Small Town Big Man

My veins are hot, my muscles are tingling, and I can feel the fog as it starts to settle over me.

The door swings open and a gust of cold winter air sweeps through the bar, causing the papers in my sketch pad to ruffle. Lifting my head up, I see a man as he turns his back to me and moves to the table by the door.

His shoulders are covered in a thin sheet of snow. As he pulls off his jacket, he gives it a shake, knocking the snow to the ground. Folding the jacket over his chair, he pulls it out and sits down.

He ruffles his hair, brushing the snow off his head, and takes the menu from the holder on the table. I can just make out the side profile of his face, but not his features.

Candice crosses the room, and the two chat for a minute. She walks away, returning a few minutes later, and setting a bowl down in front of him.

I'm trying to see his face, but I can't because my vision is a little fuzzy now, and this angle makes is hard to get a good look. And I’m feeling a little wobbly on my chair as I try to lean to the side for a better view.

Oops. The liquor is definitely kicking in. . .

Pursing my lips, I twist the tip of the pencil against the paper and debate if I should at least give one person a shot tonight. What the hell is the point of even being here if I'm just going to sit alone, and not even try to pick up at least one guy?

Standing up, I adjust my skirt and finish the rest of my drink for an extra boost of liquid courage. I might embarrass myself, and that's okay, this extra layer of alcohol should wash away every last fuck I have.

In a tight V-neck shirt that shows plenty of cleavage, and a short white skirt with thigh highs, my sneakers are soundless against the rickety wood floor. The chucks on my feet are my lucky shoes, it made sense to wear them if I really want to end this night by getting laid.

This is the whole point I'm here.

“Hey,” I say, my voice low and sexy as I sit down across from the man, now eating.

The lighting above his table is dim, casting a dark shadow across his face. His hair hangs down over his forehead, almost covering his eyes, and a thick beard paints his jaw. His shoulders are broad, and his hands look huge as he holds the thin stem of the spoon.

“Hi,” he says back as he keeps his head down, spooning food into his mouth.

“Whatcha eating?”

“Gumbo.”

“Sounds good.” I'm trying, I'm really trying to entice this man into a conversation, but I'm getting nothing back.

“Yeah.” He slurps another spoonful.

“You have a name?”

“I do, just like you have probably have someplace else to be. Right?” he counters me, his voice annoyed and borderline rude.

“Okie-dokie,” I say, slapping the top of the table lightly. “Hint taken.”

Getting up, I head back to my table, and Candice brings me another drink. “Don't mind him. He has his routine and he sticks to it.”

“Yeah, he made that clear.” She gives me a tender smile, then moves back behind the bar. My head goes down as I try to focus again on drawing, and still all I'm coming up with is blankness.

“Hey, I haven't seen you here before.” A man's voice chimes in my ear as he pulls out the seat at my side and sits down.

“Um, yeah, I'm new around here.” My heart skips a beat as a sliver excitement scales down my spine. Finally!

Looking up with a flirty smile, my heart sinks and I'm instantly turned off. My smile quickly folds into a half frown.

He smirks, his teeth yellow and his skin extremely pale. He's got greasy brown hair that's slicked back, and he's wearing a tie-dye shirt with a howling wolf on the front. His breath reeks of alcohol and tobacco, and his voice is scratchy.

“A pretty lady like you. . .” His voice trails off as he leans in, and gently reaches up to try and touch my hair.

Jerking my head away, I clear my throat. “You're from here I take it?” I'm trying to be nice. I don't want to create any enemies, but he isn't going to be the man I take home.

“You know it.” He licks his lips and scoots his chair closer. “So, I'm curious. You have black hair. . .”

“Yeah,” I say, my body curling into itself as I sit my hands in my lap, and I try to push further away. I don't like this man. He's creepy and making me uncomfortable. Red flags are waving everywhere.

“Well, does the carpet match the drapes?” His hand moves under the table, and he gently brushes his fingertips against my thigh.