Dulcet

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                              Snapshot #31
                                 Dulcet
                                (nosex)
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                 (c) October 2007 - All Rights Reserved
                  Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
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End of week students filled the Shelter nearly to bursting.
Management regularly bent the fire regulations on Friday nights as a
mixture of alcohol, hard rock, smoky haze and gyrating
twenty-somethings contributed to the local university economy. The
cover band was unusually decent: the lead singer's voice ranging
deftly from Bon Jovi to Brian Johnson to Axl Rose. The crowd seemed
appreciative, singing the choruses and spinning wildly on the
hardwood near the makeshift stage above busy bartenders. Beer
bottles and daiquiris crossed the polished bartop in a constant
river that rivalled the Mississippi. The atmosphere vibrated, steamy
and hazy.
The girl perched casually atop a barstool. Her dark hair cascaded
like a waterfall across her shoulders, defying the oppressive air 
in the Shelter, each strand shimmering with her laughter. While 
nursing a cola, she bent her head to speak to another girl at her
table, their mirth unheard and unnoticed by the crowd. Even sitting, 
her daintily crossed legs seemed to rise like athletic skyscrapers,
disappearing beneath the hem of her skirt towards a cloudless
azure sky. Her breasts, perfect for her petite frame, gently
swelled beneath her pink blouse.
I'm uncertain why she caught my eye. The girl was not a model,
not remotely the type of girl that I'd normally pursue. In a crowd,
she didn't stand out, I was sure, except possibly to me. Perhaps
it was her easy and quick smile; perhaps it was her carefree
demeanour. Students passed between us, most inebriated, some
gyrating to the pounding bass. But she remained, happy with
her small group of friends.
A total of fifteen guys approached her while I watched from my
small cramped table at the back of the bar. My friends laughed and
hooted, imbibing heavily and contributing to the general outbound
alcoholic flow from the bartop. They didn't seem to notice that my
attention had seriously wandered from the ongoing conversation
featuring girls, cars, and breasts. With a practised ease, the girl
gently rebuffed each of her fifteen suitors as easily as turbulent
water flows around a lighthouse. Some were obviously drunk, some
jocks, some nerds -- none turned their affections to her friends,
though in a classic sense, her friends were far more physically
striking.
Once she caught me staring at her. Before I managed to avert my
eyes from her face and close my mouth, she smiled and slowly nodded. 
Swallowing heavily, I forced myself back into the conversation at 
my table. Our conversation had wandered into steam tunnels beneath 
the campus. However, steam tunnels couldn't hold my attention long
against the onslaught of the visual Siren atop her seat.
When I extracted myself from the tunnels, and raised my eyes
carefully to glance at her again, she was gone, slipped into
a throng of students like a schooner into the night.
Glumly, I returned to the tunnel conversation and how one might
arrive in Admin from Engineering without risking an encounter with
security. Overall, I didn't participate much.
Slowly, I became aware that the conversation at my table
had diminished and everyone's eyes were turned in my direction.
Puzzled, I began to turn until soft but firm fingertips touched my
cheek, trailing down to my shoulder. I straightened, closing
my eyes. Warm breath tickled my ear.
The hard rock music faded into the background. The crowd shrank
until there was only a soft scent of peaches and a fiery presence
behind me.
In a dulcet voice, she whispered: "You want to get out of here?"