Eve Quest

“No.” I said and almost added ma’am again, but I caught myself. “I mean I don’t dance to this kind of music.”

She smiled and leaned over to whisper in my ear again. “Do you fuck?”

I turned bright red and looked down. She turned and I watched her walk back to her seat. A navy blue, knee-length skirt corralled two fluid orbs. Her legs were full, smooth and bare. She had a classic, voluptuous body and a swing to her hips that would stop traffic in Times Square. When she reached her table she said something to her friends and they all laughed. My friend Luke asked me what she said. I tried to blow it off, but he kept on and on so I finally told him.

“Damn, son. If I were you I’d take another look at that dame, get over there and tell her yes.”

Easy for him to say, I thought. I hated aggressive women, but Luke just wouldn’t let it go so I finally agreed to send her a bottle of champagne and see what happened.

I watched as my beautiful blond poured two glasses. Her stiletto heals assaulted the dance floor as she walked over to where I was sitting and offered me one of the glasses. Although she spoke in a normal tone, it seemed to me she used a bullhorn. “Here’s to fucking.”

I was sitting there holding my glass like a bump on a stump. She clinked her glass on mine and sipped the bubble wine. I might have been mistaken for a statue.

A broad smile revealed beautiful teeth. She waved her hand in front of my face and said. “Hello, anybody home?”

I snapped out of my trance, downed my drink and said. “Cheers.”

She sat her glass on the bar and extended her hand. “I’m Sheila. Sheila Taylor.”

“Hi, Sheila. I’m Andy Moore. Pleased to make you, I mean meet you.” I’d almost gotten a complete sentence out without making an ass out of myself.

She flashed another lovely smile and said. “Andy, that’s some line.”