Upstairs

Darrel left the toilet without fixing his hair or tucking the back of his shirt in. He left with his hand still on the zipper not even looking in the mirror. First thing he did look for, he found. The girl in the little polka dot dress still passed out on the leather couch. She had moved a tad, had rolled her head to one side so that her pony tail fell down over her right shoulder now. Long brownish red hair, brushed stick strait. He walked over.

“Hey.” he said, cupping her left shoulder in his hand. “You okay sweetie?”
“Mark?” she said with a sigh, then something in mumbles and burps.
“Think you had a drop too much to drink,” he said.

The girl started to slide down on the cushion. He leaned over to put his other hand on her right shoulder and lift her up again. She had a smell of vodka and something sweet. He guessed she couldn’t be much over eighteen. He propped her up on the couch, keeping his hands on her shoulders. Jim and Sue-Anne and Kimberly were sitting at their regular table half under the stairs just below him. Probably wondering what took him so long in the toilet. Nobody else was upstairs tonight. He looked at the girl. Up close he could see she wasn’t that pretty, but her mouth was big and full. She had cherry pink lipstick on, kind of thick and waxy. Not the expensive brands Sue-Anne bought, more like the dollar bins at the checkout counter. Was something sexy in her smeared makeup, in the way she lay like a sleeping baby.

“You gotta name, honey?” he asked. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Then she opened her eyes, big and speckled brown.

“That you, Mark” she said again, “Come ‘ere.” She rolled her head towards his right hand, half licking half kissing his fingers. Darrel’s hands flew back to his denim, but his body didn’t move. The girl slumped over, closing her eyes.

“Well your gettin’ a bit feisty” he said. “I was just tryin to give you a helpin’ hand.”

No response, only faint breathing. Darrel stood there. He could hear the singer start strumming one of his favorite songs. Could hear Sue-Anne in her brawny voice talking about the new puppy they just bought. A black lab that followed him around the house. They had tried to have a baby for over a year now, ended with a bastard pup that peed in the middle of the bedroom in the middle of the night. Darrel stuck his thumbs in the front of his jeans and straightened his back. The girl twisted around so that she was curled in a half fetal position, her cheek pressed against the leather seat. If the barman saw her sleeping he would kick her out in two minutes flat.

“Sit up, now, hon. Larry don’t take to sleepers.” He said.

He reached down to lift her shoulders up. She was what you might call chubby, but just barely. It was cute fat, baby fat. He reached under her body to get a good hold. Her arms were curled tight beneath her. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist trying to pry em away from her chest when his hand brushed across her nipples. Darrel stopped. Damn. Girl wasn’t wearing a bra. His heart seemed to hit a little harder in his ears. She didn’t move.

“Gonna sit you up straight now, sugar.” He said. But his grip loosened. He let go. Let go of her wrist and moved his hand slowly till the nipple was between his fingers. He squeezed just a little at first, through the thin fabric. The girl moaned, raising her head up off the couch for a second before dropping it down again. The leather crinkled like plastic sheets.

“Your a sweet little thing.” he said to her quietly, calmly.

Said it like nothin’ was out of the ordinary, but his cheeks had a burning feeling. Her nipple felt like a little piece of hard candy. Started to make him hard thinking about how it just might taste the same. He slipped his hand under the low collar of her dress till the flesh pressed against his rough skin. Didn’t remember a girl could be so soft, was a long time since he’d touched skin that soft. He cupped his hand under her small breast. Smothered it with his leathery fingers. His hand was big. Holding it flat, he could feel both nipples at once. He leaned into her then, down that polka dot trail, over the curve of her belly, reaching two fingers under the elastic of her underwear. His breath pulled in sharp when he felt the cottony damp. Pulled in strong and deep. His fingers found a sweet sticky warmth, edged in between such sweet thighs. The guitar whined to a stop somewhere below him. Hollering and clapping wafted up the stairs. Sue and Kimberly started to whistle. John pulled his hand out from the dress and straightened up. He moved his fingers to his face wiping them slowly across his cheek. Darrel looked at the girl. He took a step back before turning around and walking down the stairs.

UPSTAIRS | 2008 | writings