When Sally Meets MynbyBrookell©
She walked in and my world stopped. I stared like a hormonal teenager, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She wasn't the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, she wasn't the fittest, nor was she particularly well dressed. I can't pin down what it was that captured me, but I was hooked.
Part of it was her walk! She strode with a confidence I had never seen in anyone. Not an arrogant walk, but a walk that said, 'Here I am, regardless of what you think.' There were no apologies in her movements, but no brashness either. Since I always feel like my walk looked like a newborn horse trying to rise up on her spindly legs, I have always been attracted to people who moved well. I do just fine dancing, and I run like a true racehorse, but my walk will always be gawky in my own eyes. Her walk was magnificent!
She was with several people, but they faded into the background. She was the center attraction without anyone really seeming to defer to her. They headed toward the back and got on the nearest pool table. There were five of them with her, two guys and three girls. They were obvious friends and regulars with the bar. I didn't see anyone order, but the waitress brought over drinks, including a light-red wine for Her.
Her smile was infectious, even from across the room I found myself smiling because of something someone said to her. I couldn't hear it, but when she smiled, it warmed me. There was a touch of mischievousness in that smile, and the angle she held her head told me she was capable of anything. She started telling her own story that had her friends and a few nearby people laughing. Good, a sense of humor!
Her hair was a non-descript color, some brown, some auburn; a slightly lighter streak down one side told me that she probably didn't color it. No phoniness about her appearance, it showed her confidence as much as her walk did. Her hair was simply brushed back, with enough of something to hold it, probably a spray rather than something heavier. For some reason it hung a bit heavier on one side of her face, but it swung nicely to her movements.
Her face was striking, large dark eyes, full eyebrows, not those tweezed to death things to many girls still do to themselves. Light make-up, a touch of a lip color, and hardly any eye make-up, but with her eyes she didn't need any. She was slightly olive-skinned, or so the lighting in the bar made her look. I guess her heritage might be Latin or Greek, but there was more than that in her background. She had a face that was heart-shaped, very Asian, but those eyes were Slavic, or my own heritage would disown me. Large, round, dark eyes; I wonder if she could see in the dark?
She wasn't very tall, about 5'5 or so; she was in tennis shoes with no socks. Her jeans were tight, not painted on, but a nice fit showing a nice figure--a very nice figure. Generous hips, slim waist, and full breasts; the body of someone used to physical work, but not the hard lines of an athlete or addicted gym nut. She was wearing a skin-tight top, with an open shirt--a men's denim shirt, over it. It would billow open showing her curves without making them look like they were on display. No sign of a wedding ring, but that didn't mean too much nowadays. I wonder if she was connected to one of the guys in her group. No, there was no one in particular, but one of the girls was hanging a little possessively, but She didn't seem to reciprocate.
She started playing pool and when she leaned over the edge of the table, the view was breathtaking. I saw a couple of guys enjoying the view in a much more obvious manner. I was at least far enough away to not be obtrusive about my interest. Her focus for the game was pretty intense, but only during her shot. In between shots she was lively and talkative. It was weird watching her. I don't know which view I preferred more; when she was across the table from me I could see her face and that look of total concentration was fascinating. But when she was on the near side of the table I was blessed with a remarkable view of her bottom stretching that denim fabric in all the best places. From the side her shirt hung down denying me a view of her heavy breasts, but the line of her back, ass, and leg was a great substitute.
She played well, which drew more attention. Several people lined up to take the table away, but her determination kept her winning. No betting, which I liked, although I saw several side-bets between other people.
I also noticed that she didn't drink much, another thing I liked; she was drinking just enough to stay sociable. The waitress brought her another, but when the waitress indicated who had bought it, she declined, politely. I wonder who . . oh I see, one of the guys admiring her ass bought her the drink and she turned itdown.
As the waitress left, the guy stood a little bit belligerently. Even I could see trouble from my seat. I debated about helping her; but something told me she would be just fine. The belligerent asshole moved to the pool table. He got behind her, for a second I thought he might try something physical, but he said something I couldn't hear. The people around the table reacted--but not her--she continued her shot.
The asshole wasn't very patient, as she pulled back her stick and he touched it—knocking it to one side. Her control was remarkable; she held up her shot and slowly stood up. Then she turned and caught fire! That is the only way to describe it. When she last faced this way she was the picture of niceness, fun, and jokes. When she turned to look at him she was an elemental of fire, her gaze could have burned through steel and when she aimed it at him I am surprised he didn't expire on the spot. He quailed as he tried to meet her eyes, failing like a cowed dog. She looked like the most dangerous person in the world. Her gaze smoked the very air for just one more second, then it passed and she bent back over the table to shoot while the troublemaker slunk off away, no longer worthy of her interest.
Like nothing had happened, she made her shot and the game continued. I turned my back on her for the first time all evening and sipped my Irish while I thought about her. She is amazing! Strong, but not overwhelming! Supremely confident in herself, but not arrogant! Beautiful in a real way, not artificial! I could see her on a horse, probably an Appaloosa, because spotted would be her speed! I turned back and saw two other people playing pool; the inconceivable happened while my back was turned, she lost.
I looked for her, but didn't see her. Her friends were still there; maybe she was in the loo? A low husky voice spoke from over my right shoulder, "I didn't!"
I turned, it was her, I looked at her in surprise!
"I didn't lose. I wanted a break from playing." She sat at the stool next to me. Her shirt billowed open. I tried to stop myself, but my gaze traveled down from her face to her waist and back up to her eyes.
I expected her to be annoyed at my not-so-obvious look, but she was smiling.
"So you read minds?" My first words made sense in my head, but when they came out they sounded a little flat, so much for showing off my sense of humor.
She looked at me, apparently reappraising me. "No mind-reading involved, you spent all night staring at me and then when you turned back to the table you reacted when you saw I was missing. Are you always so transparent?"
"Not that I know of, but you certainly caught me off-guard."
"When I snuck up on you?" Her weight came off the stool; she was an instant away from leaving.
"Nope, when you walked in!"
She settled back down on the stool. I felt like I passed some sort of test.
"Touché! There is more to you than meets the eye. Why the stare job? You shook up a couple of my friends."
"Sorry about the staring, I knew I was doing it, but I couldn't help it."
Yea, why not! I thought to myself. "Because, at the time, it seemed like the only thing to do."
She laughed. Whew, she laughed. Why does that make me feel so good?
"So now what do we do?"
"Lady, I am clueless, this is new territory for me."
"You never picked up someone in a bar before?"
"Lots of times, but never a girl?"
"Oh shit, you're straight?"
"I fucking was, right up until you walked in."
"Hell, from your stare I figured you for a lez who was hoping I was." She looked at me. " OK, but if you are tugging my chain, I am going to kick your ass."
"I only yank chains when it's required, but in truth I am so straight, the idea of having sex with a girl always turned my stomach."
"You really aren't shitting me are you?"
"This is so weird! All right Straight, I am going to take you at face value. My name is Myn, and you are?"
"Sally." I stuck my hand out and she took it. I was touching her. She held my hand and I could feel the heat from her skin. And I got turned on! This was nuts, she takes my hand and I am all excited? What was wrong with me, I was trembling!
"Well, Straight Sally, we need to get out of here."
"Wha . . .?" She lost me briefly.
"You are wound up so tight, you might burst on me." She was smiling. "Denny?" The bartender appeared. "A bottle of your Irish to go."
"Myn, you know I can't do that. You gotta hit a store."
"Denny, a bottle of Irish, charge me by the shot if you have to." Her tone firm, my heart skipped a beat.
"OK, but I'll meet you outside with it. This crowd isn't going to see me sell you a whole bottle. They'll all start bugging me."
"'K, Den, thanks."
She took my hand and we headed for the door. She looked over by the pool table and her friends were watching, suddenly I blushed. They all knew what was going on, even if I wasn't totally sure.
Two of her girlfriends looked all happy, the other glared daggers at me. The guys were watching, but with little or no expression.
Myn put her arm around my waist and guided me to her car. A small sports car, for some reason I was expecting a pick-up. I have to do something about my expectations; I had a feeling she was going to trash any of them anyway.
We stood by her car and waited for Denny. She stood close to me, not in a proprietary way, but more like making sure I was aware of her. I couldn't have been less aware of her if she was on the other side of the planet. I closed my eyes and inhaled, the fresh air after the smoky bar was a relief. The air had a taste of strawberries, her perfume? She was looking at me, just looking. I hoped she liked what she saw. I am tall, thin as a rail, black hair, and pale skin. I am not beautiful in any way, no matter what some guys tell me when they want me. I am an athlete, a runner, which is unusual for my height, but there is something about running that just works for me.
She was looking at me, appraising me, but it wasn't like all my boyfriends used to do. She was just taking me all in, but there wasn't a single judgment on her face; it was like she was looking at me for the first time. I couldn't tell if she liked what she saw, but I liked the fact that she wasn't so easy to read.
Denny arrived with a bottle in a brown paper sack. I had to laugh, it was wrapped tight, which told the world it was a bottle--so much for being discreet.
She paid, pretty expensive by the shot, but I guess she didn't drink Irish whiskey, so she wasn't perfect. How did she know I was drinking Irish? They all look alike in the glass. I was feeling nervous. What the hell was I doing? Going off with a perfect stranger, OK, so she was only nearly perfect. Goodness knows she was so sexy . . . I gotta stop this line of thinking; this is what got me in trouble the last time I left a bar with a stranger. That certainly turned out bad.
She opened the door for me and without a thought to my own car--I slid in. Her car fit so tight, like a leather glove. Surprisingly, there was enough legroom, one reason I usually avoid sporty models. I felt so low to the ground in her car, like I was sitting in a chaise lounge chair. The engine roared to life, rumbling with leashed power. When she slipped the leash, we took off in a spray of stones. Usually macho starts like that turns me off, but it seemed part of her personality, or else I was making excuses because of how she affected me.
She drove with skill and the same focus I saw on the pool table. I shifted and turned a little to watch her. Her eyes watched the road, but she knew I was looking. I started wondering at just what I had gotten myself into. Second thoughts, no, more like first ones! Her hands confidently turned the wheel as we moved in and out of evening traffic. She was probably speeding, but I couldn't see the speedometer to see. It didn't matter, I felt safe.
How the hell did I feel safe? This is nuts. I was with a stranger, speeding in a little tiny sports car, going to someplace I don't know. Is it the fact she was another woman that made me feel safe? I know right now if she was a guy I would be nervous as all get-out. I never go off like this without knowing a person first, well not since that one time. Where the hell were my 'single-woman-paranoid-tendencies' now?
I must have tensed up. "Relax! I don't bite, unless you want me to."
I know damn well she wasn't looking at me, I guess she was as aware of me as I was of her. I closed my eyes to get my head together and I swear I could still see her. We stopped for a light, one of the few she got caught at. This time--she turned those dark eyes to me. "Like what you see?"
Swallowing a smartass retort. "Jury is still out, but the jury foreman is hammering at my forebrain to get my attention."
Laughing, she smiles and the atmosphere in that little car cleared up.
"Look, we are going to my place to have a quiet drink or two and talk. The bar was to crazy!"
"Agreed! I can barely hear myself think in there."
"To set your mind at ease, I am not looking for a bed partner. It's easy, as I am sure you know, to find a sheet-warmer. The hard part is finding someone worthwhile."
I was vaguely disappointed that she wasn . . . shit, loose that preconception. At this time a guy would be planning how to make damn sure you would end up in bed. Wish I could just re-set to brain for a while.
With that out in the open, we pull up to a nice apartment building, an old building, with 4 floors, extremely well maintained. Myn introduced me to two sweet ladies who were just leaving, quite a bit older than Myn and I. They kissed her cheek; obviously they liked her, good references!
We went in and ran up the stairs. She lived on the top floor, for some reason that didn't surprise me. Neither of us were out of breath, but we were giggling as we raced up and around each landing. I would have beaten her, if my hand hadn't slipped on the last turn. She grabbed the rail post and made a tighter turn. It felt silly, but it was good to see the playful side of her.
Her apartment was totally out of character, or maybe totally within character since she seemed to blaze her own path. It was an old fashioned apartment full of antiques, beautiful paintings, thick carpets, wall coverings made of weaves and laces. My grandmother would have loved it! It immediately took me to places in my memories that I don't visit nearly often enough. Myn sat me down in an overstuffed couch, while she tended bar from a small foldout area in a bookcase. The only thing missing was the dry, slightly musty smell I remember from my Grandma's home.
Myn turned back to me with two glasses in her hands. She handed me my Irish, a sip told me she made it strong! She sat on the couch with me, curling her legs under her in a pose I wish I could duplicate. If I tried it, my knees would be sticking out over the edge and I would look silly.
She looked at me with a relaxed expression and we waited, for what I have no idea. We sipped in silence, but not a bad silence. We could hear some birds and other things coming in her living room window. The view was to dark to really see anything and the lights on the inside made the glass look opaque. The large window was out of the back of her apartment. She saw me looking and motioned me to come with her. Down a short hallway we entered her bedroom, again a marvel of antiques, including a humungous bed. For one sec I was nervous, but she moved past the bed to a set of French Doors.
She opened them and we went out on a balcony that overlooked a small city park. There was enough lighting to see that it was a sheltered place, almost like an English garden situated within the confines of several buildings that all backed up against it. I couldn't make out the details in the dark, but it looked like an isolated section of the world, free from modern contamination. I loved it!
She stood close to me because the balcony wasn't very large. A small table, perfect for two hovers eating a sun-filled breakfast, filled most of the area. She stood slightly in front of me. I stepped against her and she leaned her head back on me. My hands went to her waist and we stood there looking over the park as the moon came out from behind a cloud and lit everything up with it's silver light.
She turned toward me and for a second I thought she might kiss me, but instead she hugged me. She fit perfectly against me, her head on my shoulder, hers arms around my waist. My chin rested against the top of her head and my arms were around her shoulders. Things felt right!
We went back in and returned to the living room, this time she sat next to me, her back against my side, my arm around her with my hand just below her breasts. We still fit nicely together.
"This is nice!"
"I know, I was just thinking that. I usually don't 'fit' so perfectly against someone, my bony body."
She twisted to look at me. "There is nothing 'bony' about you. You are just taller and slimmer than some people."
"Tell that to . . ." She cut me off.
"Fuck them, you aren't with them right now. You are here with me. I love your height, and the fact we seem to slide in together like two jigsaw puzzles."
Wow, she knew exactly what I was thinking, and she was thinking the same thing.
She started telling me a little bit about herself.
"The apartment belonged to my grandmother, she left it to me. I always loved it and aside from adding a few pieces and keeping it up, this is my favorite place in the world. I have a smaller apartment on the next floor down I usually use when I'm entertaining, but something told me you would like it up here."
Two apartments, in this city? "I love it. It's wonderful."
"Most of my friends prefer to other one, and when they are around I guess I do too. It's a typical modern apartment and I have my office and entertainment center there. A TV would be out of place here."
She got up to refresh our glasses and she snuggled back with me. "Tell me about your place."
"I have a little apartment I got while I was in college. It's small, but when the building converted to garden apartments--you know condos--I decided to buy it. It's homey, filled with a few of my own grandmother's pieces, things she gave me before she passed away."
"I am surprised you like a small place, I was picturing you in a huge house."
"No, I like the hominess of it. I used to travel a lot after college, business here and there. Having my place as a refuge was perfect. Very few of my friends have ever been there for more than just to pick me up. I guess I protected it with a vengeance. My family all lives out of town. I use it as my anchor point."
"I know about those places, this is one. Did you ever bring guys to your apartment?"
"Never, well never a boyfriend, I have a few close friends, guys and girls, who have been there. They tell me it's to small, but they don't understand that it's mine."