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11:12pm
EST
The girl is leaning back against the bar, a cold Corona in her hand.
She is an attractive woman, wearing blue jeans that flatter her
figure and a white T-shirt that makes her feel young and fresh.
She is laughing at the jokes being told around her, while her foot
keeps the beat of the loud music coming from the jukebox in the
corner. She wonders which man she will go home with tonight, which
car out on the parking lot she will end up in, which excuse she'll
tell herself this time. She puts her hand on the leg of the man
sitting next to her. She is drunk, but so is everyone else. She
leans in close and whispers in the man's ear. He smiles at her,
winks. He offers to buy her another beer, which she graciously accepts.
He takes her hands and leads her to the dance floor. She dances
slow and close, rubbing against him, oblivious to everyone around
her. His hands slide from her waist, over her hips, to her ass.
She moves in time with the music, letting her reservations, fears,
and worries float up and away with the cigarette smoke. The song
ends and he buys her another beer, and another, and another. They
leave together when the bar closes, the man leading her to his car.
He kisses her, sloppy desperate kisses, but she doesn't care. Both
of them have had too many drinks, but he drives anyway. He's won
the game that night; he gets the big prize to take home. He fumbles
with his keys at the door and drops them. They both bend over to
pick them up and hit heads. Their laughter rings in the night. Finally
he opens the door and they stumble through, grabbing at each other.
He pulls her to the floor and undresses her, oddly graceful in his
drunkenness. Tell me I'm beautiful, she says. Tell me
I am like an angel. Over and over he whispers to her, telling
her what she wants to hear, while he takes off her shirt, pulls
off her jeans. She runs her hands under his shirt, over his chest.
Her underwear is tossed in a corner. She unbuckles his pants. There
is little foreplay and she welcomes him inside her. Minutes later
he falls to her side, exhausted and weak, the alcohol taking its
effects. She stays awake and listens to him breathing, slow rasping
breaths. In the wee hours of the morning, using the faint and murky
light coming through the window, she searches for her clothes. A
ray of light falls across the man's forehead and she realizes she
doesn't remember his name. He's naked on the floor, mouth open,
pale flesh exposed to her gaze. She turns to leave and catches sight
of herself in a hallway mirror. Her reflection looks grainy and
washed out. She sighs and closes the door quietly behind her.
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