It was early Thursday evening and Rocco’s was beginning to twitch.
I was at the bar warming up for the night. The first shot of brandy cut my throat like a hatchet so I ordered another along with a Blatz draft to keep it company.
After awhile, Hap came over and put down another Blatz. “That beer looks as flat as my little sister.”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“I know but I did know that chick’s sister one night,” he said, pointing to a shapely blond sitting at the far end of the bar. “I banged her like a loose screen door in a hurricane. Want me to send her your way? I think she’s desperate.”
I looked in her direction and caught her eye. She smiled and I smiled back. I turned to Hap and said, “Why not? There’s nothing like a girl with a plunging neckline to perk up a man’s spirits.”
I was still sipping brandy when she sat down next to me. I noticed she was drinking manhattans.
Hap walked over and placed two manhattans in front of us. I guess I was drinking them too.
“On the house,” he said, and walked away.
She was a two o’clock beauty queen and, it was only ten o’clock. She was an English teacher from Wauwatosa High School. We hit it off immediately.
I told her, if I can make a lady laugh, I can get her in bed. She giggled so I knew I was using the right bait.
I convinced her it would be a thrill for her to ride in a new convertible. I put her in the Edsel and took the top down and turned the heat up and began burning up the road. We went to her place.
By the time we got there she was shivering and her nose was red and the rest of her was a bad shade of lavender. I thought she might have frozen to death but then her lips moved; she was saying something about her roommate being gone for the evening.
We went inside and she turned on her record player. I held her close and we stumbled around the room, swaying to some of her Johnny Mathis records. Johnny Mathis is powerful when it comes to melting a lady’s resistance, but I prefer listening to a few Ray Price or Marty Robbin’s gunfighter ballads, I’m a friendly kinda guy and I like to get along with the woman I am with at the moment, so I listen to the music they prefer. Sometimes, a few actually like the songs I like, or at least, they claim to.
I know from past experience, that English teachers prefer a well-read man; I was lacking in that regard, so I tried to make up for it in other areas. Evidently, I passed her test.
When I woke it was early morning and very dark outside. My English teacher was sitting at the kitchen table in a bra and half-slip, casually puffing on a cigarette. I propped myself up in bed, looking out past the living room and through the half-open kitchen door. A cup of coffee sat on the table in front of her, the steam rising from it lazily. Her legs were crossed, and she wore high heels with ankle straps. Nylon stockings were stretched taut against the curve of her leg, and I wondered why any girl in her right mind would wear stockings like that. I also wondered what her name was.
I didn’t really give a damn because the circular saw inside my skull captured my entire attention. I couldn’t remember much about last night. But it seemed to me that I should, at least, know who I spent the evening with.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and the circular saw went to work again. I stopped in the bathroom to relieve myself. I went to