the huntress diana

When he turns on that sunbeam smile, toothsome, dazzling white, we both sigh just a little as we settle into our corner of the bar.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“Something cool and yummy,” she says, “something delicious.”

“We’ve got that.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Something potent,” she says, “but subtle enough that it won’t clash with the buzz we already have.”

He smiles.

“Can you suggest something special?” she asks. “We’re celebrating.”

“what’s the occasion?”

“It’s Wednesday” I say.

“So it is,” he says, seeming to notice me for the first time.

She says, musing, “I’m thinking something in the vodka spectrum.”

“Martini?”

She wrinkles her nose.

“I make them super dirty,” he says.

“I have no doubt,” she says, “but not tonight.”

“Cosmo?”

“I hardly think so.”

“Cape codder? Madras?”

“Mmm”

“How about a Stinger?”

“Oooh, I do like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might.”

“Sounds kind of dangerous.”

“if done correctly,” he says.

“Are they good?”

“Oh yea”

“Are they strong?”

“Trust me,” he says.

“I think I just might, handsome. Let’s see how you do.”

He laughs, it’s like the sound of a fortuitous comet blazing across the sky. 

When he goes, she turns to me.

“Isn’t he like a perfect apple?”

“Mmm” I agree. He is something to see.

“A ripe, firm, delicious, golden apple,” she looks over at him as he shakes up our cocktails. “Look at those forearms,” she sighs. With her eyes closed she listens to the rhythmic lull of the tumbler, “That’s the most beautiful sound in the world.” She is giddy, she is luminous tonight, moonlit and white, aroused by the whisper of booze that shimmers silver in the air when he pours it into our trembling glasses. With that first tentative sip, the drinks chill and burn our eager lips.

“How are they?” he asks.

“Nectar,” she says, “ambrosia. The drink of he gods. Simply delicious.”

“I’m glad I measured up.”

“Indeed,” she smiles.

“Will you two have anything to eat?”

“Do you have anything to nibble on?” she asks.

His doe brown eyes glance briefly at her magnificent cleavage, which seems to wink back at him, encouraging him. “Definitely,” he says.

We pretend to read the menu. The game is on.

“He needs a shave,” I say.

“I like them swarthy,” she asserts.

“He is good looking,” I acknowledge.

“Do you think I should flirt with him?”

“You’re off to a good start.”

“Let’s hope so.” She says.

“What happened to you and the guy?"

“Doug the Dick?” she laughs, “I gave that chump the heave ho.”

She gives all her men nicknames: Baby Face, King Dong, The Tickler, Minute Rice, Pee Wee, Guido No Thumbs, Mister Clean, to name a few from the more recent past.

“Can I get you another round?” The barteneder, attentive and quick, is before us again like a vision.

“Absolutely” she says. “Those were perfection.” She does that old trick with her hair so that it just grazes her naked shoulder. A whiff of pricey perfume riffs the air.

Again the musical cocktail shaker plays a rhapsody. We sway on our barstools just a bit to its siren song. With precision he pours out two more before us.

“You didn’t spill a drop,” she says.

“I never do,” he says.

“Quite a skill,” she says.

“Comes with lots of practice.”

“It takes a certain amount of dexterity and poise, I should think,” she says.

“I try my best,” he says.

To this she just shrugs, and takes a lingering sip of her drink.

He goes to take care of a group of khaki clad office drones at the other end of the bar, her eyes never leave his enticing backside. 

“He has a lot of potential,” I say.

“Oh doesn’t he though?”

“What do you think?”

“I need a new man, “ she says, “and no doubt he is a fine specimen."

“Beautiful.”

“Gorgeous.” She concurs, placing her glass squarely on its pink napkin for emphasis.

“So what’ll you call him?”

“I have no idea, he is strong, and slick, he makes me a little woozy just looking at him.”

I sip my cocktail. “How about we call him Stinger?” I suggest.

“I like that, that has promise," she says,  "hopefully he lives up to it,” she says.

“Here’s hoping”

We clink glasses.

She laughs, and waves him over for the kill.