Friday, November 20, 2009

Panama

It was a woman this time, not a girl, making eyes across the room. They were enormous and brown and easy to spot. She had amazing posture, gliding from the counter to her seat like a salsa dancer, hips caroming from side to side.

Because Van Halen concerts are few and far between these days, coffee shops are the next best place for me to meet interesting girls. This time I was there with my friend playing chess, a sure way to turn off any sexy lady. Well, except for this one.

I had a little extra dough on hand from the bonus essay I edited last weekend and tried to psych out my chess partner with a little uncommon generosity. I went up to buy him another cup of tea and checked to see if the woman noticed my cash tip.

Now, before it seems like this happens all the time, I must qualify: while I do occasionally find a teenage girl ogling me because I have certain qualities that her hairless boyfriend lacks, sustaining eye contact with a full grown woman for longer than a full second is rare.

However, this benevolent creature, this Latina beauty, was giving me a down and dirty, unquestionable eye fuck.

My chess partner was getting annoyed. I was taking forever with my move and wouldn't let him turn around to check her out.

Then, her friend got up to leave. I panicked. Would I have to chase after her? But my salsa queen didn't follow. She hugged her friend from a sitting position and pulled out a book. She glanced at me again before opening it and then settled into her pillow chair. If ever there were an opportunity, this was it. I had always fantasized about how a coffee shop pick up might go down, and I was about to enact the classic "What are you reading?" scenario.

Yet, I froze. I couldn't concentrate on two chess games at once. I was actually winning the one I was already playing, and if I tried for the girl, my friend would beat me for the eleventh time in a row.

Priorities.

But as the moments passed, her posture changed. She seemed agitated. She couldn't have read more than three pages when she tossed the book back into her purse and got up to leave.

Just as my friend grumbled "check mate" I knocked my king over and ran after her.

She was already outside and down the block a ways when I stopped her.

"Sorry to chase after you like this, but I noticed you, um...looking at me, and...well, I couldn't let you go without finding out your name..."

She gave me her number in what I found out later was a Panamanian accent. I played a nerdy trick where I didn't write it down, adding a touch of suspense and earning a questioning smile.

As she turned the corner in her car, I grabbed my pen out of my pocket and scribbled the ten digits on my hand before my brain betrayed my penis yet again. Sofia's the oldest woman I've ever wooed. If that whole sexual prime thing is really true, I may be in for a schoolin'.

7 comments:

Daffy said...

Yes, those of us in our prime are a force to be reckoned with. I very much look forward to an update! Get plenty of sleep ahead of time :O)

Gorilla Bananas said...

Perhaps you should have asked her if she played chess, called her over and let her touch your pieces. I bet she would have said "I like the horse". Good luck with her, anyway.

The Crazy Baby Mama said...

i think this may be your most technically well-written piece yet. your words had a rhythm all their own, and i enjoyed reading this post.

Secretia said...

Get yourself ready for some football.

Nishant said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Eva Huntress said...

Coffee house and chess, that is an irresistible combination for women in our primes... I'm dying to know what happens next.

Surge said...

I love love love this situation. Thanks for sharing