Liquid lunch

“You still specialise in these dives” Blair say’s pulling up a stool, and placing her designer handbag on the bar and plucking out a black plastic card, and ask’ s,  “Have you eaten?” She looks great in a sundress, and sky-high espadrilles
“Of course, these things come with olives, love” plucking out the olive and feeding it to her.  She makes a show of it taking the toothpick and returning it.
“OK, who’s the bitch? Did she shatter your illusions of love? You have illusions of love?  “ Blair asks the last part sounding slightly incredulous.
She snatches my iPhone scrolls through photos, and Demands “Her!” I signal for   bartender I explain both, our involved martinis and instruct that, until told otherwise, these drinks come like clockwork.
“She’s pretty!” I answer.
“She is and also not your type.” Blair say’s with certainty.
“I don’t have a type,” I answer.
Enjoying the fire in Blair’s eyes.  She rises out of her stool. She motions with her along the sides of her body, and say’s this is your type tall, blonde, thin.  And baby blues I have known you for years, and in a police line-up we would be hard to differentiate, my sorority sisters, then girls from the agency. All the same type. I read your poems, and I am not getting someone who was good for you. I am getting, that you fixed her, and she’s done. I hope the sex was good.”
“This would be a good time for the next drink, and subject change. “I say. And signal for another round.
Blair whispers in my ear. “”I get the whole Bukowski vibe lets get out of here” waving the bartender to settle the tab.
In her car she plays Lana del Rey and lights up a spliff.  I relax, and we take off touring the neighbourhood, then she starts’ “So, how was the sex?”
This was weird as usually that’s where I usually start, but it didn’t happen then  it was over. This whole thing makes no sense.” I answer
Blair looks t me uncourageously and say’s “This is not you! You’re not as tender as all that, I have seen you not talk to someone again, because you had been on 2 sexless dates. This is not you. In about 10 minutes you will have no memory of that, woman we’re going to your place, and scare your puppies.  We pull into my driveway. “Who’s staring at us?” Blair ask’ s.
I look in the rear-view mirror, and I answer “Marcy, the lead real housewife of  summer’s Eve Manor.”
“You like her Blair ask’ s. pulling her hair into a pony tail. Puts the windows down tosses the roach. Then stares across the street and her head drops into my lap as she unfastens my jeans and starts doing down on me. I no longer remember my name.
She comes up kisses me, and says, “Now that she has something to talk about lets go inside, and do this right” I walk her to the door, and let her in my shirt strategically  placed..
“Strip! I tell her and put some music on, and grab a bottle of Champagne pour two flutes she I watch from wriggles out of her sundress to music.   Dancing in bra and panties until they come off too.  I call her over hand her champagne.  She takes a long swallow and puts it down. I take drink put mine down. I kiss her caressing her gently feeling her nipples erect under my touch hips are swaying rhythmically. I take her by the hand lead to the bedroom.
Blair says Anything, but missionary. If I wanted boring I would do my husband.” I throw her in bed. Fashion a blindfold out of a neck tie, and tell her “wait” I go to the kitchen   get a bowl and put ice in it, then go back to Blair she’s on all fours, I turn her on her back kiss her then run ice along her nipples followed by my tongue,
and repeat between her thighs on labia. “Just fuck   me!” Blair screams I tease her for a few more minutes. I take off her blindfold and take her from behind. We arrive together Blair screaming. And I have serious chemistry.
“I read your poetry the first 72 hours of detox are tough you call me if you think of that woman.  I have to get home.” Blair says dressing. It takes me a couple of moments to realise whose she’s talking about.