Remember last week? 82 freakin’ degrees and my radar was on like Donkey Kong. They were pointing me in the eye everywhere and I could hear them singing in the warm wind. That’s right, nipples, freed from their wintery confines made a maddeningly brief appearance and then were chased back undercover by the cruel whims of that bitch goddess, Mother Nature. Nothing like a wintry Easter to fuck with your mood and my libido, right?
The bartender nodded glumly and I got an amen from the choir.
“I hear ya, man, it doesn’t do much for anybody,” a small spectacled woman at the bar to my left agreed. Her two sizes too big coat confirmed her testimony. “Just when I was ready for it, given a taste, it gets taken away from me.”
“True that, sister,” I said as I paid my tab and headed out the door. A chill wind slapped my upside the head. I started the sort of trip home that I hate (alone) when I heard the one woman choir call from behind.
“Hey, would you mind walking me back to my car? I don’t know about this neighborhood at night.”
“Sure,” I said. Her little reddish blonde hair bopped along beside me until we reached a beat up old cruiser van straight out of the ’70s.
“It’s not much but it gets me where I want to go,” she said. ” Hop in, I’ll give ya ride. You live around here?”
Wait a minute, I thought to my self, otherwise speechless as I climbed aboard.
And so off went the glasses, down came the hair and there went the coat. And there they were – two of the finest rayon wrapped nips I’ve ever seen and they were headed my way.
“God, I’m cold. Help me get warm, will ya? And what’s your name anyway?”
Looks like my radar needs a tune-up. Hand me that tube of lube, will ya?
(Holden found the time to take the photo above after his “ride”)