Sufi Soul Selective

"I hate that I like you!"
I didn't know whether to smile or duck from the expression on her face. Then she put her head down, with that cascade of black hair veiling her off from me like a purdah. For a second I actually thought she would look up with her eyes milky white and start speaking in ancient Aramaic with that Exorcist voice. But she just snorted a little wine out her nose trying not to laugh and looked up at me, mimed throwing something at me. Good sign. Anytime a woman seems to mime violence my way, or indulge in a little bit of slapping or shoving, I know things are going well.
"Interesting," I mumbled in my best channeling of Humphrey Bogart, with that sort of "you left your lipstick in my bathroom" expression.
"You really suck."
"I really do. Why exactly?"
"Because here I am, telling you I like you, and you're looking for a waiter."
"Only because this announcement calls for champagne."
"Shut up! I hate you."
"I know. You've mentioned that once or twice."
"I don't want champagne."
"I know that, silly girl. I want to pay the check."
"Why? I like this place."
"Well I don't. The lights are the wrong color for kissing."
"Who said anything about kissing?"
"I did, just now. Didn't you hear?"
"You're a bastard."
"No, my parents are happily married and very proud of their little puppy."
She giggled and took a long final swallow of wine and tottered to her feet like a queen who had gone slumming in a tavern and thoroughly enjoyed herself.
"Well I need to use the bathroom."
"Good luck to you, my dear."
"You're supposed to walk me there."
"I trust you not to beat up anybody on the way, love. Or to run away."
She slipped into my embrace, all five foot ten inches of delight and contrary to her earlier, rather militant views about public displays of affection, kissed me as thoroughly as I had ever been kissed. When she walked away, her step was steady and my head was rolling, like I'd done all the drinking. Goddess, what a delightful puzzle are your daughters.
The waiter came over with a knowing smirk that I returned like a happy fool. All around us were groups of people with their eyes glued to whichever football match was going on that night. Don't ask me because I wouldn't remember even on a night I didn't have a beautiful woman making my head spin. Paid the check, tipped the waiter a little extra, slapped him on the back and strode out the bar smiling at the maitre'd, and the hostess, and the hotel janitor sweeping in the corner, and the receptionist, and the door man, and the valet who took my ticket and ran off into the pouring rain.
It had been a perfect night. The kind of night that the gods decreed could exist only a few times in a man's life, I suppose. And as I waited for Her Gloriousness to emerge from the powder room, I felt that wonderful anticipatory murmur in my stomach. I smiled at that reminder that for all my charm, and all my experience, somethings should always remain unexpected and blessed.
There she came, hair flying like the banner behind a charging knight, and stride as determined. I didn't know whether to brace my feet or tuck tail and run. She click clacked down the stairs and click clacked into my arms again, once more proving that she really didn't mind the public so much when the affection came calling.
"My dear girl, you're drunk. And I am as sober as a monk in a well."
She giggled and traced her hands down my chest.
"You say the silliest things."
"Anything for a giggle."
"Take me home, sayer of silly things."
I tipped the valet, held open her door and put the car in gear. She grabbed a hold of my iPod and began to shuffle through my music. I loved when she did that. I don't know why. She seemed to have the closest taste in music I had encountered to mine in years. Pretty soon, we were cruising down on that long road by the sea on the wed roads, with our windows down, and that thick loamy air buffeting our faces, and the Roots' new album beating up the speakers.
"So how long will I have to wait before you ask me out again," I asked.
"Why do I have to ask you out?"
"Well we've established that you're the aggressive one betwixt us, so the onus of responsibility is on you."
Her laughter caressed my face as light as the wind, as soft as her hand on the back of my neck.
"Betwixt? Really? Who used that in proper conversation in the last century other than you?"
"Fair wench, as I tire of repeating, it is a part of my antediluvian charm."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means shut up and kiss me again."
"You want more of that, you need to pull over or get me home faster."
"Yes ma'am."
Pedal to devil, and the metal on the floor. Behold, fair drunk lass's apartment door.
I parked the car in her building telling the watchman I only needed to go up to use the restroom, and would be down in fifteen. He grunted in disgust and waved me up and away.
She waited by the elevator, still and expectant.
"You're coming up." It wasn't a question.
"The Spanish Inquisition couldn't keep me."
"Good. Whatever that's supposed to mean."
Ding the elevator, bing she's pulling me in. Back to kissing.
She opens her door, and out jumps a fat labrador.
Pet pet pet, nuzzle nuzzle nuzzle. Get off me pooch, I've got work to do.
"Wait here," she points to the bed and smiles. "Don't move."
"Frozen in anticipation madam."
Tick tock tick tock tick. I lie back on the bed and stare at her ceiling. Then her hair appears and then her face. Fuck off ceiling I'm busy.
When we come up for air she says she wants some water.
I go to the fridge, push away the labrador from my ass crack. Pour two glasses, push away the labrador from my crotch. And smiling enter her room.
And there she lies, as perfect as only the Goddess could make her - snoring softly under her lazy fan.
I nudge her with my foot. I put the glasses down and kiss her cheek and call her name. She smiles in her sleep and her snores fade away, her breathing deepening into the tempo of true slumber.
A laugh escapes me and I don't begrudge it. I leave the water straighten my clothes and head down.
As I drive off the guard smiles and waves.