I walk into the bar, my nipples hardening from the air conditioning. It's hot outside, incredibly sweaty in the shade. A chill runs up my spine as I see her again. I followed her here, though I'm not sure for what purpose. Something akin to magnetism has drawn me thus far and I find myself helpless to stop it.
She is a year or two younger than I, with bottle blonde punk rock hair. She is wearing an obscene little mini skirt and a ripped t-shirt covered in hand written slogans and anarchy symbols. I can see three tattoos and numerous piercings from across the dimly lit bar. I feel rather plain in my little cotton dress and sandals. I feel awkward and shy, a wallflower nearly six feet tall and out of place in the half full rocker bar. I nervously play with my curly hair moving sideways towards the bar.
"Gin and tonic, extra lime," I say to the bartender, my voice faltering. Why is this woman affecting me like this? I'm no lesbian, though I have entertained fantasies from time to time. But that was all an abstraction, never a contemplation of an actual planned act, and this... well, I'm not sure what this is yet. I gulp down my drink for courage and order another. Looking over to my new obsession, I see that she now has company at her table, another black and white clad punk, her hair buzzed off but for the bangs. They are joking around with one another, laughing at crude jokes.
Screwing my courage to the sticking place, I take my drink and start moving toward her. When I'm ten steps away she looks up at me, a little curious and just a bit contemptuous. My breath leaves me, my knees wobble, and I feel my panties get dampened. I continue waking toward her, but I feel as if I could freeze to this spot, savoring this moment and this look forever.
"I'm Amy," and I don't know why but I want to get hot and sweaty in your bed.
"Great, Amy, now why don't you fuck off?" she snarls, with a bit of a sideways smile to her friend.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but it's just that..."
