Mood Ring Ch. 01

I had finished my drink by then and decided that I would have one more, wait out the good doctors, and let them know that the evening was a wash. Obviously with student-teacher relationships, it would have been inappropriate for any of us to have had a direct mobile access to any of our instructors. We communicated by email. So as the only person that had bothered to show up for the evening, it was up to me to let them know that nobody else was going to arrive.

It had been a while since I had been out drinking and I realized after I ordered my second margarita that I was buzzing a bit. I attributed it to my empty stomach and recent complete teetotaler status from paying attention to studying and not to partying.

No worries. I would nurse the second and then assess myself before trying to drive home. After all, buzzed driving is drunk driving and no one takes that more seriously than myself after my brush with death! A taxi is so much cheaper in the long run.

I looked around to survey the crowd; just to people watch as I expected Dr. Beauchamp and Dr. Sherr to arrive precisely on time. It shouldn't be too long. I again noticed the statuesque blonde woman at the other end of the bar and looked at her critically: sizing up the competition if you will.

She was striking. Tall, her long, flowing hair descended to the middle of her back. God, her hair looked like shampoo commercial hair! She was dressed in a crème-colored pantsuit that looked like it had to have cost $500 at the least. And she had a pair of "to-die-for" matching mid heel pumps that were totally appropriate considering how tall she was. She appeared to be slender, but from this angle, the suit concealed her figure a little bit. Holy crap she was a freaking amazon!

I half expected the frat boys to be making a nuisance of themselves around her as they were seated so closely, but they were oddly enough ignoring her. She was on the far side of the bar and angled away so I only had the rear-quarter view. She seemed familiar, but I did not know anyone that looked like a supermodel.

I turned back to my section of the bar stared at my drink and contemplated the evening as my finger traced a small design in the condensation on the bar's dark wood. On reflection, I was proud of myself for going out because for so long I had made excuses to stay at home and away from people.

OK so the evening was a complete wash and being at this bar by myself totally sucked. Still it was nice to dress up and go out. I realized that I wanted to stay out; just I was a bit timid to go anywhere else by myself. A girl should be careful about looking good and going places alone.

As I was staring into my pale green potion, a magical elixir except for the banal straw sticking out of it, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Perplexed, I turned in my seat and immediately my nose was assaulted by the smell of too much beer and too much "Axe" aftershave.

"Well here I am. What are your other two wishes?"

A guy of average height with short, brown, gelled and spiked hair, wearing tan Dockers and a striped polo shirt with the collar popped was standing too close to me and was apparently expecting an answer. It was one of the college-aged guys. He wasn't bad looking and if he hadn't been way younger than me and obviously pickled, I would have at least entertained a conversation. But I am often dealing with drunks in the ER and they are so tedious when you are the only sober one in the equation. (OK, I admit that by this time I was feeling the margaritas, but I was far from wasted and far from desperate for attention.) Besides, I truly hate pick-up lines. "Hi, my name is ..." generally works for me because it doesn't smack of "I am so fucking clever because I memorized a line from the internet to impress you." But, I am not a rude girl and hey, someone was at least "attracted" enough to approach to me.

I simply deflected. "Hi, I'm sorry, I am just here to meet a friend and not interested in meeting anyone new tonight."

He said, "Hey Baabe, I could be your someone new"

Obviously, the beer was filtering this guy's hearing.

"Yes well, I said I am NOT interested in meeting anyone new tonight! But thanks anyway."

He said, "Well, maybe not tonight ... How about tomorrow in the morning when we wake up in bed sober and can actually remember meeting each other?"

OK, that was just rude and I could feel my Irish temper ignite!

"Not tonight, not tomorrow morning, or ever! Please leave me alone!"

He asked, "What are you lesbo or something?"

"!"

Seriously?

I stood up and just stared down at him until he left. I have done a lot with just a look in the ER and I turned the full force of my powers on him. It worked through his alcohol haze and as he was walking off I heard him mumble, "Why are all the tall hot girls, lesbians in here?'

Whatever. This is the South and I am sure that most of the "hot" girls are not lesbian, but maybe it helped him salvage his ego. I mean why go for the obvious conclusion that smelling like beer and being rude isn't irresistible.

My ire was up and I looked down at my mood pendant and noticed that it was no longer black, but had taken on an amber hue; so much for attaining a relaxed state.

I turned back around and sat down with a sigh, well, at least that was over with. Hopefully, he would lick his wounds privately and that would be that. I believe most guys are somewhat decent enough to take rejection; however, not everyone is evolved to that point that they will move on from disappointment.

It was about 15 minutes past the time that we were supposed to meet and I was finishing my margarita. I decided to wait for another 15 minutes and then call it a night. I was surprised that the doctors were late. Neither of them seemed to be ones who would arrive fashionably late for effect, but maybe. Who knows, I did not know them socially.

I ordered a water and was watching the Spanish newscaster on the bar TV and not understanding a word. I don't really speak any Spanish past the medically useful terms. But this newscaster was breathtaking. Her naturally curly blond hair cascaded to her shoulders and her body was rocking! I thought that if I knew anyone with her sexy look, and sexy accent, I wouldn't be sitting here alone waiting for my professors and getting hit on by drunk fratboys. We would be out somewhere partying it up!

As if on cue, I heard a male voice say "Excuse me."

Dammit.

"Hi, my name is Jake and I think I lost my number. Can I have yours?"

I said, "Look Jake, I appreciate the attention (lie) but I am really not interested in meeting you or either of your friends. Please I am just waiting for my lady friend so just leave me alone. OK?

At least this one didn't accuse me of preferring women to him. He just said sorry for bothering me and turned around and walked back to his end of the bar. I really did not want to encourage them so I refused to look in that direction.

Another tap on my shoulder. OK, now I was pissed!

I almost shouted "What does it take..." as I stood, turned, and stopped speechless, momentarily stunned.

Ms. Supermodel herself was standing right there looking at me with a bemused expression on her face.

I was stunned because I realized it was Dr. Supermodel!

She spoke in a low sultry voice; like Lauren Bacall, but with a French accent.

"I just had to come down here and see who was working the young men into such a frenzy. I should have known you would be involved somehow!

Lynne. You look absolutely ravishing." And as she took both of my hands in hers, she leaned in and gave me a kiss on each cheek in the European fashion.

"...and you smell divine!" she exclaimed.

She leaned in again; as if to sniff me? I felt her warm breath on my ear as she whispered, "C'est pour le bénéfice de ceux qui nous regardent. S'il vous plaît jouer en même temps."

My French was a bit rusty, the sensation of her breath on my ear made me tingly and I was processing that I was to play along as she dropped her hands to my hips and withdrew just enough to duck her head back, gently pull my body against hers and catch me with a full on kiss.

Zoinks!

Admittedly I was a little bit drunk from my margaritas and it had been forever since I have been remotely intimate with anyone. But my senses were suddenly flooded with HER.

Her scent was a woody smoky fragrance like incense; not overpowering, but very noticeable. Her lips were soft and warm. Although it was just a chaste closed-mouth kiss, my knees actually got a bit weak. (Ok, I had always thought that was just an expression, but mine actually did).

When she let go of my hands and pulled me to her it had startled me and trapped my arms in a slightly upraised fending position. However as her kiss slightly drained me of strength, I relaxed and let my hands settle against her, coming to a rest on her upper chest at the nestle of her collarbone. I was totally supported in her embrace.

As my body molded into hers, I noticed several things at once.

She was taller than me. The fabric of her suit felt wonderful. It was perfectly tailored to her body. She was firm and strong. It was very nice to be in someone's arms and to be kissed. I felt perfectly tailored to her body!

I know that it only lasted but for very few seconds, but I lost a little time and myself for a second. My eyes had closed and as she drew back and ended the kiss, I followed just a bit and I heard a small sound, a verbal moue escape from me.

Oops, yeah, I was supposed to be just playing along. (That's the ticket.)

"Tu ês parfaite!"

I opened my eyes and looked directly into hers. They were blue, crystal clear, and shining with what I could only suppose was amusement. I reflexively moistened my lips with my tongue and tasted her lipstick. I could tell it was an expensive cosmetic. Her hair glowed up close and smelled lovely. It looked like spun gold and gave her a diffuse halo in my visual field. Her natural skin looked as soft as velvet and she had minimal black eye-liner, long lush lashes with a blended taupe and obsidian eye shadow that accented her cornsilk-blue eyes. Her lips were a wine-red color that delineated the Venus bow of her full lips.

In the background from the other side of the bar, I heard faintly the sound of cheering as if someone had scored in some sports competition.

I realized that I had been just about to grab her collar and French her with my tongue and felt my face start to burn. In fact I realized that I had tightened my grip onto her jacket lapels; I quickly relaxed my hands and attempted to smooth the fabric until I realized I was almost stroking her breasts.

"Tu rougis et c'est adorable!"

No need to translate that in my head.

Oh man, I was so embarrassed.

She was perfectly behaved though and ignored my obvious discomfiture without teasing me.

"I did not recognize you right away until the boys started to misbehave and to start harassing you. I decided that whoever you were, I would put an end to their harassment one way or another!"

She reached up with her hand and touched my hair, grasped a few of the longer strands in her strong but delicate looking fingers before letting them go, saying, "I love your haircut."

Dr. Sherr was on call and let me know he had an emergency come up. Where is everyone?

...

Why aren't you saying anything?"

Then her eyes widened and I thought I detected a hint of color come to her cheeks.

"Vous parlez en français; non?" as she stepped back out of our embrace and placed a well-manicured hand on my arm.

I realized that I had simply been gazing into her eyes without saying a word. Her French accent was entrancing and I was a little bit thunderstruck and caught like a deer in the headlights by my almost getting busted.

Her movement and touch served to break the spell and I stammered a reply.

"Bien sûr ...eh, mais il a été longtemps depuis que j'ai pris un cours de langue en français. Je suis hors de la pratique."

She laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that I found endearing.

"Bien, peut-être je vous aurais donné plus d'avertissement avant que je t'ai embrassé?"

I replied, "Eh oui, vous me placé hors d'équilibre." and laughed myself as I realized my unintended pun. Next to her mature throaty chuckle, my laugh sounded like a giggle or little girl's tinkle. (My voice has always been my bane! I still sound like a child and talking in a foreign language for some reason made it worse.) Thankfully we steered away from the subject and dropped the need to converse in a language presumably no one else could easily understand.

She took the stool next to mine and I noticed underneath her crème jacket she was wearing an earth-tone floral print silk blouse or lacy camisole. I couldn't tell with her jacket buttoned, but the fine material looked almost sheer and showed a hint of tanned cleavage hidden only by some exquisite lace.

I told her, "I saw you standing over there, but I didn't recognize you. Your hair is beautiful!" I realized that this was the first time that I had seen her when she had let her hair down so to speak. She always had it in a bun for work. She always wore glasses too.

She replied as she dragged her fingers through her long hair," Well, I find that people do not take me seriously at work with flowing golden locks." (Again with the throaty chuckle!) "But seriously, it has proven advantageous to maintain a separate professional work appearance and glamorous social life. Hardly anyone recognizes me when I don't do my hair up to be honest. So do not be embarrassed that you didn't recognize me at first glance.

And I did not recognize you since you cut your hair. It looks adorable. Have you been here long?"

I stared right into her eyes and said "I feel like I have been waiting for you forever."

What. The. Hell! Where did that come from? I had to cover even though I knew my face was totally giving me away.

I stammered quickly "I... I mean I know you noticed the attention I was being given by the rowdy boys at your end of the bar?"

She stated, "Of course, which is why I came down here. I heard them plotting to try to seduce you or as you Americans say 'Pick up?' And I thought it unfair for them to try to play games with the young lady at other end of the bar. The first two guys were supposed to annoy you and the last would come and apologize and try to be a 'nice guy who was embarrassed by his uncouth friends.' So, I decided that before I left, I would spoil their plans as they had already been very rude to me. Little did I know that I would be saving you, ma Cherie!"

At this point we were interrupted by the bartender who placed two frozen margaritas down in front of us and said, "Compliments of the gentleman."

I looked at Dr. Beauchamp and she looked back at me at which point we heard "Ladies, I just want to apologize for my friends' behavior. Please accept these drinks as a peace offering." She skewed her perfectly formed tawny colored eyebrow at me and we both turned slightly to be confronted by the remaining guy of the trio.

Superman was standing beside us. He had perfect black hair, a decent tan, and I swear a twinkle in his eye. When he smiled, his white teeth sparkled and I couldn't help but return a smile even though I knew his game and was mildly irritated by his interruption.

"Hi, my name is John."

He extended his hand first to Dr. Beauchamp and then to me. He had warm skin and a firm grip and he slightly turned my hand over so his was dominant as we shook and held it for just a fraction longer than was comfortable.

Dr. Beauchamp said "Thank you for the drinks; we'll accept them in the spirit in which they are offered."

He looked at her oblivious to the hidden cut and I suppressed a smile because she was telling me that this was part of his "plan."

Dr. Beauchamp raised her glass and said "I propose a toast!"

I raised mine and she said. "Pour une soirée pour seulement nous, les filles sans interruption par des hommes qui sont des abrutis complets quand ils sont ivres et peut-être même pire quand sobre!"

"Salut! I can drink to that!" I clinked her glass while looking directly in her eyes.

Prince Charming chimed in with "I don't know what you said but I like the way you said it! I love your accent! Where are you from?" I was looking at Dr. Beauchamp as we faced each other trying to send her a telepathic message of "We have got to get out of this!" When I realized that he was talking to me.

My accent?

I do have a mild southern accent. Most people tell me it sounds sweet, but in direct comparison to my companion's sexy French accent, it sounds quite common.

"I'm from Southern Georgia."

In my confusion, I started to square my body towards him when Dr. Beauchamp spoke up.

"Look John, we appreciate the peace gesture to make up for your boorishness and your friends' persistence, but my girlfriend and I were only meeting up here and we are just about to leave. So, I do not want to be rude, but as soon as we finish these drinks we are going to be on our way. It was an experience meeting you. Again thanks."

This was a clear dismissal.

I guess her strong feminine assertiveness must have triggered John's alpha side because he got nasty.

"So, I guess you are the guy of the relationship?" He then turned to his buddies and yelled, "You were right guys, they are both dykes!"

He turned back to us and said, "Hey ladies, I love lesbians. We could have a three-way. I get that you don't like men, but I could just stand in the corner and watch. I'll do my thing while you do your thing. You won't even know I am there!"

I saw red and I guess I started to take a step towards him because next thing I know Dr. Beauchamp placed her hand on me where my shoulder met my chest, gently restraining me with just her touch.

I had a fist clenched: I think I was going to punch him.

She looked me in the eye to say "I got this." and was on the verge of saying something when the bartender jumped in.

"OK! That is enough!" he pointed his finger at John and swept his arm towards the door, "Settle up your tab and leave, I will not have you harassing my customers anymore. You've crossed the line and I want you out of here!"

I noticed several members of the male staff had subtly edged closer to us; most likely about the same time as John. He signaled his buddies and they threw some cash onto the bar, glared at us and left.

The bartender said, "Hello ladies, my apologies. My name is Mike. Please allow me to make this up to you. What will you have? He removed John's "peace offerings" and set up three shots of tequila and was in the process of cutting up some limes.

Shit! I was already a little bit tipsy and flushed and feeling my first two drinks plus a quarter of the third: now we were going to do shots!

But since Mike had mitigated our problem, I concluded it would be rude to refuse.

My manners were going to get me in trouble sometime!

We introduced ourselves, raised our glasses and Mike said, "To new relationships, friendship and love." Oh these gallant Hispanic guys!

I clinked his glass, looked Dr. Beauchamp in the eyes and winked. I saw her eyes crinkle when she smiled and after touching our glasses, we both threw the drinks down. Wow, this had to have been good tequila because it was so damn smooth. But I could still feel the warm trail of the liquid as it made its way down my throat and I reached for the lime and bit it.

All of a sudden I noticed the glass of margarita in front of me and I stared at it.

This just wasn't fair!

I looked over at Dr. Beauchamp to signal "What do I do?" when I realized she was conversing with our bartender in Spanish. I do not speak any more than some medical phrases and I had no clue what their conversation was about so I just waited for it to end.