A note to the reader. This story doesn't get to the sex very quickly.
Fun fact: This story was inspired by an incredibly elegant young woman I saw in church. She was sitting a couple of pews ahead of me and her pink bra strap kept peeking into view. It's awfully damn difficult to get the full benefit of church when you're wondering about one of the congregation's choices in underwear.
***
Mick was late for his lunch with an important client. As he was about to drive through the yellow light, a black Z-3 flew past him in the left turn lane and cut him off. "What the Fuck?! You're in the left turn lane, you stupid bitch!" he thought as the light turned red and he laid on the horn.
He watched in disbelief as she flipped him off and disappeared around a corner. Angry as he was, her blonde sun-streaked hair, tanned skin, and azure dress made her hot pink bra strap stand out. "Aw right... I'll fuck ya, but it's only because you cut me off and I deserve it." He kidded himself waiting for the light to turn green.
When Mick finished his lunch he was feeling pretty good. While walking out he saw her sitting by herself in a booth. "Excuse me, do you drive a black Z-3?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she responded.
Her voice was very feminine with a musical lilt. It took a second for him to realize what she had said. She sat with her back very straight, very refined. Her face was upturned politely imploring with the corners of her mouth hinting that a smile may escape any second.
Mick felt his stomach flutter and he lost a little confidence. "No. My name's Mickael, you can call me Mick. I thought I had seen you driving one and I wondered how you liked it," he said smoothly with a well-worn grin.
"Are you thinking of buying one... Mickey?" she inquired politely.
"God Damn!" he thought, "She's a pro."
"Is there much difference between that and a Miata? They look an awful lot alike and a lot of car companies are putting their name plates on others cars, for example the Honda Passport is really the Isuzu Rodeo," He babbled inanely as her attention waned.
"I really don't know," she answered flatly, as she glanced around and brushed some hair out of her face revealing a portion of the hot pink bra. Then with disinterest, "You'll have to excuse me, my friend is coming back any minute."
"Be careful on the Plaza, there are a lot of lunatics, I was cut off today, coming here to eat." Mick offered hoping to rally back.
"Really? That's too bad, but please don't worry about me. I'm extremely capable of handling anything I get myself into, " she added dismissively. Her dark skin and blue dress made the visible portion of her bra glow, increasing his sense of loss.
"Man you should have seen the chic I met at lunch, today," Mick told a buddy.
"Oh yeah, what's her number?" He injected with a wry grin, "If it's 328-7448, she really doesn't want you to call. I had three girls tell me that last weekend. I thought I'd hit the fucking jackpot. Then when I called this kid answers and says there aren't any single women there, but when I checked to phone pad I discovered the numbers spells e-a-t s-h-i-t. How do you like that?"
Mick laughed at the joke and headed off to his office. It was a bright sunny Friday in late September. He glanced out the window wondering how many more nice days were left before it was going to get cold. He was having trouble focusing on work and inevitably his mind drifted back to her.
With 15 minutes left in the trading session, Mick stuck his head in his buddy's office, "It's quarter til beer, what are you doing just sitting there?"
Thirty minutes later they were starting their second round which generally continued into the early morning. The hours rolled by while the two drank and watched people coming and going. Around seven Mick saw her coming down the street.
"Sorry man, I gotta go. Do you see her?" he said, pointing and standing to leave.
"So that's how it is huh? Nurse a couple of beers, but as soon as a pretty girl walks by, bam! And all I have to console myself with is this cold pilsner. Ahh, I guess life could be worse," his friend intoned with a crooked grin.
"You'd do the exact same thing," Mick shot back while flipping a handful of bills onto the table. "If I fail, I'll meet you at the Gran Falloon."
"Only if I fail too... and you're easy." his friend laughed.
Mick caught up to her at an al fresco bar. She was sitting alone sipping what he hoped to be a long island. His pulse quickened, as he came up behind her. Once again the sliver of that pink strap beckoned. He smelled her perfume.
Before he had a chance to speak, she stated flatly, to her reflection in the mirror across the bar, "If you want to talk about cars, don't bother sitting down."
"How about if I buy you a drink and discuss your atrocious driving. You know you owe me one?" Mick responded.
She turned and looked directly at him, "My god... that must be the worst pick up line I've ever heard."
No smile on her face, but Mick suspected she was joking. "Would you like another one of those?" Nodding to her nearly full glass, "or just a better line?"
"No if we're going to have a little debate, I'd better give you a chance. I'd like a martini. If I only drank iced tea, in a matter of minutes you would apologize for your boorish behavior," she answered.
"Ya see, I thought I had the upper hand, and it's just not that way, is it?" he laughed while rolling his eyes.
"Dear misinformed boy, I don't pay for alcohol. There are so many well or ill intentioned young men who gladly step up and squander their hard earned money for pretty girls," she said in a condescending tone as the corners of her mouth curled and her eyes smiled mischievously. "And do you know what all of their intentions get them?"
Mick stood silently grinning as she continued her soliloquy.
"I'm very attentive until someone else comes along."
