Beyond the Frame

Note: Credit for title goes to SNam.

Sitting at my usual booth in the bar earlier tonight, watching, waiting for someone worth my attention to come in, I saw her.

She was perched on a bar stool, so tall that her toes just skimmed the floor. Her black dress stopped at her knees, giving me a glorious view of a pair of perfectly arched legs, ending with the trademark red soles of her black Louboutin stilettos. Her hair was piled up in a messy chignon, and above the collar of her coat, I could see the beginnings of a tattoo on the nape of her neck.

Indeed, this woman was intriguing. So intriguing, in fact, that I lacked the courage to go over and talk to her, at least immediately. I nursed my drink and watched her.

The bartender smiled at her and put a mug of beer in front of her. I saw her reflection in the bar mirror smile back at him before taking a long sip of her drink. You don’t see too many women who like beer…this one was definitely my type, and as the minutes ticked by, I stared, fascinated. She put the mug down, leaving a perfect scarlet lip-print on the rim. That would have made such a wonderful photograph…that beer mug, with froth spilling down the side of the glass, and that immaculate lip-print. A visual treat, hinting at something beyond the frame of the picture.

That’s it. In five minutes, I thought, I was going to go up to her and say…what? I didn’t know. Something smooth and charming and witty. I’d make it up on the spot.

As I gathered the remaining shreds of courage, watching her, a man walked up to her. I was transfixed, I couldn’t go there till she had finished with him and (I hoped) turned him away, could I? I sat in my chair, melting in a puddle of my own cowardice. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

She turned to him, and said something, so soft I just barely caught the words….

“You’ll have to pay me in advance”

He slipped her a hundred dollar bill, which she hastily stashed in her coat pocket. Then she gulped down the remains of her drink and eased herself off the stool, taking his hand.

As they walked out the door, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

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I haven't written fiction in a while, so my apologies if this is a bit...shaky. It comes from me trying to do justice with words to an image in my head.