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Last updated: 2/8/2002 |
Posted: 4/28/00 I watch him tip the beer back enthusiastically, laughing around the bottle. It clinks into his teeth and he jumps, clapping a hand to his mouth. She smiles quietly, enjoying the joke, and sips from hers as well. They've been doing this for a couple of hours now, and they're getting pretty drunk. "When did you start getting into Finance?" he asks, puffing on a cigarette. I rub my nose, irritated. "A few years ago," she answers. "It's not the sort of thing you plan on, but I saw the opportunity and I took it. I've never looked back. I started out in Records, but eventually worked into a management position." He nods and they both drink again. There is so much going on here; more than they let on. He wants her, that much is obvious. He fixes his eyes on her and they rarely wander. He takes every opportunity for a casual touch, to her arm or shoulder. I know him well, he's lived with me for a few years. She's a little more confusing. I don't know her. He just started bringing her around; and only formally introduced us tonight. She wears a very mild perfume - but it's provocative. Confident and bold, she's a good conversationalist; but, she rarely looks at him. Shy? She doesn't seem to mind his forward hands. He smokes incessantly; he's nervous. I sneeze explosively. "What's the matter, buddy?" he asks, slapping me on the shoulder gently. I just glare at him. "Whoa! Check out that look!" he laughs. "Hey, I live here too, man." He pokes me in the arm. I shrug him off and look away, wiping my nose. He knows I hate the smoke. "Well, anyway, I was never much for office work, it just seems so soulless." He is leaning over the table, intent on her. She lounges, turned sideways in the chair, legs crossed. Her body faces away, but her head is aimed at him - an ambivalent pose. I think she's bluffing. "It can be that way, if you let it. It's not the most... soul-cultivating place in the world. But, they're just people, after all. If the office happens to be filled with boring, soulless people, it can really suck. Mine's different, the people are really nice - and interesting. I think the fact they work in Finance sort of forces them to do something more... poetic in their spare time. He nods, "I suppose that's a good way of looking at it. I think I'd still prefer working outside - doing something with my hands." "Ah, but that doesn't pay like Finance." He shrugs, "No probably not." "But," she emphasizes with a flat, downward palm, "you should never let that stop you - jobs pay, but there's more to making a living than money." I scoff softly; what a bromide. One of the anchors on the evening news said that last week. She probably doesn't even realize she lifted it from him. As usual, they ignore me. The conversation continues, banal and boring. I close my eyes and stretch. Just start humping, you two, this courtship is becoming tedious. "So, are you seeing anyone right now?" She asks. Ooh, juicy bits. I lean in to listen, trying to look casual. "Yeah, well, I date a little." I cover my mouth and smile. She has no idea. He's been boffing college girls like nobody's business. Don't get me wrong, he's not a bad guy, he just has... difficulty controlling his libido. He seems to do it without making too many enemies, anyway. "Ah," she smiles and nods. "Yeah, me too." That's a lie; maybe. It's hard to tell. This one is interesting. I can tell he senses it too. Maybe she's playing him. "Nothing too serious," he's saying. "But, I guess there have been a lot of them lately. I have a hard time controlling myself at parties." He grins broadly. That's one thing I like about him: When he's not being a complete dork, he's pretty forthright and honest. I suppose it's part of what attracts people to him. She smiles slyly and nods in a slow, understanding way - a fellow conspirator. "Really? Have you been misbehaving?" Now I know she's bluffing. Alarm comes off of her in nearly palpable waves. His admission shocks her. I look at him, surprised he doesn't pick up on it. He's never been as good a judge of people as me. He's actually a little more relaxed, reassured by her understanding. She's still outwardly cool. "Well, maybe a little. I've sort of had a colorful sexual history." More waves of alarm vibrate out of her like sonar. Shut up, bonehead, you're going to screw this up. He takes a giant swig of beer, finishing the bottle. "Can I get you another one?" "Sure," she sips demurely at a half-finished micro brew. He walks to the 'fridge to get the beers, turning his back. I glance at her sideways; abruptly, she breaks character. Her calm demeanor gives way to a look of soft alarm, and desperate shyness. She rubs her forehead, closes her eyes. When he turns around, she turns the gesture into a casual brush of her hair, and the calm mask falls like a vaudeville curtain. Wow, she's good. He returns to the kitchen table, a slight bobble in his step. He's a pretty skilled drunk. If there are outward signs of intoxication it means he's wasted. Meanwhile, I think I've figured out her game. She's terrified, and has no idea what she's doing. The poor thing; she's smart, but he's a pro. She's out of her league. Abruptly, he reaches over and rubs my head like a tennis ball. "Wassaaap, buddy!?" It's a gesture that would get anyone else severely mauled, but he and I are old friends; we have an understanding. I act irritated, but I secretly like it. As usual, I say nothing. "He's really quiet," she reaches over toward me. "I wouldn't do that," he cuts in, grabbing her hand. "We've known each other a while, and I'm surprised he even lets me touch him." "Ah..." she nods sagely again. He's right, don't even think about it, sister. Hold on, this is interesting. He's still holding her hand, leaning toward her. In her appalling attempt to touch me, she's leaned over the table, nearer to him. They're both nervous now, but my boy is a little cooler than she. "Listen, I don't want to scare you off." He covers her hand with his other and looks at her intently. To my surprise, she returns his gaze levelly. Maybe she's not such a pushover; the gal definitely has an edge. I can smell her confidence now, maybe that wasn't perfume. "You're not scaring me off," she grins sweetly. "This is something I need." No bluff there. They kiss - right in front of me; imagine the gall! I make an irritated sound and stand up. She laughs, "I think we're bothering your cat." "Oh, he'll be fine. He's just an old grouch." True enough. Before I can dodge, he pushes me unceremoniously off the table. I, of course, land flawlessly - and notice something on my paw - better clean that off. The next 20 minutes are impressive. They roll around on the kitchen floor, stuck to each other like a pair of land squids. Finally, they maneuver into the bedroom. I spend a few minutes chewing on a plant. After the sounds of frenzied stripping fade, I slip into the bedroom and curl up on the window sill. What? Yah, I'm a voyeur; so neuter me. It goes with the territory. This is my house after all.
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