I can’t be absolutely certain that what happened, happened for the reason I think it did. But I’m pretty sure. And I don’t feel very good about it. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been me, it probably would have been someone else. As much as I’d like to think that Sharon saw something special in me, or something that she liked, I don’t know. I think at that time, in that situation, just about anyone with a penis would have suited her just fine. Still…
Lucy’s Little Longhorn. That’s honest to god the name of the little bar on Burnet road in Austin, Texas. You could, as they say, look it up. I had never been there before that night. It’s one of the many great little hole-in-the-wall places throughout Austin where you can just sit quietly and sip a beer and listen to live music. Along the back wall is a raised wooden stage where the musicians set up and play. There’s a small open area next to the stage for anyone who wants to dance, and the rest of the place is filled with ancient-looking rickety wooden tables with matching chairs. There were Shiner Bock beer coasters propping up a leg of most of the tables in a vain attempt to stop them from wobbling. There is a bar that runs the length of one of the walls, complete with brass rail.
I was there to see Karyn Poston and her Krystal Pistols. She’s a country-western wonder of a tall, substantial girl, is Karen. She wears weathered cowboy boots, a big cowboy hat, and a Texas-sized belt buckle with the Lone Star on it. I had seen her a few weeks before belting out a few Johnny Cash tunes at one of Austin’s many famous “hoot nights”, where the local artists cover famous songs from the chosen artist. That night I planned to catch the whole show. But, of course, things don’t always work out the way you plan, now do they?
I got there early to be sure I’d get a seat, and had my choice upon arriving. I sat near the back, to be a little bit further from the speakers and closer to the bar. I was sipping on a beer and thumbing through the Chronicle, the local weekly paper with all the movie and music listings, and tapping my toe absent-mindedly to the jukebox, when she came up.
“Are you here alone?’
“Yes.”
“You mind if I share your table? It’s probably going to get pretty crowded, and I don’t want to stand up all night.”
“Sure, have a seat.”
“I’m Sharon, by the way.”
“Hi, Sharon, I’m David. Nice to meet you.” I started to stand as I shook her hand, but she waived me back down into my seat.
I would estimate Sharon’s age somewhere in her early to mid-forties. She was wearing blue jeans, and a white blouse that hugged her curves nicely and allowed you to see just a hint of the lacy bra underneath. Her breasts looked full and firm, I guessed a large C or even a small D. She framed them nicely with a black vest and finished the ensemble with a black belt with silver studs. I don’t normally notice a woman’s shoes, but hers were a very severe, constrictive-looking black lace-up pair of the sort that fashionable women everywhere swear are comfortable, but which look like a de Sade torture device.
As we sat there talking I began to take more notice of Sharon’s defining characteristics. She had large, intelligent brown eyes that sparkled as she spoke. She had high cheekbones, attractive but not pronounced the way they would be for an emaciated super model. When she smiled slight crow’s feet would appear, adding character. Her hair was also brown, without a trace of gray. It was cut in a simple, professional style, straight without elaborate curls or feathering. It was parted on the side, and came down just to her shoulders. She was a woman that you might not notice as you walked in the room, but if you took the time to look, you’d realize that she was very attractive.
I hadn’t really noticed the rest of her body as she had walked up and introduced herself. But by now I was starting to get interested and was curious. When she offered to go to the bar and pick up the next round, I got my chance to see the rest of her. She was about 5’ 8” I’d guess, with nice slender legs that the jeans hugged nicely. Her belt was cinched tight, accentuating the narrowing of her waist. Her hips flared out sensually to a beautifully rounded posterior. Her body was full and lush, and, I imagined, soft and feminine. I started to wonder what it would look and feel like without the clothes.
And she caught me wondering. One moment I was staring at her ass and the next moment she had turned and started back towards the table. But I was still staring waist high, and apparently the look on my face spoke volumes. When I broke my trance and looked up at her, she had a knowing look on her face, and her lips turned up at the corners into a reproaching grin.
“And here I thought all you wanted was beer,” she said, handing me the bottle. She held on to it as I tried to take it from her. It was only when I looked her in the eyes that she finally let go.
“Sorry,” I said, turning six shades of red and taking a long drag on the beer. When she didn’t speak, I glanced sideways at her, trying to figure out what her reaction was going to be. She just sat there looking at me. Just as I was ready to crawl under the table, she busted out laughing.
“David, it’s OK,” she exclaimed between giggles. She grabbed my forearm with her and leaned forward to meet my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not the first guy who ever looked at my ass.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of pervert or something.”
“I don’t think you’re a pervert. I just think you like my ass.” I started blushing all over again when she said that, and was again speechless.
“God, you should see your face right now. Lighten up.”
“OK. But could we talk about something else for a while?”
“You don’t want to talk about my ass any more?” she said, maintaining her devilish grin.
“Let’s talk about the GNP of Peru or something, all right?”
“OK. You’re off the hook. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You go to the bar for the next round. I want my turn.” Blushing for yet a third time, I covered my face in my hands. I only uncovered it again when I felt her hand on my shoulder, which I took as a signal that everything was all right.
“OK then. It’s settled. Now, are you a big fan of the band?” Sharon had an engaging way of speaking that let you know that she was actually paying attention to what you had to say.
“Actually, I’ve only seen them once before. A couple of weeks ago at the Red-Eyed Fly.”
“Oh, yeah, where’s that?”
“Down on Red River. They played at the Highwaymen hoot night.”
“The what?”
“The hoot night. It’s a fund-raiser where a bunch of bands get together and do covers of a band.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“How about you? Have you seen them before?”
“No. I didn’t even know they’d be playing tonight. I just wanted to get out and have a drink, and this place looked interesting when I drove by.”
“Do you like country-western music?”
“Yeah, I guess. I listen to a lot of different music.”
“I think you’ll like this then.”
We continued chatting about nothing in particular as the place began to fill up and it got closer to show time. After a while, we were both empty, so it was my turn to go to the bar for a beer. We hadn’t talked further about my peccadillo from earlier, but it was still at the forefront of my mind that she might be looking me over as I got up and walked the few feet to the bar. I even put on a little show as I stood waiting for my order to be filled. I bent at the waist and leaned on the bar, sticking my ass out in an exaggerated fashion to give her a good look. As I turned to head back to the table, I was disappointed to find that she was looking forward at the stage, and not at me.
But at least she had good cause to be looking there. The band was slowly making its way through the crowd and around the equipment on the stage. In a moment they would be tuning up the guitars and getting started. I handed her the beer and she thanked me. Pointing towards the stage, she said, “That’s her, huh?”
“Yep.”
“She’s a big girl.”
“She’s got a voice to match.”
“This ought to be good, then. Here’s to big…voices,” she said, as we toasted with a clinking together of the bottles. I could only chuckle at the apparent joke. Before I could come up with a witty retort, Karyn strummed her guitar and the show began. It was pure country, as she stood stock still on the stage except for the tapping of her toe, and belted out the songs with a voice straight out of 1950s Nashville. Both Sharon and I tapped our toes right along with her. Almost immediately there were couples two-stepping and twirling near the stage.
After a while the waitress came around, and we ordered another couple of beers as the music continued. I was getting a nice little buzz going by the end of the third one. I ordered a fourth to keep it going. Sharon and I hadn’t been talking, or even looking at each other much since the music started, concentrating instead on the stage and the music itself. After the fourth beer, I knew I was going to have to hit the restroom before long. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I excused myself and went off. As I went in I heard Karyn announce that they would play a couple of more songs and then take a short break. I was glad that I had beaten the crowd that would undoubtedly be in the bathroom at the end of the set.
When I came out of the bathroom I was startled as I almost ran headfirst into Sharon. I assumed she was headed for the ladies room next door down. “Sorry, but I think we lost our table,” she said. “I got up and someone took it. It might take a fist fight to get it back now.”
“OK, well, I don’t mind standing if you don’t.”
“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere else.”
“Didn’t you like the music?”
“Oh, no, it was fine. I just feel like going somewhere else. Can you walk me to my car?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” We navigated our way through the crowd, out the door, and into the parking lot. The first thing I noticed when we got outside was that it had cooled off quite a bit since I had gone inside. It had been warm enough earlier that I had left my coat in the car. Now, though, I was shivering a little. Sharon reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. She hit the button on the key chain to unlock the car, and I noticed the lights flash on and off on a Lexus sedan a few cars away from where we stood. It was the only foreign car in the entire parking lot, and, I guessed, easily the most expensive.
