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Woman of Mystery

Bill Tope

    The girl rose from her barstool, gathered her purse and her wrap, and walked off without a word, leaving the young man sitting alone. “Well, this shit is getting old fast,” he murmured grumpily to himself. Then, raising a finger at the bartender, he ordered another beer. This was number seven, and he regularly limited himself to eight beers. After all, he was driving.
    With his next-to-last beer in hand, he decided he’d better get busy and fascinate some suitable lady, lest he spend the rest of the night alone. He glanced at the clock over the bar: five minutes past midnight. He’d been there only two hours; it felt like four. But, he thought, he’d had six beers, and he didn’t feel the least bit wasted. What’s wrong with this picture? he wondered. Then it dawned on him: he hadn’t smoked any dope in, what, three hours? No wonder he was clear-thinking. And the tavern closed at one; he’d better turn on the charm, and fast. He looked behind him into the seating area of the pub; there were precious few women still in the establishment. Perhaps he’d better lower his standards—just this once.
    He could troll the tables and try to pick someone up, but he discounted that strategy almost at once. Though he was not too inebriated for clever conversation and love, he was clearly too drunk to fight. One punch into his substantial, beer-filled belly, and he would explode like a pinata. It was not a pretty thought.
    Damn! he thought. Now he had to go to the john. Climbing rather unsteadily from his stool, he momentarily abandoned his keys, pocket change, and beer and stepped to the restroom. When he emerged only minutes later, he spied her. A woman. Sitting on his stool and drinking his beer! Now what? Returning to the bar, he stood and observed her. Pretty, he thought. Not stunning, but what did he want, the world? He suddenly had an alarming thought: what if it were not nature but rather the alcohol that made her seem so attractive? Then he sighed. It was getting late.
    She looked at him and did a double take. “Oh!” she said. “Did I take your place?”
    He smiled. “That’s okay. You’re welcome to it. Could I...buy you another beer?”
    Her eyes got huge. “This is your beer!” she said. “I don’t know what came over me; I was waiting for the bartender, and I was so thirsty, and I must have smelled this beer, and... I’m sorry, let me buy you another beer!” She looked so vulnerable.
    “Tell you what,” he said magnanimously, “I’ll buy us both a beer, and then you can tell me your name. “I’m Ellis,” he told her. The dim lighting made it hard to tell, but he thought she was blushing. “C’mon, now,” he said playfully, “you started this.” He smiled.
    “Okay,” she said meekly. He liked her already.
    After their drinks had been ordered, he leaned on the bar and asked, “Come here often?”
    She regarded him curiously, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you thinking of trying to hit on me?” she asked bluntly.
    Ellis froze. She was onto him. What happened to the social debt she felt because of her faux pas? But the beer was beginning to kick in, so he decided to just come clean. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I was seriously considering it.” He looked at her.
    “Well,” she said, “your approach needs some work.” He stared. “Don’t mistake affability for vulnerability,” she told him.
    Yikes! he thought. She really was onto him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured contritely. “It’s getting late and I’ve had a few, and I just couldn’t face going home to an empty house alone and crawling into a cold bed all by myself. My apologies,” he said sheepishly. He drained his beer, grabbed his coat off her stool, and prepared to make his departure.
    “Not so fast,” admonished the woman, whose name he still didn’t know. “Don’t apologize too much. Nobody likes a doormat. You were honest, and that counts.” Ellis folded his coat over his arm and waited, admiring the girl’s looks, which seemed to be getting better with every passing moment. He thought to himself, “Seven beers.”
    “It just so happens,” she said, “that I have an empty house and a cold bed where I live too. And,” she went on unexpectedly, “I would be interested in sharing said bed with you tonight.” He stared, not believing his luck. She wasn’t a hooker; she could tell that. Then what...
    “One thing, though,” she told Ellis. “There’ll be no sex tonight.” He blinked in surprise. “We know almost nothing about one another,” she explained. “And if, like me, you just don’t want to be alone, then follow me in your car.” She got to her feet and donned her jacket.
    “You mean,” said Ellis, “that you don’t...” He left the sentence unfinished.
    “Certainly I do,” she contradicted him. “But not with everyone I meet, and not if they don’t pass this first test.” She smiled invitingly. “What do you say, Ellis?”
    Ellis felt his stomach, acknowledged a muddled brain, and began really feeling the beer. He thought again of his cold bed. “It’s a deal,” he said, and he smiled too. “Do I get to learn your name now?” he asked as they made their way through the door and onto the sidewalk.
    “Maybe in the morning. Most men like a little mystery in their women.”

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