The Cottonmouth Lounge

Summer in South Florida is its own kind of hell and that particular summer made me feel like I was paying for sins I had yet to commit.

The bar I worked at was tucked away off the tourists' beaten path. For them, the obnoxiousness, the pretentious affectations and the vapid Kardashian existence of the $800 bottles at the Miami Beach clubs. For us, the locals that knew better, there was the tank tops and cut-off jeans attitude of The Cottonmouth Lounge. We didn't have a dress code; we just hoped our patrons would remember to wear something.

That late afternoon was slow. The early crowd had already dropped by on their way to Key West and grumbling clouds were draping themselves around the sky above the bar. The ceiling fans futilely pushed at the stubborn, thick air, getting nowhere. I pulled myself a beer and stood in the doorway, watching the first fat drops come down, listening to the staccato pop on the roof. I leaned against the doorframe, happy to just be existing at this point in time. Yeah, a few more laugh lines (not wrinkles), a couple more gray hairs shooting their way through the black strands, but hey, that's all right. I made it to 45; lots of people had bet against that happening. Not too bad a body either. As long as you worked out, you could indulge in the ever-present Cuban food in this town.

I watched the sun feebly fight its way through the gloomy clouds; his day was almost done, so he didn't battle all that hard. As I turned to go in, a familiar buzzing sound crept into my ears. I'd worked at this place long enough to know the sexy growl of an approaching motorcycle. I waited as the sound grew louder and watched, scant minutes later, as a beautiful Heritage soft tail turned off the paved highway and made its way over the gravel. It came to a stop under the carport that had been set up as covered parking for the bikes.

The rider wore your standard black boots, jeans and jacket. However, when the helmet came off and the hair came tumbling out, it was more than evident that this was no tough biker dude.

She hurried towards the doorway before the serious downpour started, flashing me a smile as she passed.

"Great timing", I commented as she settled in at the empty counter and I slipped back behind the bar.

"Yeah, I raced those clouds the whole way here," she laughed, her honey-colored eyes dancing. "There's no way I'm making it to Key West tonight; it's going to get bad out there."

She took off her jacket and draped it over the back of her stool, revealing a white tank top and a swish of colorful shooting stars on her right shoulder.

"Nice work. Can I get you anything?" I asked, reaching automatically for a beer glass.

"Thanks, just got it done last week. Actually, no beer." She laughed out loud again as my hand hovered over the glasses and then dropped on one, drumming my fingers on it.

I laughed back, trying to gauge her order. Some people are obvious beer drinkers, others enjoy only whiskey. She was a tough one to call.

There was nothing about her that made me think that she spent any amount of time frequenting bars like The Cottonmouth. The tattoo and the bike seemed incongruous; despite the fact that she maneuvered it like a pro, she still wasn't the type you'd expect on one of those machines.

Her hair, now that it was fluffed out a bit, was perfectly cut, allowing her brown curls to cascade down her back in a thick mass. Her nails had recently received attention because the French manicure on them was intact. Her makeup, though minimal, had been flawlessly applied and the eyeliner especially had had special consideration. It really did bring out the shine in those eyes.

I suddenly felt self-conscious in my cut-off shorts, sneakers and Cottonmouth Lounge t-shirt. I was pretty sure my make-up was a distant memory thanks to the humidity in the bar. A glance at my own nails reminded me I was way overdue in seeing my own manicurist. I did not even want to think about my hair; the curls did not react well to the damp, thick air. I could possibly pass for an electrocuted poodle at this time of day.

She looked like she belonged in the back of a limo and I looked...well, like I belonged where I was, rag in hand, feet in a beer puddle.

"You know," she said, snapping me out of my ruminations, "how about a Palm Breeze? A little tropical pick-me-up due to the lovely weather."

"No problem. Want a splash of grenadine in that?" I inquired as I reached for the Malibu rum.

"Sure."

I mixed up the rum, orange and pineapple juices and splashed the grenadine. She smiled as I slid it over to her after I dropped in a cherry. No little umbrella or tiny plastic drink swords; this is the Cottonmouth. You were lucky the glasses were clean.

She hesitated before the first sip and looked over at me.

"Join me? Not a fan of drinking alone."

"Oh, why not? No one's going to be coming out tonight anyway," I replied, mixing up my own Breeze.

"Cheers," she touched her glass to mine.

"Salud," I responded, taking a sip of the fruity concoction. It went down deliciously cold, soothing on such a sticky day.

"I can't believe I finally got to this place. Everyone is always talking about it," she said, after her first drink.

"Yeah, we've been here a while. Popular with the bikers and the muscle car crowd."

"I can see why. It's got a nice chill vibe to it. I'm Stevie, by the way," she extended her hand towards me and I automatically shook it, hoping my hand wasn't too wet from when I washed it after making the drinks.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Amara, but just call me Amy."

"Amara? That's interesting. Really pretty."

"Thanks. I like Stevie. Makes me think of Fleetwood Mac."

She laughed. "Makes everyone think of Fleetwood Mac."

The conversation kept going as the storm picked up. We covered movies, the sad state of current music, how amazing our music was, stuff we liked to read and everything in between. She told me she was an architect at a firm with a prestigious address in the downtown area. She loved her job, but hated the stuffiness of the office environment. Hence, her little escapes on her bike on the weekends. She was two years out of her last serious relationship and was just enjoying life as it came. I told her I ran the bar for the older couple that owned it and that once they passed on, the bar would become mine. She asked me about my past romantic relationships, but I skittered around enough for her to let it go. By the time we were on our fourth drinks, there was a bona fide down pour going on.

"Well, you sure ain't riding that bike to the Keys tonight," I commented as a particularly nasty crack of thunder resounded.

"You got that right. Is there any hotel nearby that I could stay at? I had packed for the trip, so I'm okay as far as clean clothes are concerned."

"Actually, my apartment is about two miles down the road. You can leave your bike here or follow me down if you want. My car's out back."

"I think I can handle two miles, but I don't wanna put you out or anything."

"It's no big thing. I didn't have any plans tonight other than to just curl up with a movie."

"Then it's cool with me if it's cool with you."

She waited as I got my purse and locked up the bar. She ran to her bike as I sprinted to my car; you don't wait for a break in a downpour in Florida as you simply don't get one.

I started up my Jeep and headed down the road, keeping her in my rearview to make sure she was alright. Minutes later, we pulled into my tiny apartment complex. I loved that I had found this little hidden gem. It was covered with native plants and flowers and you couldn't really see it from the road. I had a bottom unit towards the back and she followed me slowly down the private drive. Each unit had two parking spaces allotted, so she slid the bike into the space next to mine.

We ran onto my small porch and I quickly pulled open the screen door and unlocked the front door. I flipped the lights as I came in, enjoying the warm glow that my ceiling lamp shed over my cozy living room. Everything about the apartment was cozy, from the kitchen to my bedroom. I had done everything up in blues and greens with touches of Florida kitsch. Stevie actually giggled at the flamingo salt and pepper shakers on my retro 60s dining table.

"This place is adorable," she said, looking around for a place to put her jacket. I motioned towards the back of one of the chairs at the dining table and she draped it there.

"Thanks. I love my Florida throw-back stuff. Hey, I only have one bathroom, so if you want to go ahead and shower, go for it. I can put a pizza in the oven with some garlic bread if you'd like."

"Yeah, a shower sounds great and I'm fine with the pizza."

I showed her to the bathroom, handed her some fresh towels and closed the door as I left. I headed back to the kitchen and started what would pass for dinner. I also rummaged around in my small liquor cabinet to see what could be had. I located an absolutely divine bottle of cabernet sauvignon and placed it on the counter, planning to open it after I took my own shower.

I listened as the water ran and thought how long it had been since someone besides me had used that shower. Since I had side-stepped Stevie's questions about previous romantic relationships, she had no way of knowing that my last relationship had been with another girl.

Lynn had been my first and only girlfriend; up until her, I had only dated men. She had blown into the bar one day, all sexiness and attitude, and we had just hit it off. I had been smitten with the blonde hair and the blue eyes as many before me had. She had moved in after a few months and we stayed together for almost three years. But, as a far wiser person than I am once said, nothing gold can stay. Lynn got antsy with our routine; we had partied at the bar and with friends extensively at the beginning, but we couldn't keep that lifestyle up. I couldn't keep up with her drinking and still manage the bar. She wasn't working at the time, so we were living strictly on my income. The arguments began escalating and one night, it was obvious we had both had enough. She packed up, told me that I had gotten too old for her and simply left. I found out later through mutual friends that she had moved to Key Largo and worked for a fishing charter company. She was also dating one of the captains. I had heard through the grapevine that Lynn's new girl was as hot as she was. One of the guys I knew called them a porn movie waiting to be filmed. You can imagine how overjoyed I was at that description.

While I had certainly been hurt at being told I had gotten too old for her (she was only three years younger), the worse part was that I believed her for a while. Those were dark days, indeed.

Time, however, has a way of helping me out and I slowly came back to life. I started joking around at work again, enjoying going out with friends and even going on the occasional date. I wasn't looking for anything serious and I had never really been into casual sex, so my life had been on cruise control for a while.

I was jarred out of my reverie at the sound of her coming down the hallway. She had put on a loose fitting t-shirt and some sleep pants. Her hair was damp from the shower and I could smell my body wash. Lynn used to use mine all the time, so I went through another flashback moment.

"Hope you don't mind, I just had to use that body wash. It smelled so freakin' good, you know?" she laughed, holding out the wet towels.

"No worries," I replied, taking the towels into the small laundry room past the kitchen. "I love Bath and Body Works' stuff."

"So what can I help with?" she asked, walking over to me. I showed her the wine, told her to open it and that the pizza should be ready by the time I finished my own shower. As I walked to my bedroom to get my own change of clothes, I heard the cork come out of the bottle.

I let the warm water course over me, leaving my eyes half closed. I am very much a water girl; a shower after a sticky day at the bar was heavenly and the smell of the eucalyptus body wash just eased all the stress away.

I was toweling off when she knocked at the door, letting me know the pizza and the bread was ready. I finished slipping into my own lounge pants and shirt and when I got to the kitchen, she had set out plates and had poured the wine.

"Hey, that's awesome! Thanks for setting the table."

"Oh, please. It's the least I can do, considering you're putting me up for the night."

The pizza was actually really good and the wine made it taste even better. By the time dinner was through, we had opened another bottle. We cleaned up and headed to the living room to find a movie.

She settled into the love seat as I stretched out on the couch. I started randomly flipping through channels until I heard her give a little squeal when I found "Interview with a Vampire." We started watching it and I felt another strange little pang; Lynn had also loved this movie. Stop it, I told myself. Lots of people like this movie. And you're only thinking of her because it's been so long that someone else has been in the apartment with you.

Stevie noticed our conversation had stopped rather abruptly and glanced my way.

"Is something wrong? We don't have to watch this if you don't want to."

"No, no, it's fine. It's just that...well...this movie just reminds me of someone is all."

She was quiet for a minute. "Sorry. I'm guessing he's the one you didn't want to talk about back at that bar."

I took a deep breath. "Make that a 'her' and you have it right."

A longer pause from her.

"I didn't mean to freak you out," I continued. "I just hadn't thought about her in a while and between the body wash and the movie..." I trailed off, realizing I sounded like a complete mental patient.

"No, I understand," she replied quickly. "I just...I didn't figure you for..."

"Trust me, neither did I. I had been with guys strictly before I met Lynn. We just...I don't know...we fit for a while. And then we didn't. Simple as that."

"Doesn't sound simple. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, being as how I just met you a few hours ago, but I like you. I like thinking I've made a new, good friend. I haven't had that happen in a long time."

"I appreciate that and it's really okay. I hadn't thought about her for a while, but like I said, between the movie and smelling the body wash on someone other than me, it just kinda shocked me. She is so far off my radar these days. Anyway, don't worry about it another minute. We can keep watching this or we can..."

"I want to talk."

Her answer was so quick and abrupt, she startled me into silence. Before I could say another word, she certainly did start talking. It was more like a verbal avalanche than a conversation.

"I've only known you for such a short time, but I can't tell you how much I appreciate your honesty and how amazing you were about letting me, a total stranger, come and spend the night at your place. I can't have a single, meaningful conversation with any of the other women at my firm because the only thought in their heads is how they're going to blow their paycheck by the weekend at the trendiest club they can get into. And that goes for women my age as well, not just the younger ones. The twenty-somethings I can understand; I used to do the same thing. But the ones my age are a different story. Something pathetic about a forty-three year old coming to work, bragging about how drunk she got over the weekend down at the beach because her ex had the kids that weekend. My friends all have families or have moved out of town; I've been pretty much on my own since Jason and I broke up. I had a helluva week with deadlines and projects running over budget and I just wanted to get on that bike and ride. Just ride and forget everything. I booked a room, I gassed up and then I get caught in the rain at your bar. And the next thing I know, I'm here, in your living room, spilling my guts. I didn't even realize how lonely I'd been until right this moment. I've had more fun just talking with you these past hours then I've had in months. And I hope you don't mind me saying this, but Lynn is a total idiot. You're real and warm and open and so caring. If I had you in my life the way she did, I would never let you go. Ever."

The torrent of words came to an end and I sat up, staring at her. She looked me in the eyes, blushed, and looked away. I don't think either of us breathed for a minute or so. I mean, what do you say at a time like that? I'm certainly no expert. My silence must have unnerved her; she stood up and mumbled something about going.

There was no way I was going to let that happen.

The next thing I knew, I had my arms around her, holding her as tightly as she was holding me.

"Please don't leave," I whispered into her hair.

"I don't want to," she whispered back.

The lightning flashed outside, illuminating her beautiful face. I felt my breath catch in my throat as she leaned in to brush her lips on mine. I could feel them trembling. I knew she was nervous; I think we both were.

She got more comfortable with the kiss, slowly intensifying it. Her lips felt amazingly soft; it had been far too long between kisses for me, so I was going to enjoy this moment for as long as it lasted.

She slipped her tongue shyly past my lips; I responded with light touch of my own tongue. She got bolder, building up the momentum. I followed her lead, not wanting to frighten her off.

She broke the kiss off and we did the requisite "stare into each other's eyes" thing; a small smile began in the corner of her mouth and slowly made its way across her lips. I returned the smile as her fingers entwined with mine.

"Let's go to your room," she said, squeezing my hand.

"Are you sure?"

"Sweetie, I'm too old to play coy. This may be my first time with a woman, but it's not my first time. I know what I want. And it's you."

Her forthrightness caused my eyebrows to shoot up and my smile to widen.

"Well, then. Who am I to argue?" I said playfully, pulling her down the hall.

We pushed into the bedroom, lips still locked on each others. Her hands slid into the sides my loose pajama pants, traveling over my hips and on to my butt. She pulled me closer to her and didn't flinch when I started tugging off her top. Encouraged, I brazenly swept it off, attempting to dramatically toss it into the corner of my room. Instead, my hand got tangled in it and I ended up having to pull it off with my other hand, completely ruining the moment.

Laughing, she said, "Is this what you were trying to do?" and proceeded to pull my shirt off in one fell swoop. To add insult to injury, she easily sent it fluttering to the floor.

"Damn it," I growled, as my lips found her neck. "Are you going to show off all night?"

A small gasp escaped her lips as I bit down gently. "Not at all. I'm going to let you be the show off. In fact..", a small moan as my lips trailed down towards her breasts, "I'm looking forward to what you can do."

"I'll try not to disappoint," I whispered as my tongue circled her nipple. Seconds later, I slipped that tantalizing little bud into my mouth, giving it a nip as I did. A long, pleasurable sigh was my reward and I greedily pulled more of her into my mouth.

I eased her on to the bed, never letting up on her nipple. My hands slid down her sides and tugged at the waistband until she lifted her ass and let me slip the pants off her. I continued nibbling and tugging at her breasts as my hand slid between her legs, causing her to gasp out loud. My fingers easily found her aroused clit and I lightly rubbed my thumb over it, amazed at how wet she was becoming.

Her moans and whispers started coming quicker now, encouraging me to start traveling south. I slid my hands down her sides, kissing my way down her tummy. Occasional flicks of the tongue drew heated hisses from her. Her fingers were curled around the sheets, starting to tug.