one of the generic tall, dark and handsome guys she was with managed to shove his way to a seat beside her. He leaned onto her with an animal wanting in his cloudy eyes as he caressed a hand down her back. I nearly got up to pop that guy but she took no notice as if he was nothing more than a bit of air and went on to light her cigarette. It cast a smoky veil over her features and I quickly took another drink and ordered another. Truth was, I realized, that I would have given every last cent out of my pocket to be that bloke and that was the sorry reality. The thought made me thirsty, so very thirsty.

I heard her laugh again; not one of those annoying piercing laughs but a melodious unconcerned one. Immediately I looked back at her and saw that guy finish whispering something in her ear. She laughed again but suddenly caught me staring curtly at him and slowly pushed him away and stared back at me with quite unaffected as if this has happened before. It seemed like an eternity that we were in our own little world where she and I were the only real thing in this room of hollow falsities. And then maybe it was my drink, perhaps the fourth, fifth or tenth, but I grinned back at her. A shameful, unromantic, schoolboy grin. It hung between us for a bit until she was pulled back into conversation.

I stared at her a while more wondering if she would give me any sign of recognition. And as she took another drink from her vodka tonic her wide, femme fatale eyes flickered up at me and a smirk played on her blood rush lips.

Well it could really, really, really could happen. Yes it really, really, really could happen.