The sound of high heels falling on the dirty cracked sidewalk echoed off the dilapidated brick walls of the nearby buildings. A lonely petite figure strode briskly down the dimly lit and surprisingly empty back street of the city's light industrial area. Pausing at an intersection, the pale light of the nearby lamp post revealed an Asian woman whose name was Winnie, a nickname she had come to accept instead of her matronly real name of Winifred.
"Where the hell am I? Where's a damn taxi when you need one," Winnie grumbled to herself. "Maybe I should head towards the bright lights over there. I just might find my way into the bustling Las Vegas entertainment core and get out of this mess. You would think that being in the desert, it wouldn't be chilly. But once the sun went, it got so fricking cold that my nipples are rock hard and achy. The only things that are keeping me warm is walking fast and being mad at Mr. Nerd-Jerk."
With quick and purposeful strides, Winnie continued down the darken street, fuming to herself. "I should have never gone on that that blind date with Mr. Nerd-Jerk...or whatever his Indian name is. The moment I laid eyes on him I knew it was a mistake, but Jan, my loving best friend with whom I came with to enjoy a Las Vegas shows and some gambling, convinced me to give him a try. Ha! All Jan was interested in was Nerd-Jerk's best friend, Aryan-Whatever. Man, did the two of them dump Nerd-Jerk and me as soon as they could to run away for some nooky.
"I should have caught a cab back to my hotel after that. What an idiot I was for getting into Nerd-Jerk's car and letting him drive me off the beaten path. He said it was a 'shortcut' but what he meant was a 'shortcut' into my panties. When I refused to get hot and heavy – ewww – the bastard had the gall to dump me – left me stranded in the middle of nowhere.
"And does my best friend Jan pick up my calls? No. Probably because she getting her brains banged out from her vagina! Shit, well, at least Jan has some form of love life. As for me, ha, I'm just steaming jealous because I'm thirty years old and still a damn virgin. What the hell is wrong with me?"
Those who knew Winnie would say that she might have been appealing if not for her somewhat no-nonsense demeanor. She was so blunt and direct to the point that many simply said that she was abrasive and totally lacking in any social graces or skills. What many didn't know was that Winnie's approach to people was largely due to having grown up in a house of silence with her two deaf parents. In their house, speaking and the expressing of emotions was done through finger and hand gestures; not through verbal content, tone, or inflection. With such an upbringing it was little wonder that Winnie often seem awkward or stilted in her interpersonal interactions.
This disadvantage was further complicated by Winnie being a librarian. For while the permeating environment of silence of the library was a blanket of comfort for Winnie, it served to complicate her dilemma. Besides being silent much of the time and indulging in her life's passion, reading, Winnie had very little contact with member of the opposite sex other than answering questions or checking out books. As a result, Winnie felt little need or urge to enhance her appearance since her men and romance live in the printed pages of the surrounding books and her vivid imagination and fantasies.
As an avid practitioner of palates and yoga, she had a flexible and trim five-feet-one body with a flat stomach, round firm buns, and shapely toned legs. She was blessed with large orange-sized breasts which on her small frame looked huge. Her boobs were soft but firm enough to protrude noticeably from her chest as did her delicious cherry blossom nipples jutted half-an-inch up for an enticing a perky look. All and all, Winnie had the potential to be provocative...if only she didn't downplay her physical assets.
Winnie's delicate Japanese facial features could have been enhanced with a touch of makeup; contact lens could have replaced her granny-glasses, and her mid-back brown hair could have been released from her stark bun. Something more form-fitting attire could have also flattered her physical attributes that her standard shapeless shift or jumper easily obscured. A sensuous lacy bra that would have displayed the jiggling tops of her of her bosom and might have offered a welcome relief to her old maid industrial-strength bra that suppressed and constricted. But most of all, Winnie needed to lighten up and not walk around with a deadpan look on her face which scared away or intimidated members of the oppose sex.
That was every man except Slim, a tall lanky dude who looked like a combination of a refugee cowboy and an urban hustler. He just happened to be leaning against his parked truck and watching Winnie as she angrily strode towards him. "Hey little lady. Where are you headed this fine evening?"
When Winnie vented her anger and frustration, demanding to know where the hell she was, Slim response was a tolerant chuckle, "Whoa. woman, we just met. I don't know what kind of burr you've got wedged up that cute butt of yours, but you don't even know me from Adam. You could at least kiss me before you ream my ass for something I didn't do."
Winnie had never met anyone – much less a man – who could be as blunt with her as she normally was to others. Rocking on her heels, she hastily stammered an uncharacteristic and emotional apology that brought her on the verge of tears. When she blurted out how the night had been a total disaster, Winnie felt like a complete idiot the instant the words left the tip of her tongue.
"Hey, hey, cut yourself some damn slack," uttered the strange man in a friendly and calming tone. "Shit happens. But you're lucky you stumbled upon me 'cuz this is a mighty dangerous neighbor for a single woman such as yourself after dark. By the way, people call me Slim, and you are?"
When Winnie stammered her name, Slim smiled and said, "Well, that must be short for 'Winifred' which sure ain't as bad as my formal name – 'Malcolm.' God, can you believe that? What twisted parents would name their son that?"
After a shared laugh between the two of them, Slim said, "Look, that ass-wipe of a date of yours sure dumped you on the wrong side of the tracks. The Strip and downtown Vegas are over there, but to get to it you'd have to cross the rail tracks or double back some ways to avoid the freight yard. Now, I know you don't know me from diddly-squat, but I could give you a lift – that is if you don't bite my head off – back to whatever hotel you're stay at."
When Winnie naturally hesitated, Slim just said, "Hey, it's cool. If I were in your shoes, I'd be wondering 'who the heck is this guy' and whether you should trust me. Let me start off by saying that I happened to be here 'cuz I had a flat on my way back to my trailer in the RV park at the city's limits. That of course would be after a probable detour to my favorite watering hole for a bite to eat and some liquid refreshment. However, when I finished changing my tire, I couldn't help but notice the stars tonight, and just how quiet and dark this place was. Kind of peaceful in my way of thinking.
"Anyway, that's because I like silence...maybe because I'm a librarian at a local community college down the road a bit." Then pulling out his wallet, Slim fished out a battered faculty/staff identification card for a stunned Winnie who then confessed that they shared the same profession and love of silence. Before she knew it, Winnie shared she how she had grown up with silence and signing due to her deaf parents. She readily confessed that sometimes she struggled with how to verbally express herself.
This brought a soft chuckle to Slim's lips as he said, "You could have fooled me, Winnie. But..." Then in the dim light to the nearby street light, he held up his hands and gestured, "Fingers say things better than words."
