The Business Card

Our paths crossed in 1985 in a room mushroomed with beautiful people with music blaring and neon lights flashing. I strolled over by the pool table that was positioned near a stretch of French doors overlooking the main black and white checkered dance floor where the inhabitants of that square footage seemed crazed like animals in a zoo. He was leaning over about to connect with the white ball and then suddenly he stood up without shooting, lifted his high ball tumbler, took a swig of his drink then wet his full lips with his tongue as if savoring the contents. That movement, his movements was just so damn sexy. Simultaneously, at that same time our eyes connected for a second as the other second was dedicated to the gold band on his finger. He sank the eighth ball and won the game.

I watched him, eavesdropping even. He was married, happily it seemed and very smooth with his game. His words were like sugar, sweet on the palette dripping with all the right come-on lines. I kept telling myself he was married but the stature of this man was everything manly the mind could conceive after having four libations of house wine. My senses were alert my body aching. In a matter of minutes this beautiful sister with a body that Coco-Cola fashioned its bottled after was putty in his aura but his eyes was like a cheetah canvassing yet still. I sense a longing for something extra other than his now conquest.

I placed a quarter on the wood paneling of the pool table and stood off in the direction of the yellow beam of light that encompassed the hallway and waited my turn. It would be a long time for my turn but at least I gave myself a reason to hang around to observed this appetizing vision and conjure up illicit images of romping in my mind. He was quite skillful with a pool stick and the force of his thrust on the white ball drilled the playing balls with precision. She sat in a high chair and just watched, sometimes lightly touching him as if to congratulate him. I’ll bet she was having the same thoughts I was and by the way her legs were crossed she had the same moistness I was experiencing.

He passed me in the hallway on his way to the restroom and once again our eyes connected but this time he stopped, said hello and introduced himself. His hand shake was firm and long...way too long for just meeting someone. We exchanged business cards and he dismissed himself to find relief from all the drinks. On his return he passed me without giving me a glance and return to his conquest. I left the disco, defeated, moist and buzzed.

Fifteen years later we meet again at a dinner party but this time there was no ring. He still looked fine with age, distinguished even. At the end of the dinner party .... we left together....for an after dinner drink. Funny thing though, I still had his business card.