Anonymous Shimmer
She looks good in bar light. The neon tosses shimmers into dark hair, the robust volume sending urges to male fingers to test for texture. Above her stool an overhead lamp sets a glow upon sharp, exotic cheekbones and as if his contemplation stirs the skin, her hand brushes across one. He notices every breath and she is no longer unaware. And not unwilling; so says the shift in her gaze to him between every sentence she bestows on her eager date. Desperation for a numbing distraction colors the beer's flavor and he wonders if sufficient alcohol can deliver him into a moment his chivalry would normally disallow.
A quarrel is birthed in whispers and gains rapid momentum. The pub's population watches a too-young man storm away from the Latin beauty. But the quickly averted glances miss the pleased expression of a triumphant woman. Except him. The scheme had been fairly obvious and the result is a mile's worth of legs strutting to his end of the counter. A wink from velvet brown eyes has a pair of baby blues trailing her sway to the door. The bill is overpaid as he rushes out of the bar, finding the temptress waiting at the curb. The lift he offers is accepted with a slow, knowing smile. The plan is simple; take her home by way of his bed.
She looks divine on his sheets. And it feels like every fantasy-body-without-a-face known to man. There is no guilt when he buries himself too roughly into her namelessness. The varied inflections of her screams, oddly in tune, include no painful notes. A few long fingernails are split upon the flesh of his back but the drawing of blood cannot slow him. Intensity grows as stars flee the sky to sink into his vision. Convulsions afflict them simultaneously and he almost wants to know her name. While she calls out to God, his completion arrives with a curse.
Typically, when the weakness of flesh brings him to this moment, he cannot bear to see the face. All too often, there is none at all. Whatever features the stranger possesses are swallowed by those that his imagination prefers. Perhaps it can be attributed to the miracle of this woman's physical perfection, but for once his mutinous brain does not substitute exes or coworkers.
He sees only her. And he is intrigued.
She looks good in bar light. It is common for the available to take a position on stools at the counter. Couples tend to claim the tables, a combination of status proclamation and bragging rights. Their table announces their exclusivity, at least for one more evening. One night ago he spent great energy in exploring her insides. Equal exertion is being deployed to learning the outside, starting with her name. Lily and her robust hair and broken nails are a package from which he struggles to walk away. And he thinks that should mean something, even as he prays it won't.
This morning he woke to ten digits scrawled in thick red on the pillowcase. And a lipstick kiss-print that, for all the absurdness, made him want to hear the voice that accompanies those lips. Twenty-two hours after bone-jarring anonymous sex, the doctor and the designer introduce themselves. Little personal knowledge is traded but her hand on his thigh tells him plenty will be exchanged later. They favor the bar with their company for barely thirty minutes before she's pulling him back into the night.
She looks divine on her sheets. Sleeping on her side, her arms drapes across his stomach just enough to make her presence known while not requiring him to stay. It is freedom, this ability to have her without the bindings of law or emotions. But he knows the latter is becoming a lie. Still, they are using each other for appetites the lonely best understand and the thought compels him to study her face. Granting her remembrance provides him a measure of absolution and the more he sees, the more he wants.
And the more he wants, the harder he takes. That she doesn't mind his forcefulness strikes him as a plus on a mental list he's trying not to keep. The morning brings a new case and the prospect of death is softened by the cradle of her welcoming body. And he feels strangely refreshed when the second call shrills with the arrival of four am.
She kisses him goodbye. And he is entranced.