Happy Hour

I later found out her name was Barbara LeFang. I met her last week in, well you know, once of those bars. Business had been great and I wanted to celebrate. Honest, I had only a couple drinks when she walked by my table. Little did I know she had been watching me from the far side of the room. You'd think, as a private eye, I'd have some sort of acute awareness that sends an alert when someone is spying on me. Not so; but luckily this time, the prowler in the shadows was a tall blonde with painted on jeans and a hypnotic smile. She walked to the bar, and winked at me. Gary saw her too. "Look at that!" He said. I nodded. "Look at HER, Gary, not THAT – remember?" I said. Gary is the CPA in the next office over from mine. He's 55, single, good with numbers but lousy with the ladies. Last year he saved me over five grand on my taxes, but only had one date – my sister. He's asked me to help him understand women better, learn how to talk to girls. One of our first lessons involved learning to respect women, and treating them as people, not objects. "Now pull your hand away from the side of your mouth, pick up your drink and stop staring at her rear end." I said. "Right, sorry, but she winked at you!" Gary said, swiveling his chair back toward me. I, of course, as the teacher, was required to further study the object – err, the delicate beauty for which Gary was so obviously taken.

A dozen years as a P.I. had afforded me keen observational tactics which provided an advantage when approaching people, especially the ladies. But this one was special – no run-of-the-mill barfly here, that's for sure. Pure and simple, I was mesmerized. Gary pulled the red straws out of his drink and flicked them at my face. "Hey – how come you get to look at her?!?" A few drops of his Cuba Libre hit my cheek and eye brow, but I didn't even blink. It was right about then that she pivoted toward me. Her sinuous contours moved in silent symphony, and when she looked at me, she didn't look, she dove.

Aided by some cosmic anomaly that, at least temporarily, replaced both gravity and reason, I stood, then felt the distance between us disappear. It was as if I was standing still and gliding toward her as the universe folded upon itself to ensure our destiny. Only a breath away from her, she smiled again, and pointed at her name tag which came into focus: "Bacardi – Party All Night!" then in smaller letters beneath – "Barbara." The universe snapped back into shape with a resounding clap. I was going to say something, although I don't know what, when the bartender called from behind her, "LeFang – order up!" Startled, she turned toward him. I used the decoy to my advantage, and with great stealth, moved back into the shadows.