I picked up the redheaded guy by his collar and carried him towards the door. My colleague, Harold, had control of the bearded dude and the fight was definitely over. The bartender, Lilian, gave us an appreciative glance as we rid the bar of the two troublemakers.

To be honest, this was my favorite part of the job – pulling fights apart and tossing guys into the parking lot. I did it as often as I could. Well, second favorite part. My favorite part was when Doreen came into the bar on Thursday nights. My god, she was a beauty. Doreen was her real name but a lot of men knew her as Tawny. That was her hooker name. The owner, Joey, had a no-prostitution policy at the bar but Doreen was the exception – everybody knew it. Doreen, or Tawny, never did business in here. She came here to just be a normal woman and I was happy she did.

You see, Doreen was just incredibly beautiful. She was in her late thirties but looked younger. Quite thin, long legs, big boobs, probably fake, blonde hair, cut really short and a smile that could melt an ice castle. I loved her and she seemed to like me, but not in that way. I don’t know if she ever had any boyfriends, she never talked about them to me. Probably hard to do with “the life.” She said she preferred it that way – no complications, just sex.

I know what you’re thinking – no, I never got with her – pay or no pay. Couldn’t afford it on my wages. She had a website and I had been there hundreds of times. Nice tasteful photos of her in lingerie, etc. and even a list of prices – one hour, two hours, whole night. Way beyond my finances. Which was cool, though, because the thing I liked most about her coming in was how the rest of the people acted around her. For me and the rest of us working here, Doreen provided high quality entertainment.

This was a Thursday so I thought we might see her again, unless she had an appointment. But it was already after eleven so I didn’t have my hopes up. Except for the fight between the two dinglebrains, there wasn’t much going on. We were what most people would consider to be a “dive bar”, so we didn’t have live music or even a jukebox, but the people in the neighborhood still enjoyed coming here. Lilian and the other bartender always gave generous pours and it was a fun enough place. And there was me and Harold in case things got rough. We prided ourselves on making sure there was no broken furniture or blood or brains on the walls.

I was about to go chat with Lilian when Doreen appeared in the doorway. As soon as she walked in, everything always brightened. It seemed like the radio music was quieter and a bunch of heads swiveled. She had on a fantastic yellow number that barely covered her gorgeous ass. There was a spray of sparkles that shot down from the neckline in a winding river down to the bottom hem. Sleeveless, so her long, freckled arms showed from shoulder to fingernail. High heeled slingbacks, of course, her signature, also in yellow. I took a quick breath and I think the other guys were doing the same. Most guys already knew the drill and pretty much left her alone.

But not everyone. There was always fresh meat for Doreen. She sat in her usual booth and I went to say hi. She smiled and tapped the front of my chest lightly. Her touch burned and my heart quickened. She was just so... sexual was the best way to describe her. She picked the right profession for sure. She could make most men lost control of their faculties with one look.

After the waitress had brought her usual drink, Jack and Coke, I stood behind her booth like I always did. It wasn’t so much that I was protecting her, but more so I could hear the conversations as they happened.

Victim number one was already looking her way from his bar stool. She made sure not to look at him, making him even more interested. He looked like a douchebag, honestly. He wasn’t a regular, and most women would probably think he was good looking. Tall guy, thick mustache, black hair that was swooped across his forehead. Sure enough, he started walking towards Doreen’s booth. I braced myself.

He had a big grin on his stupid face as he walked up. The bar was loud so I didn’t hear the back-and-forth, but I knew how it went. He would say, “Mind if I sit here?” and she would say, "No, you cannot." He would try to start a conversation, she would shut him down in some embarrassing way. He would try again, she would offer a verbal jab that would make him wobble on his feet. Yep – there’s the wobble.

Usually that was the end of it, but not this fucking guy. He made one last attempt as he whispered in her ear. Why do guys think women like that? She just smiled and lifted a manicured finger for him to come closer. He leaned over and she whispered back to him, lightly holding his chin. He jerked back, unsteady on his feet again. Was he crying? He wiped his face and practically ran to the men’s room. Doreen looked over at me and smiled. I was smiling too. It was the highlight of my week to see these guys reduced to little bitches when she tossed them aside like clean bones.

Like most Thursdays, this would happen several times a night. The regular single guys knew better than to approach her. They had all tried and failed. So the new guys were the ones, and everyone else got a chuckle out of it. Mean? Cruel? Yeah, I guess, but it wasn’t any worse than these reality shows.

It was almost midnight when another man started walking towards her. Almost looked like a little boy. Short guy, skinny, black-framed glasses, short-sleeved striped dress shirt and I think he had a slight limp. In short – a nerd. Good god, what would Doreen do to this guy? She would tear him to bits and turn him into a little puddle on the dirty floor.

I moved closer so I would be able to hear the exact words she used to mincemeat this dude. This was going to be fun.

"Hello, miss,” he said as he came up to her booth.

“Hello, what’s your name?” Doreen asked pleasantly. Maybe she was taking pity on the guy?

“I’m Earnest,” he said. His teeth were a bit misshapen but he did seem clean and well-groomed, he just didn’t have much to work with. This is what a guy who plays Red Dead Redemption all day looks like when he tries to get laid. Pitiful.

“Nice to meet you, Earnest. I’m Doreen. What do you have to say to me?”

“Well,” Earnest began. He should have been nervous talking to a woman this beautiful but he didn’t seem to be. “I have a pickup line that I wish to use.”

“A pickup line? Let’s hear it.”

“It’s about five minutes long, so it is more of a pickup conversation. Are you agreeable to that?”

I could see that Doreen was very amused now. “Sure, Earnest, let’s hear it.”

“And you’ll participate?” Earnest looked at her with his googly eyes.

“I will. I will play along.” I wondered if Doreen was getting soft.

“They call me The River,” Earnest said proudly.

“And why do they call you The River, Earnest?” Doreen seemed to be enjoying this as much as any of her earlier massacres.

“Because I have a tongue like a paddle and a boatload of patience.” He gave her a dopey smile.

Doreen laughed. I had to chuckle a bit myself.

“That didn’t take five minutes, Earnest,” Doreen scolded him.

“That’s not the whole thing.”

“Okay, keep going.”

“Would you like to know my favorite sexual position?” Earned asked. He spit a little on the word “sexual” but none of it sprayed on Doreen.

“Sure, Earnest, what is your favorite sexual position?”

“Cunnilingus,” he stated.

“Whoa, that sounds good. That’s your favorite?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Do you have dick, Earnest?” Doreen asked. Here we go.

“Yes, Doreen, I have a slightly larger than normal penis.” Earnest pushed his glasses back up his nose with his middle finger.

"Okay, that’s good. But you don’t like to use it?”

“Yes, I like to use it, but I was telling you my favorite.”

“Why is eating pussy your favorite position? Most guys don’t even like it.”

“I like it because it reminds me of a symphony.”

“A symphony? Like Beethoven and stuff?”

“Yes, Beethoven, Mozart, et cetera, et cetera. My favorite is Dvorak’s New World Symphony.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“Yes, it’s very good. A good symphony starts out very slowly, sometimes you can’t even hear what’s happening. Maybe it’s just the violins and violas very gently vibrating, a sweet melody that touches you but is completely ethereal, like a lovely ghost who haunts you but is also exciting you.”

“Yes, that sounds nice. I’m sorry, Earnest, but I don’t know much about classical music. It has never interested me that much.” Now Earnest was in trouble, I thought, anxious for why the killing blow was taking so fucking long.

“That’s okay, I’ll explain the terms, Doreen. So we’re starting out Largo, Largo, Largo – that means slow. Very slow music, very slow paddling. Nowhere near the important parts, in fact, everywhere but there. The music shifts around like steam coming from a hot tub. Wafting around, aimless, drifting. As the recipient of this music, you may be wondering where this is all leading.”

“I do wonder, Earnest.”

“That’s okay, it’s all part of the symphony. After a little while, the cellos come in. Cellos are like a big violin and they have a deeper bass sound. There is a vibration to a cello that no violin can copy.”

“Vibration, you say?” Doreen smiled in spite of herself. This guy had already lasted longer than the other competitors. I had underestimated this little guy’s ability to keep Doreen’s attention. At this point, Doreen seemed to be more amused than interested, but it was still impressive that he had lasted this long before running away with his tail between his legs. But that moment was coming, I knew.

“Yes, vibration. The cellos give a foundation for the other strings. But things are only getting started. We are still Largo. Things move slowly but the heat is starting to rise. At each beat, the tempo increases a bit more until we have Adagio.”

“What’s Adagio? Sounds Italian.” I edged closer to Doreen’s booth without being too obvious.

“It’s just a bit faster tempo. Faster beat to the music. Faster paddling. Not frantic yet. Composers tend to build the tension slowly. Largo to Adagio. Patience is the key.”

“What if I don’t want you to be patient?” Doreen gave him a smoky look. She was luring him in for the kill, just like she always did.

“It’s not your choice. You’ll have to be patient too, Doreen.” Somehow, him using her name like she was constantly using his made the power shift ever so slightly.

“Oh okay. Well, please continue, Mr. River,” Doreen said, setting down her drink.

“Okay, I will.” Earnest pushed up his glasses again. “Adagio is a nice pace. At this point, we can bring in the French horns with a light counter-melody. French horns can play very softly, sometimes they even mute to keep the sound light and airy.”

“What about trombones?” Doreen asked, fingering her earring.

“No, absolutely not,” Earnest replied. “Trombones are brassy, we can’t have them yet. We’re still Adagio. But we can bring in the flutes, as they whistle quietly under the strings. Music is all vibration, Doreen. It’s why it feels so good to us. So now we have violins, violas, cello, French horns and flutes. And quietly, ever so quietly, we can begin with percussion.”

“Sorry, Earnest, what does percussion mean?” I leaned in a bit more. I had heard of concussion but not percussion.

“Percussion means drums. Timpani, snare drum, things like that. Now in our symphony, we bring in the bass drum. You might think bass drum would be too loud but it can be played very softly. It enhances the foundation of the music. Boom, boom, boom. It gives a feeling of anticipation.”

“Are we still talking about music?” Doreen asked.

“Yes, symphonic music as well as cunnilingus. I thought that was clear from the outset. Are you following?”

“I am following,” Doreen said quietly. I had never seen her like this. Doreen was a leader, a cruel mistress, a manipulator, not a follower of anyone.

“Great. So the bass drum comes in, pounding but still soft. It takes us from Adagio to Andante.” Earnest held one hand in the air like a conductor, pulsing the beat with his hand.

“Andante? I guess that’s a little faster?”

“Yes, exact-a-mundo. A little faster. Now you can have your trombones and baritones. But no trumpets.”

“Too brassy,” Doreen added.

“Too brassy, right. But the first little bit of brass is always exciting. Brass moves us closer to the goal, and may even touch it but then shies away before edging back closer again. A symphony is an expression of emotion, you see?”

“Yes, I see.”

“Since we are Andante, things are getting heated. But no composer will just take you on a ride from Largo to Andante without falling back again time after time. Increases tension.”

“You called it edging,” Doreen smiles.

“Edging, yes. We push forward and then fall back again. Forward and back. You think we are working towards a climax but then we slow down again. Which leads us to the next stage.”

“What’s that? What’s the next thing?” Doreen had started grabbing the side of her sticky table with one hand while the other was in her lap.

“Allegro,” Earnest said, staring at Doreen directly. I could feel Doreen’s cool facade melting ever so slightly. My elbows were touching the back of the booth, but I was still trying to be as subtle as I could.

“When we move to Allegro, Doreen, we can bring in the tuba and the bass violin. They push the tempo forward with their magnificent, vibrating tones. We’re moving pretty fast now and it seems like the climax is coming very soon. Of course, we have a few detours, diversions and distractions. But things are starting to get loud.”

“Of course, of course.” Doreen’s eyes were glued to the nerdy little fella’s mouth. I could have sworn I saw a bead of sweat coming down her forehead, which was strange, because the bar was usually too cold if anything, especially for thin women in skimpy outfits.

“Allegro is not for the faint-hearted, Doreen. It moves quickly and can be intimidating for the musicians and the audience. A person’s heartbeat will often quicken as the music quickens.”

“My heartbeat is doing something right now,” Doreen whispered.

“Yes, it is normal behavior. For the people who can handle Allegro, there is often a problem when they try to survive the next level.”

“There’s a next level?” Doreen’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, but we should probably leave it at Allegro.”

“No, I want to hear about the next level,” Doreen said.

“I’m not comfortable talking about it. We’ve just met. The next level is very personal to me.”

Doreen reached across to where Earnest was standing. Strangely, he still hadn’t taken a seat at her booth and Doreen hadn’t offered it.

“Tell me the next level, Earnest.” Doreen's eyes gleamed with a purple glow.

“Okay, but you have to tell me if it’s too much,” Earnest said matter-of-factly. “The next level is Molto Allegro.” Doreen emitted a quiet moan at the words.

“It is faster, yes. But that’s not all. Molto Allegro is a bit dangerous. It’s loud, it’s freaky, it can cause a person to descend into madness. You have a feeling that you might just fly apart into pieces if it keeps going, keeps pushing, keeps paddling.”

“I want to keep going,” Doreen seemed to have almost lost her voice.

“We’ll keep going. You must hold it together because we are so close. Always the music is pushing faster, then falling back, but those cycles happen much more quickly now. Each cycle faster and harder than the last. Until, until…”

“Until what? Until what, Earnest?” Doreen croaked.

“Until the climax,” Earnest said calmly and quietly. “The music explodes like a planet that has overheated and pieces of it fly out into the blackness of the universe. The conductor makes his final downward stroke and the audience is left in tears, perhaps, or even unable to walk initially. Everyone is spent.”

“We are still talking about pussy eating, right?” Doreen was fully sweating now and was leaning back against the wall of the booth.

“We are, Doreen. My clothes are still on my body. And you are my conquest.” Earnest smiled for the first time.

“I am, Earnest,” Doreen said.

With that, Earnest walked back to his table where he had been sitting by himself. He got the check from his waitress and was getting ready to leave when Doreen left her favorite table and walked over to him. She bent over his shoulder and talked into his ear and then went into the ladies’ room. I went to Earnest and patted him on the shoulder.

“You know, no one has ever seen that side of Doreen, dude.”

“I know, dude,” Earnest said without looking up.

“What’s your secret?”

“A well-formed vocabulary,” he said, and finally looked up at me and smiled his lopsided smile.