#MWBB 22 : Right Now

I will never forget the night Jamie texted me, asking, “Dinner?”

I’d restrained myself admirably, responding, “Where?” instead of “With you? Oh, hell yes! Not even Victoria of the RED movies could stop me!”

She’d texted back, “I’ll B there N 5”

Five minutes later, I’d had a shower, dried my hair, put on my deodorant and cologne, shaved, and gotten dressed. I never knew I could move that fast. I mean, I never moved that fast to get to work, no matter how late I was. When she knocked on the door, I jumped into my boots, and opened the door in one smooth move.

She didn’t ask. She threw both arms around me, and planted an open mouth kiss on me, her tongue exploring my teeth, and my tongue. There are times there are no words to say. Times I just can’t talk. Sometimes, I think that’s a good thing.

When she’d had enough of the kiss, she grabbed my left hand, and raced down the stairs, to her car. She got in on the passenger side. I briefly hesitated, wondering what was going on, deciding, “Don’t ask any questions, stupid. Just go with it.”

Sitting in the driver’s seat, I asked, “Where to?”

“I need music and a drink,” was all she said.

Every alarm bell in my head went off at one time. I swear to God I saw the Lost In Space robot going ‘round in circles, flailing it’s arms around, screaming, “Danger! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!”

But, hell, it was Jamie. The most gorgeous gal I’d ever known. And after a kiss like the one she’d greeted me with, I wasn’t going to run away like a 5-year-old kid, screaming, “Oooo! Kooties!” Who knew? Maybe I’d get lucky and she’d plant another of those on me. Maybe she’d pull my arm over her shoulders, and snuggle a while. Wherever we wound up.

“Music and a drink?” I thought, rapidly reviewing the list of every place I knew that served food. And coming up empty. Music was the big problem. Drinks were easy. Chili’s, Margarita’s, or any of a dozen other places would work for that. But music?

That meant something like a nightclub, or dance club. I felt my brain cells running for the hills. The loudness, the colors, the sensory overload of a club overwhelmed my ability to cope with it, and I wound up sitting there like a statue. But, Jamie wanted a club. So, I’d find one.

Midnight’s. That was the name of it. They had a sign out front for a live band. One I’d never heard of, of course. And it was Ladies Night, with women having no cover charge to get in. I took here in, and we sat down at a table. She ordered a Black Russian. I ordered a Sprite, knowing I would be driving.

We sat there, listening to the music, watching people dance. I’m not much for dancing, and Jamie knew that. When the first slow dance song started, Jamie stood up, grabbed my hand, and drug me out on the floor. She pulled me in close, put her head on my shoulder, closed her eyes, and pressed her whole body to mine.

My brain cells had just flat given up trying to do anything at that point.

Jamie had two more Russians. And pulled me out on the floor every time a slow song came on. After a couple of hours, she said, “Take me home. My place.”

I had no idea what that meant. I just wondered how the heck I was going to get home, since we’d used her car. I never expected her to drag me inside and plant an even bigger kiss on me. I never expected her to whisper in my ear, “Stay with me tonight.” And I certainly never imagined she’d strip naked right after saying that.

Jamie. Naked. Planting a whopper kiss on me. Pressing her whole self against me. Putting my hand on her waist. Grinding her hips into mine.

I didn’t make it home that night.

682 Words
@LurchMunster

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My entry, in all its unedited glory, for week 22 of Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other entries in the challenge.

#MidWeekBluesBuster – Week 06 : A Rainy Night In Soho

I didn’t live in Soho, and never would. But, it was a rainy night, and I couldn’t help but hear the rain striking the windows to my apartment. It wasn’t a downpour, just a good, steady, soaking rain.

I turned out all the lights, then pulled the curtains aside, so I could look out, over the street. I pushed the ear buds for my music player into my ears, and turned on my music. Wouldn’t you know it. The first song it randomly picked, “A Rainy Night in Soho”. I’m not a fan of that song, and for a moment I considered pushing the next button. Instead, I let the song keep playing.

I looked out the window, watching the rain fall and the black clouds shift around in the sky while that song played. I saw a couple hop out of a cab, him first, opening his umbrella, and helping her out. He paid the fare, and the two of them walked, hand-in-hand, into the building across the street. I don’t know why, but that made me smile. Maybe I was imagining they’d had dinner together, at some expensive restaurant, then returned home for a night that started with betting naked, and went from there. Maybe I was imagining I was him, and when we got to the apartment, I turned on the music, and took her in my arms, and we slow danced, just enjoying the feel of holding each other.

Whatever the reason, I knew it was something I shouldn’t have done, because it made me remember. Her. I sometimes wondered why we have memories. Why we just can’t forget, or erase them, like we can erase files on a computer. “I don’t like that song any more, I’m deleting it.” Or “That book makes me cry, I’m deleting it from my library.” But that’s not how our memories work, is it?

And by the end of that damn song, I remembered how she’d told me, one day, “We will always be friends.”

I’d asked her, “Really?”

She’d smiled, and hugged me. “Yes. Always.”

The next day, she was gone. I woke up, and she’d left during the night. I’d called her number, but got no answer. I’d gone all the places I knew she went, and never found her. She left. And never said, “Good-bye.”

That was two years ago. And that night, watching the rain, watching that couple from the cab, listening to that stupid song, I stood there, looking out my window, and remembered her, and her last words to me. “Yes. Always.”

Sometimes, I wish I could erase my memories of her.

451 Words
@LurchMunster

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At the request of Ruth Long, I decided to try my hand at Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other entries in the challenge.