Jukebox Memories

   ” Dammit Quinn! This is the last time I wait 3 hours for you.” I said tossing  my black blazer over the arm of the sofa as I headed out the front door letting it slam behind me.

   The night was dark and the street lights were on. I didn’t need my jacket because the fall weather in California was breezy but pleasant, even in my favorite red silk blouse and black knit skirt I wouldn’t be cold. I should have taken my heels off before leaving though, I thought to myself. Tom Collins was calling my name at the local watering-hole, known as The Red Tavern but if you’re a local you’d call it Red’s.

   Red’s was a red brick building facing the highway. Nothing pretty to look at but definitely the type of place a moment like this calls for. At any given night you could see a few motorcycles parked out on the street. Most nights you could only hear the jukebox playing when the front door was opened or closed. Friday and Saturday nights a live band can be found perched on the stage at the back of the bar facing the crowd of tables. Being that it was a Thursday night, there weren’t many people inside as I let the door shut behind me.

   I don’t come here often, but I’ve lived in town all my life. So most of the patrons who frequented Red’s where the post-man (or post-woman if that upsets you to just say man), cashier at the gas station or grocery store and on occasion the Fire Chief would make a guest appearance but mostly it was just the locals. Tonight none of that mattered. I sat in my usual spot, just under the TV mounted on the wall at the end of the bar. The smoke that lingered through the air gave Red’s its usual haze that wrapped around its pool tables and low hanging lamps advertising various beers. The steel guitar set the mellow mood which was what I was seeking. Drowning my miserable night into my glass was the therapy I needed.

   Sitting on the bar stool, I rested my sullen face above my elbow on the palm of my hand which seemed to have beckoned the bar tender unbeknownst to me.

   “Feelin’ alright darlin’ ?” the long haired bar tender asked, swishing his ponytail over one shoulder.

   “The usual, please Donny.” I sighed to him.

   “Cheer up, he’ll be back.” He said as he pulled a glass from the rack above his head and scooped ice into the silver tumbler.

   “I’m not so sure I want him back this time.”

   “On the house dear.” He said placing my glass in front of me.

   I could feel the alcohol pulsing through my veins after 3 turned up-side down glasses stood in front of me. The music was starting to course through my bones just as quickly. My head was starting to bob as my shoulders began to sway.

   “How’s the drink Jen?” Donny called out to me.

   “Another please and some quarters.”

   “Comin’ right up.”


            “Babe! Where are you at?” I stumbled through the front yard. I could have sworn she would have left a light on for me, at least left a door unlocked. I peeked in through the window of the garage, but when my hand pressed on the glass the door popped open. It was dark inside so I felt along the wall for the switch. Blinded for a minute by the light, I was shocked that her car wasn’t parked in her parking spot. She really wasn’t home.

            I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t meet up with her for dinner at Shanooks and I completely spaced calling her to cancel early enough in the day but, this…”Fuck!” I climbed back into my truck and peeled out in the drive way.

            “What have you done?” I yelled at myself beating my hands into the steering wheel. This wasn’t the first time I’ve missed out on dinner and it probably won’t be the last but I certainly didn’t want it to end tonight. Being a contractor means working very long odd hours sometimes.

            I drove around trying to clear my head but my anger was being fueled by road rage the longer I drove with all the idiots on these city streets. The neon light beckoned me from across the street. I decided to leave my truck locked up and headed back across the street to shot some pool and have a few beers.

            “Bud please.” I called out to the bar tender.

            “Draft or bottle?” He asked.

            “Bottle, anyone playing at the end table?”

            “Not tonight.” He said while wiping down the bar.

            I reached into my jeans and pulled a few bucks out and laid them on the bar, made my way to the pool table. I set the rack and busted the balls with such force, that they scattered pretty evenly. I looked around and few people were staring at me. Most of these guys wouldn’t dare say a word to me. After a few shots I was able to calm down enough to take the edge off a bit.

            There were about 15 to 20 people in the bar, when I called for another beer. Just as the ice cold bottle touched my lips a familiar song began playing on the jukebox. This song reminded me of our first date, in a bar just like this one. I turned around to see who had selected it. There wasn’t anyone standing in front of the glowing jukebox, but there was a woman slow dancing on the dance floor alone with her back to me. I paused to watch her.

    She had just let her chestnut colored hair down as it fell to her waist with a bounce. Her shoulders were swaying in the opposite direction of her hips, which were framed perfectly by a short black skirt. Her heart shaped derriere was perched on a pair of very muscular yet very feminine leg’s that she decorated with an enticing pair of black high heels. (Mouth watering to say the least) Before she could turn around I seized the moment and ran my hand around her waist, resting it on her flat silk covered stomach. I felt her body push into me as her hand reached up around the back my neck and her head fell to one side resting on my chest.

            Our bodies molded to each other perfectly like melted plastic, swaying to the guitar and drums filling the bar. Her perfume pierced through the thick cloud of smoke and awakened my desire to consume her. I laid my lips gently on her bare neck and kissed her soft skin feeling it’s warmth against my mouth while breathing in her elaborate scent. A light sigh broke away from her when I grabbed her waist and spun her around to face me. She twirled around, grinding her hips towards me resting one leg on either side of my leg. She cradled my head with her hands behind me while running her nails up and down my bald head. The sensation made me throb and gave me hope. She was working up the tiger inside of me and I wasn’t going to be out done.

            I pulled her close to me pressing my body harder against hers, grinding my lips with hers while my hands roamed across her back and shoulders, and finally coming to rest on the top of her ass. Bending her backwards, she stretched her elegant arms above her head, I caressed her long neck, down her throat and settled on her cleavage when out of nowhere a guttural moan escaped my lips and echoed off her skin.

            I glided her up my body until I was staring at her pale blue eyes seeing my own reflection in them. “I’m so sorry Babe.” I whispered in her ear as I moved her hair away and kissed the tender spot at the curve of her neck. “Are you ready to go home Jen?” And with a very persuasive kiss, I got my answer.

(P.S. Sorry for the spacing issues with this post, I’ll figure it out one day)

6 thoughts on “Jukebox Memories

  1. Yeah, I agree with “momma” and was curious who this wonderful man was sweeping you off your feet at a bar also… Considering I don’t drink… 🙂

    1. Like I said to my mom’s comment, the man was a character from the Sookie Stackhouse books. His character stuck out in my head enough, that when I had a dream the other night of this lady in a bar who was sulking over her lover’s lack of consideration, I just knew the man in my dream was the man in the book. So the woman “isn’t me” and the man is no one I’ve ever met.

  2. Very nice! Makes me think of our nights, long ago at the anderson loung. I really miss the nice ones somtimes. who are the cuple in your story?

    1. The couple in the story aren’t anyone imparticular, but I did have their characters in my head. Quinn is molded after Quinn in the Southern Vampire Series because his character is just so “manly and ideal” and Jen’s, well she’s molded after a person in a dream I had. In fact this whole story was a dream I had.

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