Irish Whiskey and Chance Encounters

From across the patio, he saw her emerge from a crowd of people. The voice of the person speaking to him fell silent in his ears, and the crowd around her seemed to fade into a distant background, framing her as she moved. She was effortlessly elegant and yet she looked as if she hadn’t concerned herself with getting ready for this event. She was wearing a sundress with tiny straps over her shoulders, a scooped neckline, and thin material flowing seamlessly to her ankles. It hugged her enough to outline her hourglass figure, but fit loosely enough to leave something to the imagination. Her figure was perfectly proportioned. Shadows fell into the lines of her toned body, and forced his eyes to trace every one of them until stopped by clothing. She had pulled her hair up loosely, allowing attention to be drawn to her jawline, elegant neck, and the outline of her collarbone. A few strands of hair fell in loose curls around her face and neck. Her skin was as smooth as glass and just a shade or two darker than ivory. Her hair was nearly jet black—the contrast striking. Her thick eyebrows drew his gaze to her amber eyes, standing out like jewels in a velvet casing. There was a hint of shine on her lips, but if she wore any makeup at all, it was expertly camouflaged into her natural beauty. He must have studied her for five minutes before he realized he was still engaged in a conversation. He excused himself politely and moved away to a place where he could watch her without being obvious.

When he caught sight of her again, she had been stopped by a handsome young man. She smiled at him, her head titled slightly. He could see her mouthing the words “thank you”, surely in response to the compliments the man was piling on her. She humored him for a few short minutes before dismissing him and moving on. She moved slowly, as if she knew she was constantly being watched. Her every movement seemed planned—scripted—and yet she seemed incognizant of herself, focused only on deciding where to go. She finally found her way to an empty place at the shaded bar near the pool. She seemed relieved to be out of the crowd, but the relief lasted only a few seconds. Another man had approached her, and she began the same song and dance with this man, graciously thanking him for his comments on her beauty. She smiled at him as well, but hidden in her smile was a knowledge that this was to be expected, and after this man would come another.

Watching her from a distance as he was made him suddenly, painfully aware of his loneliness. It was as if a crater was growing in the pit of his stomach, making him ache for her—for this woman he didn’t know. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he thought himself foolish for assuming that she would fulfill him in some way that he had never experienced. He pictured her sitting next to him, resting her lovely head on his shoulder. He could sense how she would feel in his arms. This woman, he decided, was what God intended when he created the feminine form. She embodied beauty, softness, grace, and sensuality. In her wake she left a trail of men yearning for her but baffled as to how to capture her attention. He would have to be different, he thought, as he moved toward her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’d like two of whatever the lady is drinking,” he said to the bartender as he took his place beside her. She looked up at the stranger who had been so bold. She studied him for a minute, and he held her gaze as naturally as if he had looked at her a million times. She turned to the bartender and said “Jameson on the rocks.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well done,” he said.

“Let me guess. You expected me to order a glass of wine or something with a cute name?” She didn’t look at him again while she spoke. She kept her eyes on the bartender, purposefully discounting him as just another drone who would buy her a drink with false hope of some appreciation from her.

“No,” he said. “I just like your choice in whiskey. Irish blends happen to be my favorite.”

“Mine too,” she said. “If I’m going to drink, I like to know that I’m drinking. I like the harshness. And it was my grandfather’s favorite, so my preference is a little sentimental.”

“No complaints here,” he said. He put money for the drinks on the bar and picked up his glass of whiskey. He raised the whiskey to toast her. She brought her glass up to meet his, and he said “To Irish whiskey and chance encounters.” She clinked his glass, and politely made eye contact while they both took a drink. Then he turned to leave. This was the last thing she expected, and the surprise showed on her face as she watched him moving away.

“Wait a minute!” she called after him. “Aren’t you even going to ask my name?”

“No,” he said as he smiled. “Have a pleasant evening.” And he turned again to leave, this time walking away and out of sight. She cocked her head in disbelief, feeling robbed of her opportunity to dismiss him like all the others. As he disappeared into the crowd, he could feel her eyes on him and sense her intrigue. He would see her again, he thought, if fate would be so kind. And she would remember him.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Samuel
    Jul 03, 2011 @ 23:11:34

    this was quite, quite good. Thoroughly enjoyed.

    reminds me of a certain ‘black Irish’ girl…

    Reply

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