Barfly

It was she who first broke the silence.

"They oughta make this an Olympic event, so you could get the gold medal, big boy." I was more than a little pleased with the statement, to be sure.

"It's the company I keep," I responded, smiling.

We must have fallen asleep; the waning afternoon had passed fully into darkness when I was once again aware of my surroundings. My friend awoke and joined me in the shower, where our mutual caresses once again ignited our animal instincts. Barely bothering to towel off, we leapt to the bed, rapidly resuming our sacred dance with unimpaired gusto. The sensation of her flesh surrounding mine was indescribable, and I knew this was right, proper, the way things should be.

It was after eight when we were once again in my car. "Shall I drive you home?" I asked, automatically.

"Good going, Professor; how will I get my car home if you do that?" There was just a trace of the bar slut in her sharp comment, but it seemed almost an affectation; she was grinning when she said it. I think she took it as a compliment that I was in a somewhat addled condition. And little wonder that I was. It was a wonder that I could remember the way back.

The Watering Hole was noisy, harsh and glaring, and we gave it barely a glance on the way to her car. There we embraced, kissed and parted reluctantly. I knew that this would not be the last time.

***

I took my time returning home. Lorraine was waiting. A town council meeting of sorts was scheduled that evening. My exertions left me rather disinclined to go anywhere, but there was business on the agenda that we did not want to miss and, thanks to my activities, we were already late.

Lorraine and I rummaged through the closet, I choosing a tie to wear while she agonized over the choice of a dress. I heard the sound of a hanger being drawn from the rod spanning the closet.

"I just can't seem to choose the right one tonight." There followed a thoughtful pause. "How about this one? How do you suppose this will go over at our soporific town meeting? Hmm?"

I turned toward her, knowing exactly what I would see. There, draped on the hanger she held just below the level of her sparkling eyes and her impish, tempting grin, was the dress in question, a black cocktail dress with a little lace trim around the collar that gave just a hint of a French-maid look and sequins on the bodice, in the middle...