I don't think Cupid has any forethought or planned technique as to his love matching. Impishly he flies over a gathering of people, loads multiple arrows into his tiny bow, draws back and aiming high lets them fly. Then giggling mischievously, he watches as the little arrows of love rain down randomly on the prospective lovers...
Our eyes met for the briefest moments, his continued on, to scan the room, then returned to mine. Maybe he felt my gaze, maybe he liked what he saw, or maybe I was the only thing fairly interesting in the room at that time. His eyes stare straight back at me. They are so hard to read with the strobe light's flashing beams and the shifting of neon colored lights.
I kept looking over the crowd, but had singled him out from the rest of the crowded bar on the first pass. The group of men he was with was rowdy, drunk, overpoweringly noisy, and even with the pulsating beat of the loud music. He stood quietly leaning against the wall, proud, aloof, and just occasionally swigging a mouthful from the glass in his hand. He looked bored, a slight frown puckered between his eyebrows. Whenever the neon beams flashed, his eyes turned to slits against the glare, he defiantly was not enjoying himself. Seems out of his element, like fish out of water, which made two of us.
My workmates had convinced me to come out on the monthly work's night out. "Come on," They said, "it will be fun. You'll love it. It's a new come, try it." "Yea right." It was noisy, bouncing, hot, stuffy, and I was being ignored by my supposedly mates. I guess my face must have held a worse frown than his. I glance over to the exit, wondering if I could make my escape, but hanging near the door was my boss, eagle eyed Harry. He wouldn't let my escape go unnoticed. I would be taken into his office on Monday, and be given the "Were a team." lecture.
Swallowing the last mouthful of stout from my glass I make a beeline for the bar. Weaving through the throng of chatting groups, I head subconsciously towards the end of the bar closest to him. I use elbows and my shoulders to ease my way through the hovering crowd as they jabber noisily to each other. Their voices rose to bellows, just to be heard by there friends standing next to them. Leaning against the solid support of the bar, I wave my empty glass randomly in the air hoping to catch the busy eye of one of the overworked hassled bar workers.
A gentle nudge brushes my arm. Turning, I look straight into his dark eyes. He is breathtakingly handsome I get butterflies. The flashes of the strobe lights make it hard to define the true tone of his eyes. The vivid greens, yellows, and reds of the music's flashing lights danced within them keeping me transfixed. Long dark lashes curl away from his now humor filled eyes. He was laughing at my hypnotized gaze. Blushing I drop my eyes back to the bar counter. Through my peripheral vision, I watch as his arm holds out his empty mug and a bill note, as he joins my attempts to catch the eye of the bar staff.
"Too damn busy in here tonight, I hate these special nights. Can't get a bloody drink, a man could die of thirst." his voice carries in that low, but clear tone, with that masculine husky base. Not wanting to bellow, he had leaned close to my ear as he spoke, a thrill-filled shiver runs through my skin. Who is this man that after just a brief glance and a few off-handed words could cause this ripple of excitement in me? Turning to reply, I was too late, his empty glass stood on the bar. I scan through the throng surrounding me. Finally catching sight of his back as the exit door closes behind him.
"You're next, what do you want to drink?" I turn back to the bar my mind fighting to remember what I wanted. Stumbling out with the first drink I can think of, disappointment blurring any sane thought. Nursing the liquid I had received, I sip it occasionally. I stay lodged against the bar not caring as I get jostled, and nudged by the drink seeking people around me. The heavy beat of the music mixed with the drunken shouts and laughter make my head swim.
Overlaying all the pounding noise, was the cloying smell of humanity enmeshed together, cigarette smoke, sweat, alcohol, fresh and stale slopped beer trodden into the floor by many feet over the years. All mixed with various perfumes, aftershaves, the prominent overlay of all the intense smells of urine, and the toilet disinfectant. They try to conceal it with, but the two smells just mix together to make a more evilly sickly aroma. That wafted through the club every time the toilet door opened or closed.
The sudden urge to run out of the crushing noise which overwhelms me becomes too much. Angrily I shove my way through the crowd. Uncaringly, I push past my bosses annoyed stare. I force open the door and let it slam closed on the noise behind me, reducing it to a gentler, muffled roar.
I move away from the clubs steps, drawing in deep breaths of clear fresh air. The throbbing in my brain eases with every inhale. A heavy rain is falling and it feels so good after that club that I tilt my face up to the darkened sky reveling in the refreshing feel of the chilled droplets. A group of lasses hurried by as they, laugh, and chatter away as they swish past me on their way the club. Breaking the spell they make me aware that I was gazing up the heavens with my arms raised in supposition in a monsoon like down pour. No wonder the ladies had been giggling at the sight of me, beware the weirdo village idiot.
The street was deserted, peering through the gloom of the downpour, the dim streetlights reflect off the road's wet surface. Deep puddles are everywhere around as it must have been raining heavy since our group entered the club. An especially large puddle of rainwater had formed at the other side of the street disappearing into the gloom of the darkened shops doorways. I watch as the splashes of raindrops hit the surface of the puddle while my mind decides what to do now. I should go home, seems the obvious plan, but the thought of entering that flat alone did not appeal to me in the slightest.
A shifting of white movement catches my eye, and the muffled deep sound of a stifled cough makes me peer deeper into the darkened doorway. Then a shadowy figure steps forward, hair slicked against his forehead as the rain cascades in rivulets down his face, only to be lost in the widest cheeky grin. His once white shirt cling to his body as it shimmers in the wetness. He would get first prize in a wet T-Shirt competition if I were the judge.
His body is very well toned, the clingy cotton shirt shows a finely defined six pack, his trousers cling snugly to his legs. With hands stuck in his pockets, and shoulders hunched against the rain, he slopes his way towards me. His socks and shoes squelching with every soaking wet pace he takes. "You took your time, I've been getting a little damp waiting for you."
"I, I, I, didn't know that you were waiting." I stammer out.
"Well you do now."
All normal ability for the art of conversation betrays me as my brain empty of all thought. I stand there with my mouth open, struggling to regain the ability to form sounds, and all I come out with is, "You're gorgeous." Oh my god I said that out loud. Turning on my heels I spin off down the street. I rush away in my embarrassment, to remove myself away from him. Another pair of running footsteps is behind me and the splashes of water as he pounds through puddles to close the gap.
