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Random Redhead Anecdote #3
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Random Redhead Anecdote #3 From my holiday earlier this year, an example of how a possibly innocuous encounter can be refracted through the prism of sexual frustration. Northern hemisphere. Small-town setting. I was attending my cousin's 33rd birthday party, at the local pub, setting up shop in the adjoining pool room. I met a lot of my cousin's friends for the first time. One of my cousin's mates brought his (Irish) girlfriend, who I'll refer to as Y. Very pretty, wild-eyed, long red hair, leggy (very tall - taller than me, and I'm over 6 feet tall), clad in a black short-sleeved<b> lacy </font></b>blouse and tight bright-blue leggings... She had a loud, raucous sort of temperament and was pretty manic even before she started hitting the whiskeys lime. I spent the better part of the night chatting to Y's boyfriend, discovering we shared leftist political views and common musical tastes, i.e. the Sex Pistols and The Clash (Y's boyfriend was the first person I'd shared a detailed verbal conversation on Public Image Ltd with, and I was also impressed by the fact his stepfather attending the recording sessions for The Clash's London Calling). All the while I couldn't help but feel guilty that I was finding his girlfriend amazingly sexy as she was circling around and stretching across the pool table. Anyway, since Y was getting drinks for herself and her boyfriend and I was with her boyfriend, she got me a drink as well... As the night had its course, people were alternating between the pool room and the bar, and eventually it got to the point where the only people in the pool room were Y and me... We decided to shoot some pool and eventually I won. I extended my hand for the customary handshake but instead Y hugged me and we shared our names. I told her we hadn't been introduced but I overheard her name being mentioned during the course of the night. Y asked if I wanted another drink. I said sure, but only if I paid for it, because she'd already bought me a drink... Y said she was buying because she lost against me in pool. I demurred and said we should go to the bar and sort it out there. We got to the bar, where Y's boyfriend was, and Y already had the ear of the bartender. Y asked me what I wanted, and I said a GT (yeah, I know, real manly drink...). Y ordered another whiskey lime for herself, and I withdrew a 20-pound note from my wallet to pay. "You're not paying!" Y thundered. "Look," I replied, "You've already bought me a drink and I don't want to be a freeloader. I'm paying for these drinks." Before I knew what was happening, Y snatched the money out of my hand and shoved it into her back pocket. This was getting a bit silly, but not in an annoying way, and I proceeded to take out my wallet since I had another 20 quid in there. Y grabbed my wallet and held it away from me. I made a token wussy effort to grab it, but she cackled, "You can't fight me," before bellowing "I'm a STRONG IRISH WOMAN!!!" and slipping my wallet into her back pocket to join the 20 quid she'd already shanghaied from me. So Y paid for our drinks with her money, and I was wondering how on Earth I'm supposed to get my wallet and money back without groping Y's (perfect) arse, as my wallet and money were firmly wedged in the back pocket of her tight leggings. Then I wondered if she wanted me to go for it... Y ordered and paid for another round of drinks, this time a double gin for me. By this point in time it was the very early morning and as luck (?) would have it, the lift for me and my cousins had arrived. As I swigged my double gin, Y was informed by her boyfriend I was going and she had to give me wallet back. Y and I went outside - her boyfriend remained inside the bar - and Y gave my wallet and money back to me. Realising I might never see Y again, or not for a while, I accepted when she extended her arms for a hug. I thanked her for the drinks and added, "It was nice to have met you, you're a really lovely girl." Y nestled her head against me and said, "Do you realise how lovely you are...?" I stammered some thanks and offered a typically-defective, self-deprecating comment. "No, no, no..." Y replied as she squeezed harder in my embrace, crushing her soft breasts against my chest. "You should let people tell you how lovely you are... You are SO lovely..." She finished by whispering "I love you..." into my ear. Now, given this woman was drunk, I was sure she didn't mean what she was saying, or wouldn't say it if had she not been off her trolley. Still, I can't deny that in the moment - and with knowledge that her boyfriend was only a few metres away - in the arms of this woman I had been lusting after all night, I was feeling a potent conflation of flattery, terror, and arousal. In any case, Y and I disengaged, I went home, with thoughts of Y lingering in my fevered brain and dominating my fantasies... |
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