Smut With A Smirk

Late one night at Slammies, while I was living in an overcrowded emotional cul de sac, imagine my surprise to find Cathy leaning against the pool table right outside the Men’s Room door. Provocatively rolling the bright white cue ball in her hand, “A bit o stick?” she asks as a sly smile crosses her lips. I remembered that smile. Once upon a time we dated briefly and been lovers. Years before that we had clandestine make out sessions in my car at forest preserves when we both were involved with others. Hours of kissing and petting invested, this face was one I knew well. Now here we were together, closing time at Slammies. She was the bartender and the dim pool table light was the only illumination left glowing. The front neon beer lights were extinguished. The drinking lamps was no longer lit. Actually for once at closing neither was I, but I had stopped in here at the end of some complicated relations with a complex woman, who had offered up some amazingly straight forward opti...

I confess, I was in serious decompression mode from the events of the last year or two. I had lost everything but myself. But try as I could I couldn't shake me. Not only was I operating on a serious chill-axin deficit, I was in the throes of beloved withdrawal with no recourse but to keep my dear one in my thoughts, prayers, and dreams. Neither one of us had the space to share in our lives as we had once enjoyed. As had happened at certain points in my life, even though I now lived crosstown, I returned to the scene of, while not crimes, questionable choices and activities at best. That would be an understatement. Many inexplicably joyous moments. So much uncalled for and unnecessary hurt both inflicted and received within the corridor like walls of this once dive bar. Now reborn and expanded into twenty first century sports venue drinking and watching splendor.  Perhaps a bit disappointed with Reginald tending to the bar today without a JoJo in sight I was undeterred. Bu...