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From: malinov@mindless.com (Malinov)
Subject: {ASS} A Matter of Pride by Lord Malinov
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A Matter of Pride
by Lord Malinov

~~~

Yellow lights reflected in the corners of the glass ashtray under the 
grey-blue twirls of smoke from a smouldering cigarette, a long thin 
cracked forgotten ash.  Kevin tipped his mug slightly, sloshing the 
last few swallows of beer around the foam coated side.

"Can I get you another?" asked the dark-haired waitress.

"Yeah," said Kevin lazily.  He sat up and looked at his watch.  
"Wait," he said.  The small woman looked up at him as she picked up 
an empty plate, crusted with melted cheese and a thick swathe of 
pasty sour cream.  "Yeah, another one," Kevin repeated.  "Might as 
well."

The glass doors of the hotel bar opened into the night.  Kevin looked 
up, hoping.  A heavy man in a black wool coat stepped inside.  Kevin 
watched as the man brushed a thin powder of snow from his broad 
shoulders.  The gust of cold air reached deep inside, pushing the 
wispy column of smoke into a dissipated haze.  Kevin picked up the 
filter of his cigarette and ground it into the dust of the ashtray.  
He looked at his watch again.

"I can't believe this," he said, looking around the bar.  A couple,
dressed in black, leaned over their small table, conspiring.  Kevin
admired the curve of her heavy thigh escaping from the black wool
skirt, her limb tinted in dark stocking.  The young man spoke with
his hand curled around his chin, two fingers resting on his unshaven
cheek.   The pair shared a scowl when a new, too popular song erupted 
from the bar's tinny sound system.

Another chilling blast of cold air turned Kevin's attention back 
toward the entrance.  The doors stood wide open as two couples tried 
to organize their intentions while they came inside.  Kevin snarled 
silently and pulled another cigarette from the crumpled red and white 
package in his breast pocket.  The waitress smiled with a thin gap 
between her front teeth as she put down a fresh mug of beer.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, this is great, thanks," said Kevin, squirming to sit up.  The 
waitress shrugged and went to address the new group of patrons.  
Kevin strained to see out the large window behind a trio of suited 
businessmen, hunched over their cocktails, puffing their cigars and 
laughing with deep, knowing chuckles.  Frost crept in from the edges, 
but Kevin could make out the motion of traffic in the parking lot.

"It's not all that bad out there," he said, wondering if he should 
just pack it in and try to salvage the evening by going out.  Kevin 
sighed and took a long drink.  He picked up the slowly burning 
cigarette and took a puff of smoke.  He didn't really want to leave.  
He didn't want to wander the streets of a strange city.  He didn't 
want to trust the advice of some foul-smelling cabbie.  He didn't 
want to find himself out in the cold snow, more alone there then he 
was here.  He just wanted Carla to show up.

Kevin shifted in his seat, realizing his need to find the bathroom.  
He stood up, stretching his long legs.  The cold door opened and a 
short thick man and his furry round wife giggled as they shuffled 
into the warmth, slapping their shoulders and rubbing pink ears.  
Kevin wondered if he dared abandon his vigilant watch for his old 
friend even for three minutes, but he looked at his watch.  If Carla 
showed up an hour late and didn't wait three minutes, well, that was 
just peachy.  Kevin went past the island of the bar and down the dark 
hallway to the men's room.

Coming back from relieving his bladder's pressure, Kevin took a quick 
stroll around the bar, making certain that Carla hadn't found her way 
into some unseen nook.  A tired looking, wastingly thin woman in a 
red blazer sat quietly across from a timid pock-faced man who played 
intently with a salt shaker.  Kevin took ahold of the brass rail at 
the corner of the bar.  The waitress, reading her notepad, stepped 
into him.

"Excuse me," he said at once.

"Oh," said the waitress, shaking her head and stepping past him 
quickly.

"My pleasure," Kevin said quietly, gently laughing.

A young woman sat alone at a table.  Kevin stopped, draped in the 
large ivy that hung from the top of the bar, and stared at the tall 
blonde girl.  She pursed her ruby lips to take an impatient puff of 
her long cigarette.  Kevin smiled.  Her white cotton blouse fell
elegantly over her shoulders, a soft cascade that rose along the 
rapids of her full breasts.   She lifted a glass of orange juice and 
sipped.  Long, pale calves angled out of her linen white skirt, one 
foot dangling and pulsing in rhythm to the music.  The pretty 
blonde intently watched the entrance to the bar.

"I'm sorry," said the waitress, coming close to Kevin.

"My fault," he said and went back to his table.  The young couple in 
black gave a sudden burst of approval as the music changed and they 
hopped toward the bare space of floor to shake to the exotic rhythms 
of their song.  Kevin pulled out a different chair at his table and 
sat down, one eye on the door, another on the blonde.

Kevin checked his watch.  When they had spoke on the phone, before he 
flew in for the conference, Carla had seemed excited to see him.  
Kevin had expected her to be.  She had always, at least it seemed to 
him, had a crush on him.  He wouldn't have called her, particularly, 
except that he dreaded the trip and hoped that meeting someone 
who would be really happy to see him would make the ordeal easier to 
bear.  Kevin wanted to be adored, if only for a night.  He lit 
another cigarette.

"What I should do is . . . " Kevin said happily and he let a long 
puff of smoke pour forth.  He stole a glance at the blonde as she 
continued to stare at the door.  She was obviously waiting for 
someone who hadn't shown up.  Kevin found it hard to believe anyone 
would forget such a beauty.  "I guess I shouldn't feel too bad," he 
said and took a drink of his beer.

"You, too?" he imagined himself saying.

"I'm just so mad," she would say, still staring at the door.

"It's just inexcusable.  Do you mind?" Kevin would pull out a chair.

"Be my guest," she would say and maybe smile at him.  "I don't know 
why I bother.  He always treats me this way."  Her lower lip would 
tremble.

"Bah.  You deserve better than that.  So do I."  Kevin would buy her 
a drink, perhaps some Champagne to celebrate their escape from the 
clutches of disrespect.  After a few glasses, she would ask if they 
could go back to his place and Kevin would pull out his key.  "Right 
upstairs."  She would pick up her coat and he'd lead her away.

Of course, that would be the very moment when Carla would finally 
show up.  "Sorry, Carla," Kevin would say.  "Maybe next trip.  Who's 
sorry now?"  Kevin laughed cruelly to himself.

Kevin picked up his cigarette and studied the folds of soft cotton 
along the blonde woman's chest, the hints of her pale white breasts.  
He imagined the dark rings of her nipples, the moan he would elicit 
from those succulent lips, the grateful gaze of desire, the heavy 
press of her hips as she knelt over him, those lean thighs spread to 
push that golden twat down hard.  Kevin felt his prick stiffen as he 
lusted, dreaming of her smooth, creamy skin and her hungry, anxious 
kiss.

The door opened, washing the air with a burst of frigid cold.  Kevin 
turned to watch the thin woman in the red blazer hold the door as the 
red-faced man followed behind.  Kevin sighed and looked back toward
blonde.  She stood up, taking her coat.  Kevin picked up his 
cigarette for a final puff and crushed it in the ashes.  The young 
woman walked toward him and Kevin felt his heart skipping, watching 
the sway of her hips under the loose linen skirt.  She pulled her tan 
coat over her shoulders and walked past Kevin's table.  Stopping 
for a moment to button her coat, the pretty blonde opened the door 
and vanished into the snowy night.

Kevin picked up his beer and drank the last swallow.  The mug hit the 
table with a clunk.  Kevin started to look at his watch, but stopped 
himself.  

"Another one?" asked the waitress.

"No," said Kevin.  The door opened once more with a burst of cold.  A 
young woman, her cheeks blushed red with cold stepped inside.  Brown 
curls swam from her knit yellow cap.  She looked at Kevin and smiled.

"Kevin," she called out, full of joy.  "I was afraid you'd have left. 
 My car wouldn't start.  I had to call a cab."  Pulling out a chair, 
she sat down.

"Carla, I'm so glad to see you," Kevin said, smiling.  He leaned over 
and gave her a hug.  "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure, unless you just want to go up to your room.  I hope you don't 
mind if I spend the night.  I don't think I could bear to go out in 
that snow again."  Carla's brown eye's twinkled as she grinned 
lasciviously.

"That's what I like about you, Carla.  You're reading my mind."

~~~

Malinov



Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude

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