If the bar had been just a little more crowded, I wouldn’t have even noticed him.
He walked in from the snow, laughing and stomping his boots on the entry rug. He was tall and thin with a thick black beard. He walked toward the hostess, and they smiled, greeting each other with a bear hug. As the pair stood around chatting, the man unbuttoned his coat and casually glanced around the bar. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second.
In that fraction of a second, the whole world slowed. I stopped breathing and felt flush with heat. The drunken chatter of the bar receded as desire instantly consumed me, overwhelming my senses. I felt myself window shopping in another world of possibility.
I could imagine this man walking over and buying me a drink. It’s Absinthe. I’m worried I won’t like it, but I do. We have a nice conversation, and I see us in the parking lot after. His hands are in my hair, tugging and pulling my head to the side. His breath is in my ear; it sounds like the ocean and feels like he’s licking my brain.
I see us naked lying with each other on a rug beside a fire. We’re slippery with sweat and sex. I’m on top of him, whispering in his ear exactly what I want. I’m easing him into me with just the right amount of pressure and moving my hips so he can match my rhythm. I can’t get him deep enough, so I sit up and bear my full weight down until I can feel him in me so deeply it hurts.
My imagination shifts, and I can see us in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, warm sun streaming in through the windows. I’m sipping espresso and reading; he’s coming back to bed. He gently grabs my ankles and pulls my feet towards the end of the bed. I’m laughing as he nuzzles my legs apart as he rubs his scruffy beard up my inner thighs. He’s biting my lips and gently sucking my clit. I can almost feel his tongue slide inside me, and I melt into it.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and involuntarily let out a yelp of surprise. I was so entrenched in my reverie I didn’t notice my date had returned with the whisky he had gone to collect for me. The drone of the bar patrons out detoxing from their workday returns, and I am snapped back into the present, no worse for my imaginings.
When I glance back to the door, I see him wave goodbye to the hostess and walk out into the snow, taking my daydream with him. I turned my full attention back to my companion. I take his hand in mine in the way I know means something to him. There is no mythical ‘The One’ for me, but I am content with the choices I have made.
