Tina's rules

[SirGinTheD]

When I was 13 and shy, I pined for Tina Keller, the pixie little blonde who lived on Sycamore Street. I was three years younger than her, and three years is a lifetime at that age. She never looked my way.

That changed one Wednesday night more than two decades later. After high school, Tina had moved to Wisconsin and I'd lost track of her. But I recognized her the minute she walked into the Watchtower Lounge with a skinny little guy trailing behind. Tina and I locked eyes for a good five seconds.

The bar was empty, other than Old Joe slumped in his usual seat near the jukebox mumbling incoherent syllables punctuated by the occasional, "goddamn mother-fucker." Tina could've sat anywhere, but she chose a table at the opposite end of the room from me while her companion trudged toward the bar. I noticed he ordered only one drink, which he carted back to the table and set on a napkin in front of Tina. He stood there a second before she nodded at him, and then he took a seat at the table across from her. She cocked her head and stared and me, flashing what appeared to be a cross between a sneer and a smile.

My antenna buzzed. Every hair follicle tickled, and my ears burned. Was this really happening?

I decided to find out. I pushed my chair back, stood bolt upright, and strode across the bar toward the jukebox. Old Joe scratched his nuts as I put a dollar in. A few seconds later, Marvin Gaye's voice rang out: "I been really tryin' baby/tryin' to hold back these feelings for so long...let's get it on."

I thought about asking Tina to dance, but I figured that would be too forward. Maybe I was misreading them. I was almost positive they were my fantasy couple -- a dominant wife with a wimp husband looking for a lover. But almost doesn't cut it; ask the wrong man's old lady to dance while he's sitting right there, and he might just whip out a 9mm and bust a cap in your ass, even if he does look like a powder-puff.

Instead, I made my way to their table and said: "I remember you from Franklin; you're Tina Keller. You were three years older than me, so you might not remember. Kevin Summers?"

"I don't know how, but I don't remember you," she said. "And I usually remember sexy guys when I see them."

I glanced at her companion, who was looking at his shoes. Tina snorted.

"Oh, don't worry about shit-stain here. He's just my husband."

A bell went off in my head. "Your husband?" I swallowed. "Mind if I join you?"

Tina smiled. "Of course." She turned to her husband. "Timmy, run and get Mr. Summers a chair. He stood up and she said, "on second thought, just give Mr. Summers your chair. Go sit at the bar until I call you."

I decided to take a chance. "Hey, Tina, can you make him get my drink for me? I left it at my table."

"You heard him, wimp; go get his drink." The wimp rushed to obey; I felt a surge of power as he carefully set my Jack and Coke on the table in front of me.

Tina jerked her thumb. "Okay, shit-stain, get the fuck outta here."

I threw back my head and laughed. "Damn, girl, you're a trip. What's up with all that? He get off on being treated like shit?"

She shrugged. "Who cares? I get what I need from him. Let's just say he pays the bills."

"So he's got money. That makes sense; otherwise, a weasel like him would never get close to a sexy mama like you."

"Oh, he don't get close to me anyway," she said. "He's got a foot thing, so I let him sniff my shoes."

I could barely breathe. This was what I'd always fantasized about, and it was actually happening -- and with Tina Freaking Keller of all people. I tried not to overplay my hand.

"Sniff your shoes, huh? Well, who takes care of the rest of you?"

I could tell my line had bowled her over, but she was trying to play it cool, too. "I don't know, stud. You applying for the job?"

I leaned back in my chair. "I don't know. Have your bitch-boy get us another drink, and we'll negotiate."

She snapped her fingers and he came running.


(to be continued)

[SamWarrens]

This could be interesting! Lets see some more chapters!