"I'm Not Her" by A. Craig Newman © 2012
Writer's Notes:
This was the first story I wrote under this challenge. I won't say much about it except that I feel bad for Duke. Considering where he starts the story and how it ends, I think he gets kinda shafted. And, without revealing the motivations I can say the motivations were very "gender reversed". Can't say much more without giving it all away and I don't wanna do that. Enjoy! -ACN
This was the first story I wrote under this challenge. I won't say much about it except that I feel bad for Duke. Considering where he starts the story and how it ends, I think he gets kinda shafted. And, without revealing the motivations I can say the motivations were very "gender reversed". Can't say much more without giving it all away and I don't wanna do that. Enjoy! -ACN
"Are you swimming or drowning?"
Duke looked up from his beer when he realized the question was being posed to him. The bar was smoky and dimly lit, but he had a clear view of the speaker. She was a slender, modestly built brunette with painted-on jeans and a cowboy hat.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to wipe his frown off with his hands. "'Scuse me?"
"I said, 'Are you swimming or drowning?' In your beer, honey. You looked like you were floating in it somehow, I just couldn't tell if you're staying on top or going down."
Duke looked back at his longneck. "I'm staying on top, I guess. Swimmin' along," he said through slightly slurred words.
She smiled and put her hand on the empty chair at his table. "You mind if I sit here?"
He buried his face in a hand. "I'd rather just-"
"Every other seat is taken, I've been standing and dancing all night, and I'm just plumb tired. Now, can I sit here please?"
He looked around and saw just how packed the bar had become since he arrived earlier in the evening. He raised a hand, both conceding defeat and welcoming her to his table. She sat and smiled, a gesture lost on him since he had already gone back to floating in his beer.
Time, music, smoke, conversation, and people passed Duke as he drifted along. Nothing bumped his smooth travel until the river ran dry. At some point, he realized he was staring at an empty bottle. He started to flag down a waitress when his tablemate slid a fresh one over to him. For the first time, he returned her smile.
"My name's -"
"Duke. I know." Duke extended a hand to shake, but she placed a cigarette in it instead. He looked at it strangely before looking at her again. "Pall Mall," she said, as she slid one out of the pack with her teeth. "That's your brand, right?" Duke's free hand dug out his Zippo and gave her a light, then lit his own.
"So, you got a name?"
"Susan. Just call me Sue," She said through a puff of smoke.
They sat in silence, sipping beers and smoking. This time, he was right there with her, present in body and mind. The house band covered the latest and most popular hits as a sea of Stetson hats, leather, and denim moved about the dance floor - sometimes in perfect lines and synchronized steps, sometimes in a counterclockwise swirl, each couple following their own leads. Tapping her foot along with the music, Sue let her gaze shift from Duke to the dance floor to the bar crowd and back to Duke. He watched her intently, and could not stop his look of surprise when she started turning down men who asked her to dance.
"You haven't been able to stop your feet from moving all night," he finally spoke. "You know you wanna dance. Why turn these boys down? What you waiting for?"
She laughed as she blew out a puff of smoke. "I'm waiting for you to ask me."
"Why me?"
"Why not you? Besides, I've seen you in here before. You're just about the best dancer, but you haven't danced at all tonight. You look a little gloomy. I figure I'd hang out in case you got the urge to shake some of those blues away."
He smiled big and sat up straight. "You two-step?"
"You askin?"
They left their beers and cigarettes and moved out to the dance floor. Stepping in perfect one (pause) two (pause) threefour time, they moved flawlessly about the swirling current of dancers. They started in the basic position, with him stepping forward and her stepping backward. As the songs wore on, these two experienced dancers turned and spun - sometimes wrapped in each other's arms, sometimes connected only by two steady hands. They switched positions, sides, and rhythm, but never lost a beat between them. As one song followed another, the cigarettes burned themselves out and the beers went flat at their unattended table. These two danced on, through two steps, waltzes, and slow sways. Especially through slow sways. Their three point connection – her right hand in his left, her left hand on his right shoulder, and his right hand on the small of her back – grew smaller and closer until their clasped hands were pinned between their shoulders, his right hand was around her waist, and her left hand found its way to the back of his neck
She lightly stroked the hairs on his neck and he squeezed her waist. Her chest and hips pressed against his as they moved to the music. When he breathed in the scent of her hair, she felt his breath on her ear. A shiver ran through her body and she turned her head and kissed him.
Duke drifted along the music, held afloat by the arms and lips of this dream who seemed to step out of the lyrics. These kissing dancers eventually abandoned the dance and retreated to some dark corner of the bar, enjoying each other more than the music. Staring into his partner's eyes, Duke was only barely cognizant of the time when the music stopped and the lights came up.
"I guess it's time to go."
"So, where are we going, cowboy?"
Sue's taste had barely faded from his lips before Duke found himself renewing the sensation under his sheets. There, with his stereo playing some of the same songs they had just danced to, they found their perfect partnership again. In him, she found lips trailing gentle kisses from her lips down her neck, over her breasts, and between her legs; hands and fingers tracing each sensitive curve; and ears that listened for the slightest moan, whimper, and gasp causing him to pause, repeat, or continue certain actions. His soft care and attention were balanced by her almost savage ways. She pounced and held him down against his only nominal protest; bit his neck, shoulders, and chest; licked from his lips down, tracing the same path on his body that he followed on hers. In this manner, the lover and the animal glided along the night's river until they rested on the day's shore and slept.
Jostling he felt through the bed caused Duke to open his eyes. The late morning sunshine through the windows revealed Sue pulling up her panties and looking around for her bra.
"Meigan?" he uttered, not fully awake yet.
"That's Sue, cowboy."
When he heard the correction, Duke fully opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. He winced.
"I'm sorry about that." He said, through a cringe.
"Don't be. I understand." She located her bra and started to slip it on.
He sat up and stretched and reached for his robe. "What do you want to eat? I'll start breakfast."
"Nothing for me, thanks. I'm just going to hit the road."
"Oh," he said, stopping in his tracks as she headed for the door. He watched her dumbly as she pulled on her top and started to button it. "When am I going to see you again?"
"The next time we bump into each other at the bar, I guess."
He watched her finish with her shirt and reach for her pants. "Why wait for that?"
She paused with her jeans in her hands and looked at him. "You're such a sweet guy. Much nicer than the guys I usually get. And I've seen you dance, so I figured you'd be great in bed. But, DAMN boy, you just about blew my mind last night." She let out a bit of a laugh and he smiled. "But I'd only make you miserable. Let's not try to turn this," she motioned towards the bed, "into something it's not, ok?"
She stepped into her pants and zipped up. She heard him inhale to speak and cut him off. "Because I'm not her. I'm not Meigan. I'm not that pretty thing you used to come into the bar with and two-step around the floor. You'd share your beer and your cigarettes and look at her like she was the only person in the world for you. Too bad she could never look back at you the same way and mean it."
Duke crossed the floor in two steps. He drew back a fist that could have landed her in the next county. What landed was a slap that knocked her into a nearby chair.
She grabbed her purse, holding it between her and him like a shield. "Maybe you're more like the guys I usually take home than I thought. But not enough to do that again. I didn't put you in that beer; I rescued you from it. I'm not her."
Duke stood and stared. He shook his head and pointed to the door of his studio apartment. "Get out."
She grabbed her boots and carried them towards the door. Once there, she turned. "She was an idiot to let you go, but I'd be a fool to try to keep you."
When she closed the door behind her, he cried.
Duke looked up from his beer when he realized the question was being posed to him. The bar was smoky and dimly lit, but he had a clear view of the speaker. She was a slender, modestly built brunette with painted-on jeans and a cowboy hat.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to wipe his frown off with his hands. "'Scuse me?"
"I said, 'Are you swimming or drowning?' In your beer, honey. You looked like you were floating in it somehow, I just couldn't tell if you're staying on top or going down."
Duke looked back at his longneck. "I'm staying on top, I guess. Swimmin' along," he said through slightly slurred words.
She smiled and put her hand on the empty chair at his table. "You mind if I sit here?"
He buried his face in a hand. "I'd rather just-"
"Every other seat is taken, I've been standing and dancing all night, and I'm just plumb tired. Now, can I sit here please?"
He looked around and saw just how packed the bar had become since he arrived earlier in the evening. He raised a hand, both conceding defeat and welcoming her to his table. She sat and smiled, a gesture lost on him since he had already gone back to floating in his beer.
Time, music, smoke, conversation, and people passed Duke as he drifted along. Nothing bumped his smooth travel until the river ran dry. At some point, he realized he was staring at an empty bottle. He started to flag down a waitress when his tablemate slid a fresh one over to him. For the first time, he returned her smile.
"My name's -"
"Duke. I know." Duke extended a hand to shake, but she placed a cigarette in it instead. He looked at it strangely before looking at her again. "Pall Mall," she said, as she slid one out of the pack with her teeth. "That's your brand, right?" Duke's free hand dug out his Zippo and gave her a light, then lit his own.
"So, you got a name?"
"Susan. Just call me Sue," She said through a puff of smoke.
They sat in silence, sipping beers and smoking. This time, he was right there with her, present in body and mind. The house band covered the latest and most popular hits as a sea of Stetson hats, leather, and denim moved about the dance floor - sometimes in perfect lines and synchronized steps, sometimes in a counterclockwise swirl, each couple following their own leads. Tapping her foot along with the music, Sue let her gaze shift from Duke to the dance floor to the bar crowd and back to Duke. He watched her intently, and could not stop his look of surprise when she started turning down men who asked her to dance.
"You haven't been able to stop your feet from moving all night," he finally spoke. "You know you wanna dance. Why turn these boys down? What you waiting for?"
She laughed as she blew out a puff of smoke. "I'm waiting for you to ask me."
"Why me?"
"Why not you? Besides, I've seen you in here before. You're just about the best dancer, but you haven't danced at all tonight. You look a little gloomy. I figure I'd hang out in case you got the urge to shake some of those blues away."
He smiled big and sat up straight. "You two-step?"
"You askin?"
They left their beers and cigarettes and moved out to the dance floor. Stepping in perfect one (pause) two (pause) threefour time, they moved flawlessly about the swirling current of dancers. They started in the basic position, with him stepping forward and her stepping backward. As the songs wore on, these two experienced dancers turned and spun - sometimes wrapped in each other's arms, sometimes connected only by two steady hands. They switched positions, sides, and rhythm, but never lost a beat between them. As one song followed another, the cigarettes burned themselves out and the beers went flat at their unattended table. These two danced on, through two steps, waltzes, and slow sways. Especially through slow sways. Their three point connection – her right hand in his left, her left hand on his right shoulder, and his right hand on the small of her back – grew smaller and closer until their clasped hands were pinned between their shoulders, his right hand was around her waist, and her left hand found its way to the back of his neck
She lightly stroked the hairs on his neck and he squeezed her waist. Her chest and hips pressed against his as they moved to the music. When he breathed in the scent of her hair, she felt his breath on her ear. A shiver ran through her body and she turned her head and kissed him.
Duke drifted along the music, held afloat by the arms and lips of this dream who seemed to step out of the lyrics. These kissing dancers eventually abandoned the dance and retreated to some dark corner of the bar, enjoying each other more than the music. Staring into his partner's eyes, Duke was only barely cognizant of the time when the music stopped and the lights came up.
"I guess it's time to go."
"So, where are we going, cowboy?"
Sue's taste had barely faded from his lips before Duke found himself renewing the sensation under his sheets. There, with his stereo playing some of the same songs they had just danced to, they found their perfect partnership again. In him, she found lips trailing gentle kisses from her lips down her neck, over her breasts, and between her legs; hands and fingers tracing each sensitive curve; and ears that listened for the slightest moan, whimper, and gasp causing him to pause, repeat, or continue certain actions. His soft care and attention were balanced by her almost savage ways. She pounced and held him down against his only nominal protest; bit his neck, shoulders, and chest; licked from his lips down, tracing the same path on his body that he followed on hers. In this manner, the lover and the animal glided along the night's river until they rested on the day's shore and slept.
Jostling he felt through the bed caused Duke to open his eyes. The late morning sunshine through the windows revealed Sue pulling up her panties and looking around for her bra.
"Meigan?" he uttered, not fully awake yet.
"That's Sue, cowboy."
When he heard the correction, Duke fully opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. He winced.
"I'm sorry about that." He said, through a cringe.
"Don't be. I understand." She located her bra and started to slip it on.
He sat up and stretched and reached for his robe. "What do you want to eat? I'll start breakfast."
"Nothing for me, thanks. I'm just going to hit the road."
"Oh," he said, stopping in his tracks as she headed for the door. He watched her dumbly as she pulled on her top and started to button it. "When am I going to see you again?"
"The next time we bump into each other at the bar, I guess."
He watched her finish with her shirt and reach for her pants. "Why wait for that?"
She paused with her jeans in her hands and looked at him. "You're such a sweet guy. Much nicer than the guys I usually get. And I've seen you dance, so I figured you'd be great in bed. But, DAMN boy, you just about blew my mind last night." She let out a bit of a laugh and he smiled. "But I'd only make you miserable. Let's not try to turn this," she motioned towards the bed, "into something it's not, ok?"
She stepped into her pants and zipped up. She heard him inhale to speak and cut him off. "Because I'm not her. I'm not Meigan. I'm not that pretty thing you used to come into the bar with and two-step around the floor. You'd share your beer and your cigarettes and look at her like she was the only person in the world for you. Too bad she could never look back at you the same way and mean it."
Duke crossed the floor in two steps. He drew back a fist that could have landed her in the next county. What landed was a slap that knocked her into a nearby chair.
She grabbed her purse, holding it between her and him like a shield. "Maybe you're more like the guys I usually take home than I thought. But not enough to do that again. I didn't put you in that beer; I rescued you from it. I'm not her."
Duke stood and stared. He shook his head and pointed to the door of his studio apartment. "Get out."
She grabbed her boots and carried them towards the door. Once there, she turned. "She was an idiot to let you go, but I'd be a fool to try to keep you."
When she closed the door behind her, he cried.
