Table For One
(A Winter Solstice Story)

Writen by
Aquillae
Copyright 12/1999

He marched boldly into the room with a determination that would have frightened an arch-angle. The curls of his perfumed white hair bounced and bobbed with each determined stride. Ignored by the partygoers engaged in their merriment, he increased his pace and stomped toward an empty table in the far corner. He sat down in a huff and, with a barrage of vulgarities and curses, quickly dispatched the scantily clad serving wench in tears.

In his anger he pulled the wig off of his head and threw it down on the table. No one in the room notice the action. He stewed in his anger as he watched the revelers enjoying themselves, all the while ignoring him. In a deliberate show he pounded each elbow down as he placed it on the table, then folding his hands together as if in prayer, rested his firm chin on his hands.

It wasn’t bad enough that he had only just heard of the party at the last minuet. Or that he had to hear of it from that old has-been Tiberius Caesar. No. What really ate at him was the fact that some prissy little wanna-bees had decided to put together a list of the most influential people of the last one-thousand years and HE, of all people, had been left off their god damned list!

Added to that insult was the sight and sounds of that little tight ass bitch Jane Austen prancing and singing for joy at the news that she had been included in their hypocritical list.

But what had sent him into a fighting rage was that Sigmund fool’s suggestion that his anger was due to his inadequate penis size.

He burned hotter now with anger as he watched the miserable horde enjoying the carnal festivities. His fists clenched and his brow furrowed as the intoxicated mass of pleasure seekers failed to even recognize him, let alone acknowledge his presence.

Those prissy little tight asses might have left him off their list, but these friends, fellow tradesmen, had not even considered adding his name to the list during their own discussion.

As he scowled at the people gathered in the room he noticed a young female standing up on the bar. She was naked and searching the room with her eyes for someone. He thought of the many things he could try with such a woman and for a brief moment his mood began to brighten. A sparkle began to twinkle in his dark eyes as he caught sight of her backside.

Katie McN, ignoring the remarks and pleas of the men and women gathered around her at the bar, searched the room for Hecate. She scanned quickly over the room twice with no luck. But as she began her search a third time, she caught, out of the corner of her eye, a glimpse of someone she was certain she knew.

Wiping away the perspiration that had dripped into her eyes, she tried to focus on the figure. She was sure she had seen him some place before. Her memory, slowed by the effects of her merry-making, searched her past for the name that would connect to the face she saw before her. The connections were soon made. Her face, slightly vague as she searched for the information, now lit up with excitement.

He watched as the recognition of who he was began to play across her face. Her hand rose quickly and pointed in his direction. Someone had remembered him. His smile broadened. He would have to think of a very *special* way of thanking this beautiful young lady, he thought.

Katie cupped her hand over her mouth in disbelief as she raised her other to point in his direction. "Oh, my God," she said quietly in disbelief. The men and women gathered at the bar could just barely hear her over the loud tuba playing of Pred and his band. One of them asked her what she had said. Katie crouched down and pointed behind them and cried out, "My God! I found Waldo!"

The room went silent. Pred, never one to miss an opportunity, emptied his spit valve at that moment.

The Marquis De Sade angrily kicked his chair back, grabbed his powdered wig, and stormed out of the tavern.

At another table across the room, Carmen lifted the lapel of her trench coat and pulled down on the brim of her hat.

The End