Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Fiction: Miscommunication

"Was that a 'Come hither' look?"

The blonde had been sitting at the other end of the bar from us, nursing some fruity drink, while I had my usual three pints.  She had just placed a twenty on the bar and turned to leave.  But she gave me a glance and a smile before heading out the door, causing my pulse to race.

"Wot the hell is a "come hither" look?" My best friend George was never much for the social niceties.  Besides, he was about to fall asleep, the ale and his divorce sapping his interest in much of anything these days.    We'd been drinking a bit, our usual Saturday afternoon fun. 

"A 'come hither' look is the look a girl gives a man she wants to get to know better," I was impatient. Nobody had given me a 'come hither' look in a long time.  Maybe never.

"But how do you know she was looking at you?" George yawned.  "She could have been 'come hithering" any one of these blokes next to us."

I had to know, one way or the other so I left some money with George and exited the bar.  I spotted  the statuesque blonde halfway down the block, slowly strolling.   My way was illuminated by streetlights, the full moon already rising above the tops of the buildings.  It was a quiet evening, and the sound of my shoes on the pavement were loud in the twilight compared to her dainty heels.

When she started to hurry, I matched her pace.  She began to move even faster; I started to run when she disappeared around the corner, thinking she was being coy. 

"Why are you following me?"  Blondie stood in the alley, eyes wide with fear, ready to hurl her purse at me. 

"You gave me a 'come hither' look, lady! " I replied, confused at her tone and her fear.  I raised my hands in what I hoped was a calming fashion. 

"No, I didn't!"  She shook her head. "I don't DO 'come hither'!"

"Yes, you did!" I was indignant. "Every woman does 'come hither'.  George and I both saw you.  You were walking out the door, and you turned your head and motioned with your shoulder for me to follow you."

"Who the hell is George?!!" Now she clutched her purse to her chest.  "Is he going to stalk me too?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"  I was annoyed with her fear. "He's not stalking you.  I'M not stalking you.  You gave me a 'come hither' look, lady, and I thought you wanted to get friendly, that's all. No need to be huffy about it. I'll just be on my way, then."

The blonde rolled her eyes as she finally understood.  She laughed shortly.

"You idiot!" She dropped her purse to the ground, started to remove her jacket.  " Didn't you notice the moon rising?" 

I stared at her, aghast, suddenly terrified.  I knew what a full moon meant.

"That wasn't a 'come hither' look," Blondie growled, her voice changing, her skin moving underneath her clothing.  "That was an "I'd better get to the woods before the sun goes down" look."

I turned and ran.  

***Pain meds and hallucinations were involved in the creation of this fictional piece. I wrote it down exactly as I dreamed it.   

No comments:

Post a Comment

I welcome comments, but reserve the right to correct your spelling because I am OCD about it!