Agree to Disagree

Title: Agree To Disagree

Word count: 987

Author: Tim Wilkinson

 

Agree to Disagree

 

 

“You look like I need a drink,” Wayne said to the slim, dark haired stranger at the bar, exercising his usual, innate ability to alienate all who dared to cross his path.

“You sure do! Make it a double,” the woman answered without looking up. “Neat, no ice.”

“Coming up,” he replied, calling to out to the tattoo tainted bimbo behind the bar. “Two double whiskies, neat, no ice. And make it top shelf, will ya?”

“Sure thing Hon,” the pencil thin bartender replied, suspiciously eyeing the woman seated next to him with a look that spoke either of lustful jealousy or shameless desire.

“Seems you have an ardent admirer---or a determined foe,” Wayne added as the barmaid delivered the drinks, her sullen, red rimmed eyes fixed upon the down-turned face of Wayne's new acquaintance.

Taking his drink in hand, Wayne slid the other to his left, then paused as he took a healthy sip.

“Glad you’re so interested in the hired help,” the woman replied. “Cause I sure don’t give a f**k what the slit licking c**t wants. I’ve eaten better than that from my dogs bowl.”

Lifting her head, the woman took the glass, downing all two fingers in a single, swift gulp before turning her face to Wayne's. And with a smile, wide and seemingly genuine, she looked him over, then continued. “Thanks, I needed that," sitting up and straightening the slight arch in her back and shoulders as she swiveled her stool his way and extended her right hand, “Sable, Sable Vincent. Nice to meet you.”

Wayne said nothing for a few, extended seconds, a bit shocked and obviously surprised by what he saw. She was beautiful, stunning beyond measure, her skin a creamy, pale white, with vibrant, bright gray eyes, wolf eyes, and a set of perfectly formed, crimson toned lips peaked at the top that seemed to glitter in the dim, flashing neon of the bar. She was tall, he could see that much, but not overly so. Dressed in an ankle length skirt of coal black silk, perfectly matched to the shimmering tone of her short cropped hair, she stood out boldly against the backdrop of the shabby, piss scented bar.

A moment passed, then two, as Wayne sat silent, mesmerized by her charm and the flashing, crystalline quality of her vibrantly colored eyes.

“Uhum,” she muttered, with a flash of pink rising in her cheeks as she blushed, or grew angry, Wayne couldn’t tell which and wasn’t sure that he cared. "I think here is where you’re supposed to say something, like---oh I don’t know, hello Sable. Nice to meet you too. My name is…”

Receiving no response but Wayne’s slack jawed countenance and his continued stare, his eyes glazed and empty of emotion, she looked away, but not before suggesting, "If not, you might at least be good enough to fill in the blank."

The instant she broke eye contact, Wayne recovered, his momentary lapse of control forgotten or at least partially so as he struggled to regain his composure. Still a bit unbalanced, his words stumbling across his tongue as he began, he made every effort to proceed. “Um, yes, of course. Forgive me. I can assure you the pleasure is all mine. It’s Wayne, by the way, Wayne Wilkes," he said, taking her offered hand in his and squeezing lightly. “Sorry, for a second there I was---well, I guess you saw, didn't you.”

“Spellbound, discombobulated, muddled?”

“Yes, that about sums it up. And to keep in step should I now ask you…”

“What a girl like me is doing in a place like this?”

“Yes, or words to that effect.”

“No need, now that I’ve said it for you.”

“And once again, yes. Sable, you say. Lovely name, and so, so…”

“Unusual?”

“Yes, though I think I’d have chosen the word, colorful. And---do you always finish the sentences of those you talk with?”

“Do you always require that one does?”

“No, not usually but… ”

“Before you ask, no. I’m not a dancer, a stripper, or a porn star. In fact, I’ve never done any of those things---for money that is. My father just liked the name; something he brought back from the war, for reasons that aren’t important.”

“Really? And what war was that?”

“Does it matter, aren’t all wars very much the same?”

“The results, yes, the reasons---well not so much.”

“I see. It’s good to know that we disagree on at least one thing.”

Laughing softly, he took a sip of his drink, then replied. “Yes, yes it is. And I do hope we can manage to disagree on many more.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that we will.”

“Slit licking c**t? Quite descriptive, and expressive. Are you always so---harsh?”

“Yes, though I think I’d have chosen the word direct. And why not? After all, life is so short. Why waste time with trivial platitudes, when the cold---hard truth will suffice. Do you disagree?”

“Certainly, and strongly so.”

“Very good. I hoped that you would. Now tell me,” she began, her eyes again to his, the playful smile spreading across her lips deepening the already alluring dimples creasing the front of each delicate and polished cheek. “Along the same vein, if I were to say that the best lovemaking was hard, rough, and quick, and done in a public place, like---well like this one, and right now. Would you agree?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Ah, see, I told you we would disagree on many things. Come then, I have a room next door. Care to see what else we can disagree upon?”

“Oh hell no,” he answered, throwing a wrinkled twenty atop the counter before taking her cool, long fingered hand in his and following her out the door.

 

© 2020, Tim Wilkinson