Kiss of Noir

by Clara Nipper

  “Sure.” I flicked my thumbnail across a wooden match head and held it to the fag.

  “You gotta show me how you do all that.” Payne squinted at me through the smoke.

  “All what?” I was beginning to feel very fine.

  “Roll ’em, light ’em, you know.”

  “Sorry, butch trade secret.”

  Payne laughed. She gestured around the bar. “Well, whaddya think?”

  “I have been to a bar before. They’re all the same.” Flashback to a Tulsa Redhead.

  “See anything you like?”

  “Not yet, you?”

  “Sure do. That little filly over there.” Payne pointed to a thin woman with long, dark hair.

  “Mmm,” I grunted. “I guess she’s better than a poke in the eye, but way too skinny.”

  “No, she’s just right. You like the pie wagons, huh?”

  I grinned. “I do hate the sticks. There’s no juice. You eat the meat and leave the bones. The bones are for the vultures. It always strikes me as a bit…necrophiliac to like skinny women. I want a woman that I need a grappling hook to climb. Someone who has the fire to go all night, every night. I love the ample pulchritude that makes a woman a woman.”

  “Uh-huh.” Payne smoked and drank. “I like tits.”

  “You want a skinny woman with tits? You got to be man enough to love the entire package. You got to love the real.”

  “I guess I’m just not man enough, then. I like ’em small and tight and athletic—”

  “With big tits.”

  Payne shrugged. “If they’ve got ’em it’s a plus. But the most important thing is no fats.”

  “You crackers are all mixed up and crazy like that. You’ve got the entire culture FUBAR. And meanwhile, you’re missing the sweetest, wettest, hottest poon this side of heaven.”

  “FUBAR?”

  “Fucked up beyond any recognition.”

  “Oh, ha, ha. Well, forget it. If it is no sex or sex with chubniks, I’ll pass on all of it forever. That shit is nasty. You don’t know which sweaty fold to fuck.”

  “You’ve got more wrong with you than I suspected if you can’t find a hot twat.”

  “I find all I need between the legs of women who are in shape.”

  “Just because a woman has curves doesn’t mean she’s not fit,” I snapped.

  “Listen, I’m not going to argue with you. You like what you like and I like what I like and we won’t change each other. Between us, we can split all the women.”

  “So to speak.”

  Payne laughed. I watched her try to catch the dark-haired woman’s eye. Payne tossed her hair, stared, made a big show of cigarette posturing. Finally the woman looked around, smiled, and looked away.

  “Looks like I’m gonna go dance.”

  “Go jump those bones.” I watched Payne sidle to the woman. She bought her a drink and leaned over her, forcing the woman to look up to see Payne’s face. She moved her slim hips slightly toward the woman and smiled her knockout smile as she spoke to her. The woman nodded and stood up. Payne held her close and swayed, rolling her pelvis gently into the woman. Payne looked over the woman’s shoulder and winked at me, and I held up my glass. When the song was finished, Payne spoke to the woman, who shook her head and walked back to her bar stool. Payne shrugged and returned to the table.

  “She’s very hot. I’ll take that filly home tonight or I’m not Payne Phillips. See a wide load with your name on her yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh,” Payne mocked sympathy, “I guess that means you won’t be scoring tonight. Share how that makes you feel inside.”

  “Bite me, pedophile,” I retorted. I was feeling better and better.

  “What did you call me?”

  I faced her. I could feel how fine I looked. I could discern my bald head gleaming, my face sitting exactly right on my chiseled bones, my T-shirt clinging in all the bulging muscular places, even my beer at the perfect level. And damn, I knew how to hold a cigarette and a woman. I knew it all showed tonight. It had been a long time since I felt all of it together. So I inhaled deeply off the pure tobacco that Cleo had showed me how to roll into an obedient cylinder and repeated, “Pedophile.”

  “What the fuck?” Payne was irritated, but distracted by her beer that she was drinking too fast, her cigarette that she couldn’t keep lit, and the woman who kept staring at us.

  “What else do you call someone who wants their sex to come in a tiny, curveless, weightless, odorless, hairless package? An entire industry of pedophiles.”

  “Oh, that again.” Payne leaned back and sighed, unconcerned with my taunting. “What can I say? I don’t like hair in my food.”

  I sipped my beer. Payne finished hers and refilled both our glasses. She drank half her own right away. “Listen, you think I’m so predictable?” Payne said. “You think I’m nothing but vanilla?” Her eyes sparkled with a secret.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “Sometimes.” Payne looked around the bar then leaned in close. “Sometimes I get all femmed up in drag. You know, makeup, hair, dress, shoes, purse, jewelry, the whole nine, and I go out. I find some really hot butch and I let her take me home. Then, the next night I come out as my regular self, you know, like this and I find that butch and I watch the shock spread all over her face. Then I say to her, ‘yep, last night you fucked a faggot.’” Payne laughed and laughed.

  I swallowed some beer and topped off both glasses. I motioned to the waitress, who nodded. “Looks like your filly is ready for another dry hump,” I said to distract Payne from needing any response from that revelation. Payne dropped her cold cigarette and stood, walking with purpose to the woman.

  They danced and I lost them in the crowd. I watched the people, idly wondering what their stories were. What was each of them on the misery scale? I spotted a sulky blonde at the bar reading a book. Oh, this I had to see. I drained my glass and the dancing crowd parted as I walked.

  I reached the woman. Someone was on the stool next to her so I stared down the offender, jerked my thumb, and said, “Out. Mine.” The offender grabbed her glass and scurried away with a frightened look. I sat on the empty bar stool. “How you doin’?” I asked my prey, tapping a cigarette on the bar.

  The blonde appraised me with a scowl and returned to her book.

  “What are you reading?”

  The blonde sighed and showed the cover, her eyes closed in impatience.

  “Stephen Hawking, are you kidding me?” I snorted.

  “Why?” The blonde was beautiful. Her hair was long and curly, her face was daintily sculpted and her lips were plump, wet, and shiny with potential. She had big brown eyes, her body was nothing but curvy handrails, and all of it was hostile.

  “Well, c’mon, this isn’t a college class, it’s a bar.”

  “I’m well aware of where I am. Anything else?” The blonde’s flawless eyebrows were raised with withering politeness.

  “You want a drink?”

  The blonde’s small hand instantly covered the top of her glass of wine. “No, thank you.”

  “Then how about a dance?”

  “No. But again, thank you.”

  “Aw, come on.” I placed my hand on the blonde’s back where it sizzled. She jerked up straight and stared at me until I removed my hand. I motioned to the bartender. “Tank and tonic.”

  The blonde had resumed reading, her cheeks burning.

  “Isn’t ignoring me a lot of work?” I persisted.

  The blonde rolled her eyes and slammed down her book. But her mouth twitched. “Yes, but it’s worth it.”

  “Why do you come here if you don’t want company?”

  “That’s my business.” Her words were crisp and starchy.

  I decided that my harmless goof approach was working best on this one. It had such honest non-threatening appeal. Then, when the blonde was relaxed, I would come out in force like a striking rattlesnake.

  “You know.” I paid for my drink and motioned
for another glass of wine over her indignant protests. “I read a lot too.”

  “Is that right?” The blonde, full of sarcasm and contempt, held her eyes open only a slit to regard me.

  “Yep, I’ve read all of Stephen King’s books.”

  “Oh, my.” Her eyes opened wide. “We’re just alike!”

  “Let’s see…I also like dining out, sunsets, bubble baths and long walks on the beach.” I surprised myself by laughing at my own joke.

  “Do you also like being rejected?” She smiled for the first time.

  “Love it.”

  “Good, then stay right here.” She finished her drink and sipped from the glass I bought her. I was encouraged. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw Payne staring at me from the dance floor. When our eyes met, Payne turned the filly in a half-circle and buried her face in the woman’s hair. I watched long enough to notice that Payne’s filly was now staring at me. I turned back to the blonde.

  “I’m Nora, what’s your name?”

  “Gwendolyn.”

  “It is not, what is it?”

  “Penelope.”

  “C’mon, just tell me your name, please?”

  The blonde, holding her wineglass to her lips and facing the bar, had a tiny smile on her mouth. “Jill.”

  “All right, forget it. I’ll call you Hellion, how about that?”

  The blonde turned and bored into my eyes. “That will do perfectly.”

  “Feel like a dance yet?”

  “Not at all. Feel like giving up and leaving me alone?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse.” Hellion picked up her book and resumed reading.

  “You know, Hell, no one’s going to break into you like an armed robber. You have to invite us in.”

  “Like a vampire?” Hellion replied, never stopping her reading.

  “Exactly.”

  Payne came over, nodded to me, and hugged Hellion, who was startled into reciprocating, her book crushed between them.

  “Hey! How are you?” Payne grinned.

  “Good. And you?” Hellion had mentally dismissed Payne and was smoothing her book on the bar.

  “Just great. You’re treating my bud here okay, aren’t you?” Payne said.

  Hellion shook her head. “Please.” Her tone was unmistakable. She read again.

  Leading her filly by the hand, Payne walked to my other side and squeezed in between stools to be closer. “How you doing?” she whispered.

  “You know that woman?” I was incredulous.

  Payne puffed with pride. “Of course I do. She comes here some. I’ve known her for a while.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Payne shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “You don’t know!” I laughed and swigged my drink. It felt so good to feel good.

  “She’s never told anybody. No one knows her name,” Payne whispered.

  “Well I do,” I boasted.

  “Yeah, right,” Payne replied. Her filly wedged between them and held out her hand to me. “I’m Carol.”

  I took the hand, grinned at Payne, and kissed it. “So sweet to meet you, Carol.”

  “Thank you. I love your haircut…I mean your head…I mean…”

  I nodded. “I get you. Thanks.”

  “Let’s dance, babe.” Payne dragged Carol away.

  “I hope that didn’t make you jealous,” I said to Hellion, who was immersed in her book. When I got no response, I said, “I say, I hope that didn’t make you jealous. You know you’re the only one for me. It didn’t mean anything. I was thinking of you the whole time. I was drunk. You’ve got to trust me. I’ve got to have some space.”

  After ten beats of silence, Hellion looked up. “What?”

  I held her arm. “C’mon, I’ve got something I want to give you.”

  Hellion pulled away. “I don’t want anything.”

  “You want this, I promise. C’mon outside, let me show you.”

  “Bring it in here.”

  “Will you just relax? It will take two minutes. C’mon, Professor.” I pulled her toward the door. Making a move like that was always risky and when it paid off, it was sweet heaven. The woman, mute, followed me. Payne watched this with disbelief.

  “What is it?” Hellion asked once we were outside in the sultry darkness. The throbbing music we left behind seemed to cause the building to pulse.

  “This,” I growled, pushing Hellion against the closest wall. I pressed her breathless and waited for the outraged shove. When it didn’t come, I lowered my lips to Hellion’s, our mouths hot with passion. I swooped and dove, eating her up, but she met me, kiss for kiss, breath for breath.

  At last, I raised my mouth but still mashed her tight. “I know you,” I whispered.

  “Oh, yeah?” she panted, her dark eyes challenging.

  “Yeah. You’re hard and tough on the outside because you’ve been hurt so bad. But you’re soft as down on the inside. You have this sassy impermeable shell and meanwhile, you’re aching for someone to break through and find that out. And keep you safe. It’s all just an act. And you’re really lonely. You sit there and read to test everyone that comes up to you, and so far, no one has passed. But you’re dying to love someone if only the right person would show up and win you.”

  Hellion stared at me for several seconds, her eyes soft and glowing. “I love you,” she said, her voice gooey with syrup. I stepped back. “You’ve always been able to read me. You know me so well, you see right through me.”

  I was uncomfortably humbled and laughed. “All right, all right.”

  “You can see I’m just a frightened little girl—”

  “Shut up.”

  “And that I have needs too. I need to be taken care of and—”

  “Shut up, already!” I pulled Hellion back toward the bar. Giggles were gurgling out of her throat. I pulled her close. “Just tell me your name,” I said, my lust smoldering. I felt fire rise in Hellion and meet mine. She tilted her mouth up for more deep kissing. I obliged.

  “What is it? What is it?” I hissed between kisses.

  “All right.” She seemed carried away by my bites. “I’ll tell you.”

  I waited.

  “Mildred.”

  I dropped my hands from her body and shoved her toward the door. “That’s fine. Get back in there and read your book.”

  But she turned and wrapped her arms around me. “More.”

  To my own astonishment, I unwound her arms. “No. No more. Nothing else from me until I have your name.” I opened the door and pushed her inside.

  “Louise.” She grinned.

  “Forget it. I’ll have to see your license now.” I escorted her to her stool and I picked up my own drink and tobacco pouch and returned to the wobbly table where Payne and Carol were nursing beers.

  “Struck out, huh?”

  I ignored this, squeezing my lime wedge into my drink and stirring it with my finger. The ice cold liquid felt good.

  “She’s staring at you,” Carol said.

  I turned around, sucking my index finger. Hellion was indeed burning me up with her gaze. I turned away.

  “Why don’t you go do something about that?” Payne asked.

  “I have. I’ve told her what she has to do.” I shrugged.

  “Man, oh, man.” Payne laughed.

  “What does she have to do?” Carol asked.

  “Just a little private assignment,” I assured Carol, patting her arm.

  “Sounds exciting,” Carol said. Payne gave her the stink eye. “I love to dance,” Carol said. “Do you want to dance with me?”

  I looked at Payne, who appeared angry but resigned. “Sure, go ahead!” Payne laughed heartily.

  I kept Carol at arm’s length and kept her back to Hellion. After a few moments, there was a tug on my shoulder and a cold voice. “Mind if I cut in?”

  Carol was irritated but said, “Okay, I guess not.” She walked back to t
he anxiously waiting Payne.

  I grinned, charmed by Hellion’s approach. “So, we meet again. Couldn’t stay away, could you?” I embraced her and kissed her neck underneath her hair.

  Hellion shivered. “Shut up and dance.”

  “Ready to invite me in yet?”

  “Never.”

  “Suits me. Your loss,” I breathed into her shell pink ear and concentrated on my dancing. We held each other close and started only by swaying. Soon, I was lost in the hypnotic rhythm and we were both spellbound. The music, the people, the bar disappeared. There was only the two of us. I moved Hellion; Hellion moved me, our thighs and hips locked. She raised her arms and fell back; I caught her and gripped her close. We barely noticed the floor clearing. I spun her and then pressed her ample ass into my crotch. We moved, mirroring each other perfectly. I dipped and swung; Hellion matched me, turn for turn, pelvis to pelvis. She was as strong and flexible as rope. I was just sliding my hands down to her plump ass when the song ended and the spell was broken by the crowd streaming back onto the floor. I fell to my knees in front of Hellion and held my arms wide. She looked at me in horror.

  “Get up, you dolt,” she said.

  “Oh, baby, I don’t care what your name is anymore; you set me on fire,” I said, breathless and happy.

  “Get the fuck up.” Hellion’s voice was like a lash. “Go get me a drink. Now!” She sauntered off to the bathroom.

  I got her another glass of wine and returned to the table with Payne and Carol. I sat and lit a cigarette, draining my melted gin and tonic.

  “What the hell was that?” Payne asked.

  “I have no idea,” I answered with a smile, mopping sweat from my face and neck with my soggy bar napkin.

  Hellion emerged from the bathroom and glared at me imperiously until I stood and took her the glass of wine.

  “Thank you. That will be all for tonight,” she said.

  “What do you mean, baby? You can’t start me up and walk away.”

  “I most certainly can.” She looked me up and down as if she couldn’t believe my cheek in objecting. She drank half her glass of wine and then removed a lipstick from her ridiculously tiny purse and refreshed her mouth. “It’s good for you.”

  I laughed, loving this. How long it had been since I felt right? “Oh, but it’s really bad for you,” I answered, clasping Hellion’s waist.