Nursing her drink at the bar, she wondered why she was still there. Her friend had met someone and was long gone. Many men had sat beside her. They were drawn in by her black tight fitting outfit and the curves of her curly hair, ample ass, and bulging breasts. Her black nylon shirt fit tight against her tits and was cut very low, leaving little to the imagination.
Her dismal mood, however, quickly sent them scurrying away. When they realized a look down the canyon between her big round boobs was the best they would get from this dark brooding woman, they made their excuses and wandered off to seek other costumed candidates on this Halloween night.
Halloween, that may have been why she continued to sit. Being a crotchety pumpkin on a barstool somehow seemed a grain better than one alone at home. There was one other attraction for which she remained, one she couldn't seem to pull from.
He was sitting in a corner booth completely alone. He was dressed as a cowboy, all in black, and wore a mask over his eyes. His black beard was heavy and long, tapered thinner as it hung below his chin. He had been sitting there the whole evening, barely moving except to sip from a coffee mug.
She could tell he was tall and muscular but could not see his eyes. Nonetheless, she felt as if he had been watching only her the whole evening. All night, she had been stealing glances over at him. All night, she grew more and more intrigued by his quiet stillness.
He had done nothing, showed no interest in her, yet she felt compelled by him, and fascinated. It was like he inhabited a dark den of other worldliness amidst the noisy, drunken, boisterous crowd.
Ordering another Jack and Coke, she told herself it would be her last. Another man sat beside her, and made a clumsy obvious attempt to bump his arm against her tits. She ignored his words as the bartender brought her fresh drink. The man loudly announced he'd pay for it, and she said nothing as he passed over the money. She glanced at the man in the corner booth and he was as still and silent as always.
Half listening to the drunken, sloppy, come-ons from the man beside her, she looked into her glass and felt like she was finding courage. It was as if that man in the corner sat taunting her, challenging her to step out of her world and into his. Though he showed absolutely no indications of even noticing her, she felt as if he was there for her. To reach him, she would have to leap a chasm of uncertainty and danger.
As she tried to understand the odd yearning and fear she felt for the man in the corner, the man beside her tried to touch her tit again. She sat up and leaned away from him, and glancing at the lecherous, greedy, look in his eyes, she found the impetus to get off her stool and begin walking to the dark corner.
It was the longest walk she ever taken. At one point, she stopped to put her hand on the bar, steady herself, and shake her head a bit. She ran a quick drink history count in her head, she'd only been nursing her third.
Everything had become distant and surreal, as if the booth in the corner stood through a vast sea of foggy thickened darkness. She took a deep breath and put her hand to her forehead then ran it back through her long curly black hair.
