It's late and I sit in the corner of the hotel bar in a pool of light from a hanging lamp listening to my ice cubes rattle. Inhale and exhale. Thank god for Indian reservations and their disregard for public health and safety laws; it's nice to have a place to smoke indoors. For all my thoughts of freedom I stub the thing out quickly when the door opens and try to look nonchalant. It's not guilt, I just believe smoking is a private affair and I'm no longer alone. I feel like a fraud, but no more than usual.
Nice suit. I observe them quietly as they walk through the door - from the hotel side, not the outside and yes, it makes a difference. The one in the middle makes hushing gestures at the others and they all look at me. I try to look bored but my hands shake and I stare longingly at the cigarette broken in the ashtray. A long sip. A deep breath.
I miss a step and the one in the middle is alone now, taller than I thought. He approaches me while trying to look like he isn't. He feels like a fraud, too; I can tell by the way he holds his drink. Something in his face makes me feel bold and I straighten my spine, taking out another cigarette. Privacy be damned, I need something to do with my hands.
The way I cast around for a light is an invitation and he takes it almost smoothly. Up close his face is open like a child's and his eyes smile; I feel lined and tired but I try to sparkle at him. Half smile. Turn of the head exposes the lines of the neck. The suit is expensive, tailored, he looks like he's used to it. Jesus, he's tall, well above 6 feet. He towers over me. I shiver.
His shoulders are broad, powerful, his hands are large and when he leans over with the match I stare for a moment too long at the half-moons of his fingernails pale as bone against his dark skin. The smile is a boy's smile, frank and sincere in its admiration, I execute the well practiced nod that invites him to sit without seeming to care if he accepts. He does.He opens his mouth and I prepare to be bored but one of his teeth is slightly crooked and it immediately endears me to him. I feel the red splotches rise in my cheeks like a sudden fever and am aware of how it looks. He's talking but the words mean nothing because I'm drowning in those pale half moons and the movement of his lips and that one crooked tooth.
Nice suit. I observe them quietly as they walk through the door - from the hotel side, not the outside and yes, it makes a difference. The one in the middle makes hushing gestures at the others and they all look at me. I try to look bored but my hands shake and I stare longingly at the cigarette broken in the ashtray. A long sip. A deep breath.
I miss a step and the one in the middle is alone now, taller than I thought. He approaches me while trying to look like he isn't. He feels like a fraud, too; I can tell by the way he holds his drink. Something in his face makes me feel bold and I straighten my spine, taking out another cigarette. Privacy be damned, I need something to do with my hands.
The way I cast around for a light is an invitation and he takes it almost smoothly. Up close his face is open like a child's and his eyes smile; I feel lined and tired but I try to sparkle at him. Half smile. Turn of the head exposes the lines of the neck. The suit is expensive, tailored, he looks like he's used to it. Jesus, he's tall, well above 6 feet. He towers over me. I shiver.
His shoulders are broad, powerful, his hands are large and when he leans over with the match I stare for a moment too long at the half-moons of his fingernails pale as bone against his dark skin. The smile is a boy's smile, frank and sincere in its admiration, I execute the well practiced nod that invites him to sit without seeming to care if he accepts. He does.He opens his mouth and I prepare to be bored but one of his teeth is slightly crooked and it immediately endears me to him. I feel the red splotches rise in my cheeks like a sudden fever and am aware of how it looks. He's talking but the words mean nothing because I'm drowning in those pale half moons and the movement of his lips and that one crooked tooth.
