It was Wednesday night. Lynette sat in her usual spot in the corner of the trendy mahogany and sparkling glass tavern. It was an easy walk from the firm of Bullard, Trotsky and Hein, LLC where she worked as a billing clerk. Clusters of people were talking and laughing in groups. The smell of liquor and perfume permeated the air while glasses clinked in time to the pulsing beat of the piped in music.
She waved at the bartender. He walked across the Paradise Bar and Grill to personally deliver her Appletini. Lynette considered him a friend.
“You know you’re welcome to sit at the bar where you could visit with all the regulars.” He set the drink down and smiled.
She handed him her credit card. “Keep a tab running for me, Hank. You make the best drinks in town.” She raised her glass in a salute.
“Anyone meeting you?” He knew there would be no one but Lynette might share a little about herself if he asked.
“No. Not tonight.” She answered, taking her first sip. Hank returned to the bar and other customers.
Lynette didn’t want to attract attention on her night out. This was the one time she could get away from home. She liked watching Hank as he served drinks, cleaning as he went. His pitch-dark, shoulder length hair curled, framing his face. He moved in time with the music. His muscular tattooed arms changed shape as he poured and stirred various concoctions.
Lynette motioned to her empty glass and he brought another to her. “Here little lady. Enjoy.” He smiled his best smile showing bright white teeth and a large dimple on his right cheek. Over the evening he sometimes glanced at Lynette wondering about her. She wasn’t bad looking, maybe a little plump, always in a work suit. He’d bet she’d look a lot better if she’d let her auburn hair fall lose instead of clipping it at the back of her head. He thought back and guessed she’d been coming in Wednesday nights for about six months.
Hank didn’t know it, but Lynette’s husband, Paul, thought she was taking a computer class in order to advance in her job. He wouldn’t understand she needed time alone, and he’d be angry knowing she came to a bar. She managed to avoid questions after her imaginary classes, explaining week after week that she was too exhausted to do anything but shower and go to bed. Wednesday night was his poker night with the guys so he didn’t care anyway. In fact, he probably wouldn’t care if she stayed out all night. Their relationship hadn’t been close for several years.
As Lynette sat in the dark corner she tried to remember how she felt when she’d married Paul. Surely she’d been in love with him. She reminded herself he was a good man, a steady person. Maybe she had simply wanted to be like all her friends, wear a white dress, have a big wedding, and have a man committed to loving her.
Hank gave a “hi” sign. She signed back at him and continued sipping her drink. She couldn’t be sure why she married Paul. Why couldn’t he be as good-looking and nice as Hank? Tonight she felt vacant inside, just like she did everyday and every night. At least on Wednesdays the drinks helped.
She gave Hank another wave and he winked. She watched him as he prepared another Appletini for her. Three was her limit. Then she’d drink a glass of water, chew a breath mint and go home. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the cushioned booth.
Hank set the newest drink and a glass of water in front of her. “Hey there pretty lady. Are you okay?”
“Oh. I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“You mind if I sit with you awhile?”
She smiled and he slid in beside her in the booth. “I’m on my break and I was concerned about you. I’ve been watching you week after week, wondering about you.”
“You think about me?” She looked at him closely. He was handsome in a rugged, young Clint Eastwood kind of way, probably ten years her junior.
His blue eyes gazed back at her, not moving, concentrating on her. “Why are you always alone? I can tell something is wrong. Maybe a broken heart?”
Lynette looked down and was unable to speak. She felt tears forming so she tried to picture a circus clown or a barking dog. Anything to distract her.
Hank continued. “I admit, I think about you in between your visits and look forward to seeing you. I know you must have lots of great personal experiences to talk about, someone as sweet as you.”
She shook her head. “No. No special stories to tell,” she said. “Just a husband that could care less about me.”
“How could that be? Someone as beautiful as you; someone obviously intelligent?” Hank moved closer to her and reached for her hand.
She blushed but didn’t take it away.
He caressed and stroked it gently. “I’m so sorry your husband is such a jerk. He should be here with you each week, sharing time with you, listening to whatever you have to say.”
“Oh, Hank. That’s kind of you. He’s a good guy, just busy with his job and life and his buddies. I sit here week after week attempting to think what I’ve done to cause him not to care.”
“In my opinion he should at least make an effort to be with you. That’s what a good man would do for his woman.” Hank leaned in closer and pushed her hair back from her face.
Tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks. “I’m so lonely, Hank. I try, but I can’t even remember what it feels like to be loved.”
His thumb brushed a tear aside and he looked into her eyes in that special way a man can look inside a woman he finds interesting.
“No one should feel this way, especially someone like you Lynette. He continued to finger her hair and her face, then her lips.
Lynette took a deep breath. She hadn’t felt anything so sensual in a very long time. She took his hand in hers and ran her fingers in and out each digit. Then she brought it to her lips. “I admit it, Hank. I’ve watched you too and felt a deep attraction. I know it’s wrong but I can’t help it.”
She felt his hand run up her thigh under her skirt. “I’ve felt the same,” he said in a deep, soft husky voice.
Lynette’s breath came in gulps and she felt flush all over.
“Why don’t I get Bert to watch the bar and maybe the two of us can go somewhere more private where we can really talk, visit and get to know each other better.” Hank smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips.
She shuddered and nodded. “Yes. Yes. That would be wonderful. Yes.” ...
“Lynette. Lynette! Are you okay?” Hank was standing next to the booth looking down at her, a glass of water in his hand.
Lynette opened her eyes and blinked. She gasped and shook her head hard to revive. “Oh. I must have fallen asleep” She looked around the room to see if anyone was looking at them. “You see, it’s been a long, long day.”
“I hope you’re okay. Maybe skipping another drink would be a good idea.” He set the glass and the check in front of her. “Let me get you a cup of dark roast coffee. It’ll help, give you energy.”
Lynette watched him, still relishing the dream of his strong hands and soft lips against her body.
Hank set a steaming cup on the table and patted her on the back. “It happens, drinking a bit too much after a hard day at the office. No worries. I have experience in these things; see them often.” Hank went back to the bar and other customers.
Lynette brushed a few lose tendrils of hair back behind her ears and drank the coffee. Then she pulled herself up and slipped along the far wall to the front door, avoiding stares, to a cab, and home.
***
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