The Battered Leather Jacket.

Cries from hawkers, buskers, buyers and browsers tangle like creepers up a trellis to make the background noise all open air’s have.
“you going to buy anything mister?” a small, balding old greek man asks, he wears so much old spice my eyes water.
“Just browsing.” He gives me a disapproving look and straightens out his moth eaten tweed jacket and walks off.
I sigh and breathe in the musky, dry smell of the marketplace; jam doughnuts, coffee, leather and cigarettes are a few of the overlying smells, the latter makes me feel my breast pocket, Damn I’m out. I stand on tip-toes to see if the smoker looks approachable. Messy raven black hair, a sorry looking leather jacket a, tight denim shorts with black stockings underneath.
“Can I be a dirty, filthy scab and bum a smoke?” I ask, her forest green eyes light up in a smile that only half reaches her mouth.
“Sure thing hon.” she opens the deck and I take a cigarette from the almost empty pack, i can’t stop myself.
“Now that I owe you a favour, how about lunch?” She rolls her eyes but the smile doesn’t even waver from them.
“I guess that would be bearable.” She says teasingly.
“I’m Ryan.” I offer my hand.
“Becky.” She takes my hand, she has a firm handshake.

The cafe sits right in the middle of the market, it’s more of a coffee machine surrounded by chairs then a cafe but you try not to spoil the illusion. I order for myself, then let her order and pay for both. we sit under a umbrella that had once been white but was now a mottled grey.
“So what do you do” she asks She lights up another cigarette with a match, she puts it out by shaking it once.
“Graphic design, I work for an Indie record label, album covers and such.” She is sucking on the cigarette when i say this her eyes go wide in appreciation.
“Sounds cool.” She says smiling.
The food comes, she ordered the chicken salad with blood orange and vinaigrette dressing, My grilled ham cheese and tomato sandwich looks very bland next to her lunch.

She wipes the last peice of chicken around the bowl, trying to get as much of the left over dressing on the bottom onto the peice of meat. We talk some more, about politics, music, young people these days, styles, piercing and where she got her jacket. She takes off her jacket and the loose buisness blouse underneath shows glimpses of a tattoo, swirls and half shapes of inky blackness tease me.
I’m feeling very brave, and I’m so into her, i have to give it a try.
“Maybe I could buy you dinner sometime? Because I really like you…I think.”
She looks me up and down, her eyes fall to the gap in the front of my shirt.
“We can play I’ll show you mine if you show me yours after.” she says grinning evilly, her teath are very white. I look down, have an ‘e’ is sticking out from under my shirt.
“Deal.”

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Tags:

coffee, food, love, lust, market and smells