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5
Luke
For a moment she looked like she’d rather eat a graham cracker smothered in poop and sprinkled with pubes, but then she smiled, and I thought I’d died on my feet. I knew for sure that my heart stopped while I took in her beauty. That smile. It could start wars and end them. It could definitely bring a man to his knees. I had sudden visions of myself on my knees, doing unspeakable things to her, for her, with her. I shifted uncomfortably, desperately needing to rearrange my junk in my pants, but not wanting to draw her attention to my colossal hard-on.
“Umm…sure, okay, but I really do need to get home, soon.”
“Okay, no problem, I can work with that.” I could. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her that I was intrigued. Aside from wondering what she’d taste like on my lips and feel like on my dick, I was dying of curiosity about a woman who went to somewhere like The Basement alone, then proceeded to ignore everything and everyone around her in favor of whatever the hell had been going on on her screen. It was especially perplexing considering that she was easily the best-looking woman in the room by far. Why would she be spending her Friday night that way?
I motioned to the seat next to her, indicating that I’d sit there instead of opposite, which would have been the more socially acceptable thing to do, but given how loud the music was, would have made conversation almost impossible. She nodded, and slid across the seat, allowing me in.
While sitting side-by-side had fixed one issue, it had created another. I wanted to be able to see her face as we spoke. I turned, angling my body so that I was sideways on the bench seat, facing her, and was relieved when she did the same. She met my eyes, and I noted again that hers were an unusual shade of green—way lighter and less vivid than mine—verging on hazel. I was momentarily frozen, hoping she didn’t notice how labored my breath was, or how my heart pounded. Neither of us spoke for a moment that felt like an eternity. At least not in words, anyway.
The mood was broken by the waitress returning with the drinks, and I used the time to collect my thoughts and take a much-needed breath. She looked at her drink suspiciously, as though she’d forgotten ordering it, so I lifted my glass and raised it toward her.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She returned the gesture with a tight smile before taking a small sip.
“So what do I call you?”
She looked surprised at the question.
“Huh?”
“I’m Luke. What’s your name?” I extended my hand toward her, and she contemplated it, leaving me hanging long enough for me to feel faintly ridiculous, before extending hers.
“Chantelle. Nice to meet you, Luke. So you’re a musician. You play guitar?”
“Yeah, and sing, although my twin brother is the lead guitar and main vocals for the band. I do mostly rhythm guitar and backing vocals.”
“Oh, right.”
She sounded decidedly uninterested, so I changed tack, trying to rescue the conversation. “So, Chantelle, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this, especially alone on a Friday night?” Luckily, she smiled at the use of a dumb cliché. Good. I’d hoped it would break the ice a little, and it had. Brief though it was, her smile had been worth making myself sound like a cheesy fool for. It was the kind that could warm the coldest heart and melt the polar ice caps.
“I stopped in on the way home from work. It wasn’t planned, just a spontaneous thing. A quick drink turned into a long drink or two while I watched the movie. That totally hadn’t been part of the plan, but weird as it sounds, I needed to watch it for work, so I was multi-tasking.”
“That so? What kind of work requires you to watch movies in dive bars in your spare time?”
She seemed to hesitate before answering. “I’m a…teacher.”
What was that about?
“So I took a quick peek, thinking I could squeeze in like half an hour’s viewing, and before I knew it, I’d fallen down the rabbit hole, and couldn’t stop.”
“Which is a neat segue to my next question. You seemed so engrossed in it, I almost wanted to stop playing and come join you, just to see what it was.”
“I doubt you would have enjoyed it. It was Lord of the Flies.”
“Really? The original, or the ’90’s remake?”
She cocked her eyebrow before answering. “What do you think?”
“I think the kind of woman who watches any movie, let alone that movie in particular on her phone in a crowded bar while a band rocks the stage, has to be a purist. Only the original will do, am I right?”
“One hundred percent. You got it in one.” She grinned, and it was game-changing. Life-changing, even. It immediately made me want to earn more where that one had come from.
She squinted at me, as though taking me in for the first time since we’d started speaking.
