Rose
Damn, I gonna miss that girl.
I fell in with her by just a fluke of damn luck. She was dancing at a piss ant dive strip club just outside of Denver by about twenty miles out on a piece of blacktop that only people that don’t want to run the main roads use. Fucking place was a fall-down drunk joint; not in any city limits, out too many miles on the road to nowhere for the County Deputies to care to drive out to unless forced by a worthless fight call.
Dudes were passed out on the freaking floor and
it was only ten o’clock. The parking lot
looked like a cheap-ass “junkyard” car lot; with cash sales only with no
refunds. Every car in the parking lot
was at least fifteen years old with fenders dented on every corner and some
along the sides. What a junkyard; the clientele
had to be a bunch of losers, druggies that must have been turned lose by their
fat old ladies with heads full of curlers or so dope sick they couldn’t make it
down to the dive or just paroled looking for a drink and a fight, kicked loose
from a seedy trailer park or the County lock up. About every fifth running wreak was an old
but nice pickup; even with the dents, the kind that screams “Red Neck” right
down to the gun rack in the back window; a couple even sported old mangy dogs
sitting dead bored in the bed of the trucks.
I’d just come across the State of Kansas, what a fucking
place. I’d been told it was flat as a
pancake, but that was a hell of an understatement. Four hundred miles on my tired old oil-smoking
Plymouth road runners’ speedo; two quarts of oil every fill up whether she
needed it or not; blue cloud of burnt oil followed us everywhere we went.
Another three hours across some godforsaken State my eyes were straining to see the white line. The night sky was lit with banks of neon lights; they covered every inch of the tar paper building I could see up ahead on the two-lane highway. I’d seen those types of joints before and they begged “Come on in, have a couple of beers, there’s titties to be seen”.
I pulled into the dirt parking lot leaving a
plum of dust in the air so high and wide that the next four cars wouldn’t be
able to see the neon until they were already passed; I pulled right up to the
front door and it occurred to me that I’d just driven into the sixties like on
an ol’ Twilight zone TV show. If I was a
little smarter I’d backed out and kept going until morning; driving until
finding the next Texaco station where I might just be able to score another six-pack
of Bud and a fresh pack of smokes before they cancel my card.
Good sense was not on the menu so parking next to one of the better-looking wreaks; I jumped out and headed for what I expected to be a real letdown. At the front door was a bouncer; fat fuck, crew cut and over the hill in his early twenties, that looked to be about a decade and a half ago. Fat fuck said “$10 cover charge” and put up a full ham-sized arm towards my chest to stop my advance. I kept on going until his hand was on my chest and pushed him back a full step. Again he said “$10 cover charge” in his “I’m so fucking fat and scared shitless someone will call me out voice” I looked down at his hand and he quickly pulled it off my jean jacket; my favorite jean jacket. I looked him in the eye and said “I’m with the band”. “$10 cover charge,” he said softly for the third time. I looked at him with my “Are you fucking kidding me look” and closed the distance he made with his retreating step. Face flushing and taking but another step backward he wasn’t happy with my aggressive manner and in his face attitude; we were now inside the joint and the music was obviously from a cheap recording and crap speakers that must have come from one of the dollar stores. “$10 fucking bucks to cover the band fuck face” I growled in his fat face so close my lips brushed his like a soft kiss. He jerked back and I walked around him into the stinking nasty assed dive; it was smaller than it looked from the outside.
There were
maybe ten tables spread around the square building and six rickety stools at
the shabby dirty bar. The place smelled
of old beer and older barf with a twist of body odor thrown in; made you breathe
short shallow breaths through your nose so you wouldn’t get any in your mouth. The floor was uneven; boards warped and cracked
with golf ball-sized holes every foot or so.
It came to mind; “I wonder how a couple of these fat ass losers made it in
here without going right through the floor”.
There was a spotlight shining on one giant round ball hanging from the
ceiling looking like it could drop like a stone and kill someone at any moment;
it must have been four feet across. It
was made up of broken mirror pieces glued on some sort of round; something. It
was hanging in the center of what was supposed to be a dance floor; luckily
they had high ceilings or the girls would have to dance around the stupid thing. The dance floor was a half circle and only about
ten feet around. It was raised three
feet above the main floor of the bar; broken linoleum tiles and some kind of
patch material was all twisted and uneven as much as two inches from one spot
to the next. The thought of seeing one
of the girls do a spectacular naked spread eagle fall entered my mind and I
dismissed it with a quick smile and a shake of the head; I have crazy thoughts sometimes,
funny ones but crazy.
I took a seat next to the junky dance floor still thinking
about a spread eagle fall into my arms when the barmaid that had to be in her
sixties asked me what my pleasure was. I
smiled my biggest shitty grin and said “Oh I think you know” followed by a
twisted toothy grin. That was all it
took and she was all smiles and gushing friendly, I’d just made her day. “I’ll just take a Bud; no glass needed” With
a wink she was off.
My Bud was back in a flash and I asked her when the floor
show was going to start. “Bout ten
minutes or so” was the answer with a toothy grin and a slight toss of what had
to be the most dyed hair in America. She
bent over the little table showing every inch of wilted tits that were so over
the hill that the hill couldn’t be seen in the rearview mirror. I gave her a little nod and dismissed her;
her reply was a deep huff, twisting her wrinkled lined mouth into what used to work
as a pout; she was off like a rocket.
Ten minutes turned into twenty and finally the music picked
up a notch or two and the drunks started to clap and shout; even woke a couple
up from the floor. Five minutes later
just as I was beginning to think that no one was going to come out; I about
shit myself sitting right there in my hard ass seat with my warm and almost
empty Bud in one curled fist; out comes one of the most beautiful women I think
I’d ever seen. I damn near pissed myself
right then and there. She was about five-ten,
tits hard as rocks that had to be “C’s” if not bigger, and the thinnest waist
under those big bad girls I’ve seen in years.
Thank god no cheap costume was hiding her stomach, those abs; six-pack
going on a short case. Thighs that a bodybuilder
would have been proud of; lines of muscles rippling under tanned perfect
skin. Toned calves; triceps that had to
be gym built; biceps that were groomed to perfection if not a little large for
a medium-sized woman born and raised in heaven.
Her hair was nearly white it was so blond, free-flowing well past the
middle of her back; thick like a thatched roof.
My face ached from the stupid smile on my face. A hard punch in the shoulder brought me back
to the moment; did I want another Bud?
Oh hell yes, yes, yes, yes; another huff was all I noticed as my eyes
were glued on what had just walked into my life.
The goddess on the raised floor above me swayed, twisted,
and spun; high kicks showing flexibility were just one of the many talents she must
possess. Her movements to the shit music
straining from dollar store speakers were probably the best I’d ever seen;
smooth, sensuous, perfect. “Perfection
of movement and rhythm” was what my brain was saying. Perfect smile; teeth so white that the
flashing light from the spotlight off the mirror ball reflected blinding white
light from her teeth into my eyes. Eyes
an incredible deep sea blue. Why were my
eyes watering so? I was in the presence of an angel from heaven and my mind was
not thinking pure thoughts as the front of my pants would attest to. In an instant her bit was up and she left the
floor as quickly as she had appeared. I found myself standing at the edge of
the dilapidated stage, it was all I could do not to jump up on the stage and
follow her like a moth to a flame.
Somehow another Bud had
appeared in my fist and was almost gone; magic.
I sat there stunned for more than just a few minutes without
noticing that another dancer had taken the stage and was trying to get someone
to realize she was working her ass off spinning, kicking, grinding it out just trying
to get noticed. I wasn’t the only hard dicked
patron in this shit hole sitting there with glazed-over eyes, dizzy light
headed from what we’d just been blessed to see; it sure wasn’t the beer and a
half I’d drank or even the joint that was smoked out on the road.
I left a twenty on the table and started looking for a way into
the back rooms where I had to find my angel.
Off to the right side of the bar were the doors going to the shitter’s,
Men’s, or Women’s; hidden off to the left of the opening was a single recessed
door with peeling paint that at some point in the last millennium looked to be
red. It had an “Authorized Person’s Only”
sign hanging by a bent nail on the upper half of the door. It was leaning heavily to the left since
someone hadn’t even put a single nail in the center of the sign. My heart was pounding as I twisted the knob
and found it to be unlocked. I stepped
through the door into a dark hallway sporting maybe six doors at random spacing
down both sides of the hall. I silently
closed the door on its rusted hinges without a squeak of protest and put my ear
to the first of four doors without hearing a sound coming from inside. The fifth door on the right I could hear the
faint movements of a person and gently knocked.
A sweet woman’s voice called in response “Come in” I opened the door and
looked straight into a mirror against the wall no more than six feet away. The reflection was that of my angel from
heaven in body powder and nothing else.
She was pulling her blond wig off and didn’t act as though she even knew
I was there staring at her naked reflection in the mirror. She made no move to cover up, only turned and
said “Oh…. I saw you in the audience…. Did you like my performance?” “I loved it” I croaked; somehow the sight of
her perfect breasts and body had taken the air from the room. She wasn’t blond, but strawberry blond and
the rug matched the curtains perfectly.
The color was more strawberry than blond but not to the point you’d call
her a redhead. She was breathtaking even
in the foul dim single sixty-watt light bulb over the dressing room mirror.
I realized I was standing in her dressing room where I
wasn’t supposed to be with a raging hard on and she was completely naked; I
noticed the weirdness and said “I’m sorry my name is David and I just wanted to
talk to you after the incredible performance you just did” She waved an arm dismissing
my compliment, making her right breast raise and bounce with the jester. “Yes, you are David from Chicago…. I’ve been
waiting for you” With that announcement her nipples raised to full erection;
she didn’t seem to notice.
“They call me Rose that is the name that I use here I have
no other I know”. She made another
dismissive wave and turned back to the mirror again working on wiping clean the
makeup from her gorgeous face. As the
colors came off her incredible beauty increased. The makeup was covering and taking away from
her natural beauty. I stood transfixed
by the sheer beauty that was before me, she was becoming more breathtaking by
the minute.
“How do you know that I’m from Chicago” “I just came into this crap bar less than an
hour ago”. Another dismissive wave sent
chills up my back as I again watched her breast make its journey up and back to
the natural position.
“I’ve been waiting for you David of Chicago” “I need a ride to my people, will you take me
there David of Chicago?” What do you say
to the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid eyes on and she asks you five
minutes after meeting her to give her a ride; plus that is the direction you’re
going anyway?
‘Ummmmm……… Of course”…
She had her bag packed; one small suitcase that was no
larger than the standard airline carry-on.
She finished cleaning the paint off her face and tossed all her makeup;
which wasn’t much, into the suitcase with a click she shut it and headed out
the door.
“Wait; don’t you have to get your check or something from
dancing” as I raced to catch up. She’d
already made it down the dark hall and was going through the “Authorized Persons
Only” door. She spoke over her shoulder
not slowing down “Nope, my time here is over and my debt is paid.” Across the bar room floor with a wave to the bartender
and past the fat-assed bouncer with no more than a slight wave of her
hand. Standing just outside the shit
house door of the tavern slash strip club she surveyed the parking lot as
though she would know which my ride was.
To my dwindling surprise, she walked to the passenger side
of my Road Runner and waited for me to open the door for her. I wiped the surprised look off my face and
opened the door for her; as she got in she said “We need to go West, David of
Chicago”
I got in the driver’s seat and leaving a cloud of blue oil
smoke and dust in the air; we headed West through Colorado towards Idaho; she
was asleep within two minutes and laid her head against my shoulder. Her strawberry blond hair covered her face
but the slow delicate breaths told me she was fast
asleep.
Two hours later and a hundred and fifty miles later she woke
and told me she had to be at the meeting place no later than June 21th
the summer solaces; and fell instantly back to sleep. At dinner our first night I asked her where
we were going and she handed me a satellite photo of the Middle Sister Mountain
in the Cascade Range in Oregon. We had
two full weeks to get there. That was
all the information I was going to get; she changed the subject, gave half
answers, and laughed when I asked her for more detail on why she had to be at
the Mountain on the summer solaces.
Our time passed in a flash; traveling, eating, sleeping, and
making love every night. I fell
completely in love with my Rose. After
the first day, I didn’t ask any more questions; I was so mesmerized by Rose that
anything she asked or said was taken as a fact.
June 21st came to us as we were making love;
wrapped in twisted sheets of the Best Western in Sister’s Oregon. It was a small resort town with too many gift
shops to count. We woke at 8:00 am the
morning of the summer solace. Rose was
wired higher than a kite; there was no comforting her and the thought of
calming her down was not an option. She
rushed me into the Plymouth and off we went towards the Mountains. She sat in the passenger seat with her legs
crossed up in the seat. The only thing
holding her in the seat was the shoulder strap.
Her eyes were closed and she directed me left or right as we came to a
crossroads. We left the blacktop and
headed higher on gravel and then dirt roads.
Dirt roads turned into logging tracks which the Roadrunner just couldn’t
make up. This didn’t faze Rose; she just
instructed to back up and go right at the bottom of the road; never opening her
eyes. After several missed turns and
logging roads, she suddenly said “Stop; this is as close as we can make
it.” She leaned across the seat and gave
me a long hard kiss on the lips. “Goodbye
David of Chicago, I will see you again and we will be lovers once again, forever.” She reached into the back seat, grabbed her
small luggage jumping out the door. “I
will see you again; David of Chicago; I will send you a message when I’m coming
back” Without a second look she was gone
into the brush of the Middle Sister of the Cascade Range.
I’m telling this story now because today in the mail I
received a postcard with a strawberry-colored rose on the front and a message
that read “Tomorrow David of Chicago, June 21st the summer solaces,
I will see you then.” Signed “Rose”
I’ve waited forty-seven years for my Rose to return. I can’t wait to see her.
From the Ramblings
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