Edward Champion's Return of the Reluctant

overheard

Lunch. Talk distracting me from gripping Rankin.

He was mid-forties, clutching a leather beret in his hand, piebald wisps streaking the sides of his skull. Thin, hoping for last-minute virility with a leather jacket and a tight T-shirt. The loudest voice in the place, at a low-key salad bar near Tadich servicing day traders. Walls consisting of fridges stocking beverages. She was his lunch date, very large frame, sunken eyes with circles beneath, reddish locks, constantly staring at his empty salad bowl hoping it would fill up so he could shut up, only asking him questions. He didn't seem to get that his cant was boring the pants off this lady. That may have been his intention.

- well, the craig's list ad was phrased right. the right words, the right kind of people. when you've got the gift of gab, as i do, sky's the limit as the boys and I say.
- the boys? what would you do if someone else answered your ad?
- yes ma'am if i was to hear from another lady and it was to work out no prob one heartbeat. i have nothing to hide about my masculinity. nothing. whatsoever. that's why the two of us are here right? i mean, you get it, don't you?
- i suppose.
- and that's the beautiful thing about life and why it seems to be working with us. we have similar interests and i know

Sitting with right leg propped to his left, left arm draped behind him over his chair, moving his torso in for the kill.

that it's meant to be if only for an evening. or that i can count on you to keep this between us.

She smiles.

- you're certain?
- oh, absolutely.

Trying out twinkle from twenties.

- how do you like it?

His voice starting to lower, but loud enough.

- what?
- up the ass? in your mouth? i can piss on you if you like.

To her credit, she doesn't bat an eye. She's aware that they're both attracting attention. In fact, she swallows the last of her sandwich. Then she replies.

- can you be my bitch?
- what?
- if you're so confident, can you be my bitch?
- well, i
- just for one night. i want to see you squeal.
- we don't have to talk about
- oh of course not. but if you're man enough, if time isn't a factor, then you can take it any way i want.

His arm drops. He leans back. She smiles broadly.

- i should be getting back to the office.
- no, bitch. you do what i say. let's go.

He gets up. She follows. All eyes pretending not to overhear stare at them. I think about this lady molding this smug little man to suit her peccadilloes, wondering if this is part of the act, and smile.

Posted by DrMabuse at March 30, 2004 03:26 PM | TrackBack