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Blonde With Attitude on Saturday Night before/after She walked over to me in the bar, stirring me from my revelry. "Can I ask you something?" she said. I had been sitting listening on and off to my friend rob. Rob was with me in the days of social work. He's been in the navy, divorced, now has not one but two children from two different women, short, brown hair with blue eyes and is a nasty mean drunk. We get along fine. I look up at her from my chair. White blouse, blue jeans, blonde hair, blue eyes and attitude as large as her 38 double d breasts. Her nipples got electric hard from my smile, meet, and showed through very plainly. It was eloquent. "Yes?." "Can I show you my thong?" "Sure." She pulled down the back of her pants and pulled up the underwear, turning her hip and running her thumb through the string. They were black. The barmaid was standing beside her. "Can I show you mine?" she asked. "Sure." She turned around and pulled up her sweatshirt and pulled down her pants. "WE CAN'T SEE THAT." Rob said. Rob was getting drunk and aggressive. He helped her lift up the sweatshirt. She wore a yellow thong. "Its blue up front." she said proudly. Later on in the night, Rob had managed to piss off a large part of the bar. It was a good night. Many conversations about God. Many conversations about death. Many conversations about government. Jokes with strangers. Longing looks from girls along the bar. Drifting off into the blonde's eyes, and she unable to look away. Winking at me, making me drop my head and smile. Good, clean, American fun. I walked out of the bar down large stone steps. It was well after two. The bar was named Jim. Aptly, Jim now approached the bar. "This your place?" I asked, knowing it could only be the ubiquiteous jim. He plugged the trachea hole in his neck. "Yes." he croaked. "Its a good place." I said. He plugged the trache hole again. "Thank you." he croaked. I went back to my car, and talked with Rob a bit. We both wanted to keep going, but both knew that trouble lay in any direction at 240 in the am. Eventually he left, and the blonde and the waitress stood behind my car with some friends. I quietly got in my car and started it. There was a knock on my window. The blonde. "I think you're sweet, I just didn't like your friend," Yeah, that's Rob. He's a mean drunk, and never leaves something be in that mood. I looked at her. "Anyway, it was nice meeting you." She held out her hand flat. As a younger man, I wouldn't have known the right thing to do. I grasped her hand and kissed it. She sighed. "Can I have a hug?" she asked. I tugged at the door. "You don't have to get out of your car." she said, and leaned in grasping me in a hug. Cheek to cheek, there was a heat between our skin. "Come back again sometime." she said, "I'm here all the time. My family owns this bar." She stepped away with a throaty laugh. Maybe I will, maybe I wont. Sometimes its key to know when things just wont get any better.
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