It was weird sense of something in the air. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was certainly there. I knew to just go with it; it usually leads me to something good. And that something good walked out the door behind me not even two minutes later. Tall, lanky just enough body to look like he takes care of himself, but not so much that he looks like he lives in a gym. The cut of his pastel dress shirt and dark slacks told me he spent a decent penny for them. Yes, he waited before he followed me out, but I could see him relax on spotting me. That he followed me out of the club proved he liked what he saw.
Horny, just like me, just the way I like them. My inner devil thinks to myself.
You know you’re wrong. My inner angel wags the internal Mom finger at me.
What? I’m grown. The derisive snort is audible as the devil wins this round.
Something Good and I lock eyes as I smile shyly at him. That was all the opening he needed as he walks over.
It’s a shame sometimes, how easy it is.
The perfect mix of honey and harlot I lean against the dark tinted windows of a car at the curb, casually tapping my fingers against the glass as we converse. His voice is deep, rich. He’s charming, witty, a little self-effacing and an actual nice guy. In spite of it all I find myself liking him.
He really could be The Something Good you know…
The damned inner angel, sensing a possible opening, tries to reassert itself, but I’m not having. The perfect mix of harlot and Honey, I outright tell Something Good that I should walk away, that I do not want this to be a one-time thing, heading for the inevitable. And being the type of man I am slowly perceiving him to be, he starts to back away. Still, I can’t seem to stop touching him, the back of his hand, his sleeve, his collar. I make a point of glancing between his eyes and gorgeous lips.
Look at me looking at your lips. Take the hint. Take it!
He pulls a card from his wallet, making me promise to call him. He puts the card in my hand and then quickly pins me to the car kissing me, kisses me like he means it. I cannot help but put my arms around him in response.
I watch him walk away, enjoying the callipygian view of his strong swagger, watching his shoulders tremble from laughing at my I pantomime of smoking a cigarette after the kiss.
What he don’t know…
My eyes drop to the ground for the briefest moment before looking up again. Sure enough, he looks behind him one last time and grins, pantomiming call me before turning the corner. My hand gently strokes my cheek, the feel of his five o’clock shadow leaving a slight, but pleasant burn.
And he was such a good kisser too. Shame.
As soon as he is out of view, I tap the window once. The car engine comes alive and I quickly get in the passenger side, scooping up his pilfered wallet along the way.
My fourth lift of the night and by the quick scan of the multiple benjamins inside the wallet, also my best one.
Something Good indeed.
This week’s Weekly Writing Challenge at The Daily Posts asks us to use a classic storytelling device, the unreliable narrator, in a story story or flash fiction.