Her skirt rode up her thighs as she sat, just enough to be on the acceptable side of brazen so she didn’t care to tug down.
Her boot heels locked nicely into position on the brass fender of her barstool, just enough to stop her legs shaking, so she didn’t care to disentangle them.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bottles and tried to put some manners on her hair. She winced as her knees touched the cold glass of the bar counter fascia. So she shifted to her left, leaving her heels in place, and put her scabbing up knees to one side.
She ordered brandy and refused the ice without politeness, and tapped her fingers until it arrived.
She drank it before she paid and asked for another, watching the barman’s eyes as he telegraphed an impending group of vultures coming from behind.
Four suits without their ties, too many buttons opened, and mouths that needed to close. Suit one, beer-mat in hand, slid his arm across the bar counter as he approached her.
‘My last girlfriend hurt her knees like that’
She turned her head to look at him, but only into his eyes. She clinked her wedding ring off her glass and watched him look down at it and smile that it didn’t mean anything.
‘Carpet burn after our last session, know what I mean’
She lowered her glass and rested in on her thigh. His eyes followed.
She leaned slightly over and whispered in his ear, watching his colour drain and his pupils dilate.
She lowered the second brandy to her mouth as he walked away and touched himself.
Suit two waited a few moments before nodding a third drink to the barman. She shook her head and ordered her own.
‘I betya that’s not a yoga injury’ he said as he pointed to her knees.
She picked a skewered olive and held it between her teeth, biting down hard and snapping it in half.
“Maybe you need a rub, get rid of all that tension’, he smiled as she chewed the olive.
She gestured him forward and whispered in his ear, watching his face flush. She spat the stone into a napkin as he walked away and licked his teeth.
Suit three and four came together. She ordered ice in her brandy and clinked it as she swirled.
‘So you told my friend over there that you’d glass his bollox?’ one of the suits said.
The other suit put his hand on the back of her barstool.
‘And my other friend says that you hurt your knees on your counsellors teeth’
She smiled as their bravery grew, and moved in closer so she could smell their office, their lunch, their hair, their lust.
She turned in her stool and put her fingers in her mouth.
She whistled a shrill sound that startled them and they turned as the swing door to the bar burst open and a growl filled the air, deep and guttural.
She patted her scabby knees and the growl came to her side.
She finished her brandy and picked the ice cubes from the glass. She put the chipped pieces down their open buttons.
She spoke aloud for the first time:
‘I fell over my Husky’
She sashayed as she left the bar,
her husky beside her, Northern Girl
four suits watching.
It goes without saying that the people on RB are a fantastic and generous bunch. Part of the excitement of writing stories is wondering what certain people will think of it. Reading comments on one’s work is one of life’s greatest pleasures and during the small amount of time I’ve been on RB the inspiration to write has mainly come from fellow bubblers. One such inspiration today came from Lisa Baumeler who commented about having scabby knees !! (sorry Lisa). She’s an amazing photographer and this little ditty tries to connect her scabby knees comment to one of her pics.