Have you ever had one of those days that's just strange, and it feels strange too? Like you just
know
this day is going to be different? I have had some strange experiences in my life, but perhaps the strangest of all was meeting Adelle.
It was a day that had begun as routinely as all the rest: boring, uneventful, unpromising. As the day wore on, though, it started to feel different. Or maybe, I started to sense the difference that was to come... I don't know. Regardless, the way I was feeling was different, and it was obvious enough that I even made comment of it to my cousin - but I digress. Allow me to begin at the beginning.
It was a Saturday. My cousin called me up and suggested we go to the local annual festival that was going on, the Pineapple Festival. I had no real desire to go, but I also had no real reason to refuse, so I accepted. Better than sitting in front of my computer all night, I figured.
After arriving at his place, I was introduced to his 'secret weapon', a bottle of Captain Morgan Silver spiced rum. His plan was to get us buzzed and then sneak the rum into the festival and attract some women with the rest, hopefully to result in 'getting our macs on', as he so amusingly put it. I really didn't hold out much hope for that, since I am neither much of a drinker or much of a social animal, but I decided to go along with his plan and see what happened.
Now my cousin, Neil, is a very competitive guy, and he managed to spark up a competition between us as to who could drink more in the half hour before we were to leave for the festival. I was not wise to fall for this thinly veiled attack on my masculine pride, but for some reason I did not see what he was doing and drank my rum and coke at twice the rate he had set out to do himself. By the time he went off to get the mountain bikes outfitted with lights for riding to the festival at night, I was feeling pretty good, and still drinking. Once we had actually begun our journey, I was starting to have trouble staying upright.
Well, the journey to the festival was punctuated with both of us acting like the drunken fools we were, though he was more tolerant of strong drink than myself, but we managed to make it there without killing ourselves and then paid our ways in. By this time I was just coming off the peak of my drunkenness, since it had been a good thirty minutes since we had stopped drinking in order to make our way to the festival. Neil said something I couldn't hear over the sound of the attractions and the band that was playing, and then took off. I was left alone in a sea of milling people, still marvelling at how numb my face and arms were from just three drinks and a swig or two from the bottle. Obviously, I'm a bit of a lightweight.
It was a festival, with carnival games and a live band, and I began to wander around looking for my cousin, the bastard. He, of course, was nowhere to be found; but as I wandered, I kept noticing the attractive women here and there, and soon I found myself staring at their butts about as committedly as was drunkenly possible. Yes, I am a butt man.
Of course I had no desire to make any moves, since I was too far gone to be able to talk without slurring, and most of these lovely ladies had one of two things going for them - they were either very obviously underage, or they were very obviously taken. So I wandered around, looking at women, and in very short order I had completely forgotten that I was trying to find my cousin. Nobody really noticed me aside from to sidestep me when I was in the way, since I am not exactly a partier if I am too drunk or too sober. My cousin gone God-only-knew-where for the night, I settled into a stray folding chair for a bit and watched the people around me.
It was about this point that I realized I was starting to sober up, and also about this point that I noticed Adelle. She was standing about twenty feet away from me, just inside the edge of the crowd, talking to a couple of guys. Very well formed, slender, curvaceous from head to toes, front and back, and as naturally redheaded as the proverbial step child, there was really no way that I could have failed to notice her, even in my less-than-fully-aware state. She had on a black latex mini-skirt and fuck-me boots when I first spied her, but after blinking and shaking my head, the skirt changed to black and white striped, and her fuck-me boots became platform shoes. That she was a stunningly good looking pale-skinned redhead was enough to make me do a double-take. That I appeared to be hallucinating was enough to really grab my somewhat slurred attention!
I stared at her long and hard at that point, trying to force my befuddled brain to see what was really there, almost having forgotten that what I was staring at was perhaps the finest ass of the century, when she noticed me. At least, I think that was when she noticed me. That is to say, it was the first I saw of her noticing me. She saw me staring slack-jawed at her ass, and it made her grin. But she went back to her conversation with the three guys talking to her, while holding a disposable plastic cup three fourths full of beer she was too busy talking over to drink.
I'd noticed her look at me, and I'd seen her reaction, but I was still a bit fuzzy on the fuck-me boots and latex miniskirt. Had they been there or hadn't they? They certainly didn't seem to be there now. I shook my head again and looked off to the side for some reason, and as I did, I could have sworn I saw the black latex miniskirt on her again!
As soon as my gaze was fully on her ass again, though, it was gone, back to the horizontal back and white striped number that admittedly looked quite nice also.
What the hell is going on?!
I thought. I was half tempted to get up and ask her if she would make up her damned mind if she was wearing latex or not when she looked at me the second time. This time the look on her face suggested amusement, which I somehow noticed despite being fixated on her skirt, almost daring it to change on me again.
Excusing herself from the group, she turned and started walking straight towards me. Of course this got my attention, and I watched her move through the distance between us as if in slow motion, marvelling at how she moved as though she was on a catwalk in Paris. In what seemed like three liquid strides, she was in front of me. Befuddlement and wonder must have been written all over my face.
"I couldn't help noticing you staring at me," she ventured, smiling and looking coy.
"Um, I was just figuring out your skirt," I said, looking back at it once again.
"Do you like it?" she asked, lifting the front of it an inch with a long red fingernail. I hadn't noticed long fingernails before - and all of a sudden her skirt was dark brown leather!
"Oh my God!" I blurted. "It's... it's..."
"Are you all right?" she said. "Here, maybe I should help you."
Out of nowhere, I had the distinct feeling she was feigning worry in order to get me away from the crowd so she could take advantage of me in my current state, but I was not all there and this did not fully register. She half pulled me and half guided me to my feet, put my right arm around her neck, and started off towards the gate. She was a little shorter than my five foot seven, and must have weighed less than one hundred fifteen pounds, but she supported my wobbles as though she was made of steel. It wasn't long before she had us on a straight course to the exit. I was absolutely transfixed by her skirt, watching it intently to see if it would change again.
"I know a place where we can go and sit down in the grass for a while," she said as we were leaving the festival. "Then you and I can talk and get to know eachother and you can figure out my skirt while you're at it, okay?"
The impression that her words gave me was that she was going to let me figure out how to take it off her. I was a prize to her, somehow, and she was going to claim me shortly. But what was a woman this perfect doing even noticing me?