Freed from the Underground
Email william2fday@yahoo.com
Bill_Day
GREENER PASTURES: A Bar Scene (Disco)
It is a cold, cloudy Tuesday night in early January in a fairly large Mid-west city which is resting from a long week-end containing the professional football championships. Set back from a main artery into the city rests a three-story rustic modern wooden building. It looks much like an expensive, well architectured home except for its large flashing sign near the valet parking lot.
The parking lot is relatively small as compared with the capacity of the building and on a good night, the streets for two blocks around are filled with empty, waiting cars. Some patrons walk to The Tiffen Disco-Gallery with the hope that they won't have to stand in the cold for over five minutes in zero degree weather. On Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, it is well worth it for it is the best singles bar in town.
Originally, it was designed as an exclusive club, with very select music and dance on the first floor. On the second were pool and billiard tables, and a viewing gallery of the dance floor below, which gives the establishment its present name. On the third floor were card, backgammon and chess tables. The first floor had two bars; the upper two floors each had a bar. But the person who had built it for his "friends" fell from the social register or at least his name became tarnished, and when the "club quit attracting the group he wanted, he grew bored and sold it.
The second owner name it for the first time and created a marquee "Your Choice." It was a fabulously popular place partially because of its exclusive reputation but also because it again attracted not just the "right" beautiful people, but actually famous people as well, who for some one reason or another were in town. Your Choice's main attraction was that as patrons entered, they were given a card with a free drink on the front and your choice of a song on the back. Of course this card was issued after the lucky participants had paid a cover charge. It was designed as an "either-or" card. Only the biggest losers brought drinks, for those cards could be presented to the disc jockey and the request was placed "at the bottom of a stack," actually in sequence in a computer. During a week night within thirty to sixty minutes, "your choice" was played. During a week end, two or three hours passed before the usually intoxicated client danced his or her soul into oblivion to that special song. People loved it. Couples had "their" dance-songs. Both women and men, who wanted to show off prepared dances, performed. When the club opened, more spectators used their cards on drinks. The second floor gallery would fill and watch the amateur show below which was usually some woman or man, who was too intoxicated, get too wild
This was the way it was conceived with a computer being fed, finding the CDs, and playing them. But of course, the system became corrupted. At first, the computed was programmed not to play the same songs within a two hour period. But this was no problem because how did one know it was not one's request? Then those for whom money was little or no problem or for one reason or another thought it was worth it, obtained more and more cards and attempted to have their time in the spot light.. Soon dancers, real dancers, choreographed their songs and gave real performances. This is when the famous began appearing and the history of hour waits and exclusive rights began. Knowing someone or being famous, even just on the local level, prevented a long and sometimes a fruitless wait. The valet would call forward to the doorman and a really famous person would be escorted through the front door.
The owner loved it all. He had his picture taken with these people and hung on a wall in his office. These prestige people not only had power over him but drugs, the best most powerful in town. He became addicted not to just one but to two drugs, and he quit paying complete attention to the goings on. On off nights, groups came in and controlled large segments of an evening. Heavy metal, country western, rock and roll, slow ballets would play for hours on end. After standing in line for hours, paying an outrages cover charge, requesting a song, not hearing it, and being forced to listen to music you couldn't even dance to or didn't want to, it became all too much. People began to complain, but no one was sober enough to hear.
Business dropped off radically. The rich and famous disappeared and even their impersonators. The owner did some dirty dealings to maintain his habits, and it was sold. Its new owner was a young, ambitious woman who tried again to build and maintain the exclusive reputation it had acquired, but knowingly opened it to everyone. The card and chess tables on the third floor disappeared and were replaced with more backgammon tables circling the bar so the bar keep could watch the drinking. Intimate seating was arranged in the two far corners. On the second floor in one corner,was a small dance floor with tall bar tables and chairs surrounding it. Adjacent was a long bar with shelved bottles of liquor. In the corner where the restrooms were were a series of pinball machines. All of these surrounded the viewing gallery.
The main floor now had three bars rather than two and every inch of space was occupied with the tall bar tables and chairs like on the second floor and with only standing room around the bars themselves. The music had turned from almost total, request to the more popular "top forty." The kinetic sculpture on the wall has been replaced with Broadway boogie woogie lights which stream down the wall and circle the disc-jockey who still wears a dinner jacket and black bow tie. The pulsating red, green, and blue strobe lights from the dance floor remain the same as does the red carpet, mirrors and upon request balloons or soap bubbles which float downward as if from nowhere. In fact, the new owner after selling the pool and billiard tables on second floor, the card and chess tables on third almost came out even on the conversion and at the same time increased its capacity two-fold and its appeal. She had also lowered the cost of entering and made Tuesday nights "Women's Night" and Thursday nights "All You Can Drink" for ten dollars. She had lost money the first couple of Thursday nights so began filling the open bottles with "a little" water. She figured she was keeping everyone little more sober and making a little extra. No one seemed to mind or at least no one complained to the authorities.
Every night, at least one time a night, she would walk through his establishment with pride and satisfaction. She had created a successful enterprise which not only made money but was a service to the community. It was a place where people could meet,
have a good time, do a little drinking and dance if they wanted. But most of all, it was a place where singles could meet their ultimate partners. It was a place where dreams could be fulfilled.
Every night people who had come in, alone and unhappy, left with a new found partner, left with renewed life and hope. This Tuesday is extremely slow as expected by the owner, who even stayed home to catch up on some chores, and invite a friend to watch the championships which she had recorded. She has only three waitresses instead of the usual seven and two are on the first floor. They are the most attractive of her sixteen employees and as expected they bring in a stream of young men. The price of drinks still keep all but the wealthy from staying too long on a slow night like this. The few waitresses kept them from being over attentive to this wealthy crowd.
Only two of the three bars are open on the first floor and singles group around them. Seats are drawn up to the bars and the patrons engage themselves in pleasant discussions. About four couples sit further away from the bar. Two tables of women with drinks in hand are entrapped by men standing around not paying them any attention. A single table slightly asqued from the rest hold two men talking business. Two other men stand watching the couples dance to a moderately fast "soul" record, checking out the women and commenting.
"The one in the blue one-piece jump suit looks like she is made for speed and not comfort."
On the second floor three men and a woman are sitting around the bar laughing. The woman is a close friend of the bartender. Dark empty red leather tables and stools surround the barren dance floor while a lone male watches down from the gallery The disc-jockey, a woman, stands on a platform between the gallery and the dance floor, changing the music and working the lights. She wears the classic black bow tie wrapped around her neck and dinner jacket opened in the front. But under the jacket is a black scantly one-piece outfit, very low cut. A man in a three piece suit appears above her. He leans on the brass railing which surrounds the gallery, and begins to comment every now and then which makes her turn around and look up at him. He has been doing this appearance-disappearance act all night, each time making a request, some of which she fulfilled, some which she didn't. The request to come home with him tonight has been left unanswered and so he is now on his fifth drink, and getting a little more loud.
On the third floor two men and a couple are playing backgammon. The bartender is listening to a basketball game on a hidden radio and playing solitaire. The music fills the silence between discussions of the correct moves. Jack stands watching the two men play. He has a drink in hand which he sips with regularity. He stands in silence, depressed by the night, tired of the scene but he still present. After the first week under new management, he was there almost every night for two straight months. Now he comes in three or four times a week.
Completely unnoticed Sherri ascends the stairs to the game room. Immediately she checks out Jack. She is attracted by his styled hair, moderately long, his light leather coat, his matching wool pants, and boots. She moves to a bar stool only two feet from his back. It was a slow night at the club where she works, and she got off early and is feeling slightly adventurous
She feels good, light and free because she arrived at work dreading the evening but was given the option to work. Now she savors the release that she didn't have to pull that slow shift where she wouldn't make any money and would just be wasting her time. It has been many months since she even thought of spending her time-off at a bar.
So she had gotten into the routine of working six nights a week and five days, then spending the rest of her time with her girlfriends. She had a boyfriend some months earlier but quit calling him on her random nights off because she really did not want to develop the relationship any further. He had mentioned marriage but she couldn't see it with him. She didn't want to be married to a laborer and have to keep either one or both of her jobs to raise the children, which she wanted. Hell, she was making more money than he. No, she was better-off without him, and the possibility of finding the right person spurred her on. Just three weeks earlier on her night off she had met a man at an art opening, who looked promising but he hadn't called as he said; so she was taking another look.
Tonight is an extra, unexpected night, she thought, "And I am going to make the best of it!"
She orders a soda with a squeeze of lime, "Slow night, huh?" she says in a jovial tone.
"Must be for you also."
Thinking her occupation couldn't be that transparent, even though she is still wearing her long cocktail evening dress asks, "Why do you say that?" in a slightly demanding tone.
He points to her drink. She regains her carefree mood and smiles. "Oh!" with a slightly affected air, " Must keep my wits about me in this mad house. Don't want to be taken advantage of."
The bartender chuckles. Her feelings surface too abruptly in laughter and too loudly. The gammon players turn and look. Jack turns, looks, and continues to stare for a brief moment. Her head and long curly blond hair are thrown back for that moment. She is attractive in her ankle length, black dress, tightly fitted around her torso. Her breasts are lifted and partially exposed.
One of the men playing says, "Your move," and Jack turns back to the game.
Sherri and the bartender continue to talk with business small talk after she had whispered that she was a waitress at O'Harals. He had guessed she was a high priced waitress somewhere and had already fixed her another without asking.
"For me?" she says with mock surprise.
"On the house. Thank you for adding beauty to a dull night."
She says thanks with a smile but sits back on her stool. He smiles, leaning on the counter with anticipation but after a moment he shrugs his shoulders and goes back down the bar to his solitaire and radio.
Jack sips the last bit of liquid from his glass, begins to turn around to call the bartender, but stops himself. "Only four and I have already had two," he says softy to himself. He lifts his glass to his mouth and sucks a piece of ice. His thoughts continue but this time without his mouth moving. "Twenty dollars a night, three nights a week, one two hundred and forty dollars a month, including tips. That's what it all comes down to … money. Six hundred for the apartment and food. Two hundred a month for alimony and child support and two hundred for savings. Let's see..... Just what I figured and fifty more for miscellaneous. Sacrifice .. Sacrifice"
But without the scrimping and saving, he knew he would never get out of the mess he was in. He wanted marriage again because he was happily married, but knew without money, marriage was impossible.
His divorce had not only taken his hard-earned house, but he had gone on a rampage, spent all his savings and lost his job. Two months after the divorce was final he had nothing except the clothes on his back, not even a car. Now he had over a thousand in the bank, a free business car to drive and spending money. He had not regained a salary as he had had before his month-and-a- half drunk but that period of drunkenness was necessary as were his three to four nights out a week, now. He knew it was an escape, but what else was there to live for. Without the possibility of finding someone new, maybe someone who is financially secure where he could quit his job and go back to school to finish his business degree or at least become solvent so he could do want he wanted with his own money. As the game ends Jack turns, steps up to the bar, waits for the bartender to look up and nods for another.
The bartender leaves his game and walks the length of the bar to fix it. "Special drink, special glass, special attention, for these kinds of tips, who does he think he is trying to fool, but what can I expect from a used car salesman?"
As Jack waits at the bar, Sherri catches his eye. They smile at each other, and she whispers a "Hello." Sherri notices the special consideration given Jack. The bartender slides the drink across the bar, "On the Tab?" Jack nods affirmation and returns to the gammon game. The bartender looks at his watch then at Sherri and says, "Two more hours" but doesn't wait for a reply and moves back down the bar.
When everyone is settled into place, Sherri motionlessly moves up to him, reaches over and gently touches his am. He turns and looks. She smiles and says, "Want a game?"
"Your choice of tables," he answers while staring at her.
She surveys the room, gets up, grabs her purse and drink and walks to a table near a corner. They sit and set up the table.
"Something is wrong."
"We set it up in opposite directions."
Both laugh at their lack of awareness and only after some effort make the proper arrangement. He narrowly wins two games in a row by throwing more than a couple of doubles. She doesn't say anything, not even after observing his mistakes. During the third game while uncrossing her legs, their knees touch. Both of their legs settle, touching. They confirm their intentions with eye contact. She wins the third game by a healthy margin and he remarks, "So much of this game is luck." She smiles coyly, with innocence but knows that more than justice has been served.
"Want a revenge game?" she asks.
"No thanks. I think I'll see what's happening downstairs. Want to dance?"
"Maybe later." She goes back over to the bar where her coat is. The bartender comes down to meet her, and she orders another.
Jack presses gently on her arm in passing. She glances at him and smiles while talking quietly to the barman.
"See you downstairs."
"O.K.," but there is a little hesitation in her voice as she thinks of the new possibilities which may await her. "The dance floor may be more interesting by now," she says to no one but loud enough to reassure herself. She opens her purse to find some money. She puts a dollar on the bar as the bartender hands her the pack of custom-made matches and says, "Something to remember me by." She says, "Thanks," but doesn't leave."Let him get settled downstairs, just in case." She thinks of having another drink but decides to leave first because she does not want the barman to come back and hover over her. On the steps she pauses. She stops on the second floor and watches from the gallery until she sees Jack enter the dance floor with some woman. She quickly moves
"Let him get settled downstairs, just in case." She thinks of having another drink but decides to leave first because she does not want the barman to come back and hover over her. On the steps she pauses. She stops on the second floor and watches from the gallery until she sees Jack enter the dance floor with some woman. She quickly movesDown the stairs.
Jack is dancing with a cocktail waitress from The Tiffen Disco-Gallery on her night off. They had been involved a couple of months ago, but it didn't work out. They are good friends still because she did not push a relationship knowing that he was still hurt from his divorce. She knew him as well as anyone just by observing him here, and their couple of dates. She was happy with their friendship and could wait rather than renew a chance of a complete break-off. She knew he was looking for something else, but he was afraid of rejection or getting trapped; he wanted someone but was afraid to let someone know him; he needed someone but was afraid of the pain of involvement; needed to break out of his loneliness but was afraid to let someone know him, and thereby become vulnerable. She knew that both of them needed a friend and was happy with that. He was one of the few with whom she felt comfortable, mainly because he wasn't interested. At least he wasn't on the "make" all the time, treat her like a cheap whore, or worse of all come on to her with mind-fuck games.On their second date all games had ended when he got a little too smashed and completely opened up to her, pouring forth his whole story. It also closed the door to any possibility of romance, but she didn't mind that; she could have a mysterious romance any night she wanted- after work. It was after this last date that she saw his fears. She never approached him as she knew a friendship could only develop if he came to her, which he eventually did.
Sherri had circled around the dance floor, checking out the dancers and other customers but didn't stop until she reached the restrooms. It is still not crowded. "Oh, well, stick with what I have found." Some had paired up and the remainder seemed unavailable or not worth her effort. It was a quick judgment, but it had to be. "No time to waste." She runs a brush through her hair, admires her make-up, re-applies lipstick, smiles at her reflection and walks out.
Jack is standing at the bar, still talking to his waitress-friend. Sherri walks straight up to him, interrupts them and says,"How about that dance?"
He puts down his drink on the bar, then leads her to the dance floor as a voice announces, "Last Call." During the fast dance Jack shows off with his practiced style,
which is somewhat repetitive. He moves gracefully, not missing a beat.
Every night after last call, there is one more fast record then to help all the couples along, three to four slow pieces and viola everything is set. Jack takes his clue from a very smooth transition to the slower music and is equally smooth. He pulls Sherri towards him, holds her with assurance as he leads her through two of the three records.
Even though she hasn't had a drink, she feels light. She almost involuntarily whispers during the second slow one, "I'm really enjoying this." He presses her more
closely. But at the beginning of the third, knowing the lights would come on, he said,
"Let's get out of here."
The computer immediately issues his bill and he signs. Sherri collects her coat and purse and they walk out together. "Where is your car?" he asks.
"Around the comer.
"Mine is right here. I'll drive you to yours." The doorman sees Jack and calls for his car. By the time Jack and Sherri walk down the stairs into the parking lot, his
Lincoln-Continental is waiting with the valet holding the door. Jack tips with a bill.
The car warms almost instantly. The light feeling Sherri had while dancing is revived and she comments about his beautiful, comfortable car. They drive out of the
parking lot. Snow begins to fall. "Your car is already warm. Mine won't be by the time I get home." The conversation moves to the snow, skiing and spring. "Here." The car stops in front of her new Chevy. He decides to make his move and asks, "Want a cup of coffee or some breakfast?"
"Coffee sounds good."
"I know where we can get the best coffee in town." She smiles. She has heard this line before but is willing. Her smile changes into a giggle.
"I don't even know your name."
"Bob." He begins laughing also. "What's yours?"
"Sherri, with an "S." The conversation now turns to more personal matters. It is established that she is not involved with anyone at the moment, that he is divorced with an eight year old child but both intentionally stay away from the topic of employment. They drive up to an apartment complex and he parks. "Are you surprise?"
"A little, but I feel very comfortable with you and I am not afraid."
"There is no need to be. Nothing is going to happen that you don't want."
He walks around to her door and opens it for her. She glides out and snuggles up to him. Tenderly he kisses her and places his arm around her waist. They walk into the apartment building arm and arm. After fumbling with the keys for a second, he opens the door. They walk into the living room. He carefully adjusts the light-dimmer
before switching on the lights, then starts some music.
"Where is your bathroom?"
He directs her toward it then goes into the kitchen and starts the water for the coffee. Returning to the living room, he lights the preset wood in the fireplace, and she
walks in while he is watching it catch.
"This is beautiful."
He takes two big floor pillows and places them in front of the fire. Both get comfortable and watch the fire for a few minutes:
"I almost forgot the coffee." A couple of minutes later he returns with two cups.
"This is good. What's in it?"
"Irish whiskey. Sorry, I don't have any whipped cream."
She takes another sip. "You are right, this is the best coffee in town." They settle back down to a peaceful silence. He takes her hand and gently strokes it. They both stare into the fire. When he takes off his shoes, she follows his move.
"Are your feet as cold as mine?"
"Freezing. This is so much better. I am really glad, I let you buy me a cup of
coffee. Both laugh with tenderness and warmth.
"This is the nicest finishing touch to an evening I have spent in an awfully long time," he says. She agrees by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. He takes her
face in his hands and kisses her on the lips. Both gaze at each other and lean back on the
pillows. No words are spoken; no words need be spoken, until she stifles a yawn.
"Tired?"
"Yes." she answers. He puts his arm around her and draws her closer to him. She rests her head on his chest. Both close their eyes.
Sometime later, he stirs to replace the music and discovers she is asleep. He gently places her head on the pillow, gets up, turns off the recording, goes into the
bedroom and gets a blanket off his bed, comes back, switches off the light, and covers her with half the blanket. While getting under the covers, a piece of wood pops and a spark lands on the rug. He quickly shovels it onto the hearth with his hand.
"Is everything all right?" she asks quietly.
"Fine." He lies back down. Feeling secure, she presses against him. He kisses her. She responds overtly arousing his desires. They kiss again and again until her shoulder straps are removed and his shirt is unbuttoned. Both touch each others' breasts until she runs her hands across his stomach and down to his belt. He helps her and slips off his pants. Her dress is unzipped and taken off. They resume their kissing but with more intensity until the act is complete to both's satisfaction.
They lie on their sides facing each other. She touches his face, and he strokes her hair. Neither of them wanting this moment to end; they again begin kissing but this time without passion. They kiss each other's body intimately until she raises his head and kisses him on the lips. He slowly rolls onto his back, piloting her head with his arm.
Her last thoughts before sleep were, "It will be a sleep without dream, for a dream as been completed. His last thoughts were, "It has been a long time since it has been as good as this."
They awaken as dawn approaches. He stokes the embers until a flame rises from the coals and he places another two logs on the fire. They adjust the blanket over them and touch emotionally. Their unclothed bodies are warm and warm each other under the blanket. Tightly they hold, until the warmth satisfies them, their grip loosens and they slip into sleep again.
At seven-thirty he awakens feeling a draft. She has rolled away taking the blanket. Reminiscing about the night before he watches her sleep. Her mouth is open and her lower jaw sways with her rhythmical breathing. Suddenly he notices her crooked teeth under the scant remains of last night's make-up. The rest is on his pillow. Cold air makes him shiver. He gets up and closes the damper in the fireplace. Not even an ember remains burning. His movements awaken her. She looks up at him, starts to smile but becomes self-conscious. He is still nude and so is she. She pulls the blanket up tightly around her, gets up, grabs her clothes and purse, then hurries off to the bathroom.
He removes the remains from the night before, placing the pillows on the sofa,taking the cups into the kitchen and gathers his clothes. In the bedroom, the bed catches
his eye. Would there be time to make love? He checks the time. An hour and a half before work. He had awakened wanting to but then the morning light and that she had hurried to the bathroom .... well, he just didn't know now. How real was last night? How real was it for her? Maybe he should have explained more? She puts a brush through her hair, checks the medicine cabinet for mouthwash and deodorant. She looks into the mirror..."Oh hell, "quickly washes her face and tries to re-apply make-up. "I hope everything is all right. Last night everything felt right. If only it would last. But why say that; it can work. I know it can."
He closes the bureau-drawer with slacks and shirt thrown over his arm and underwear in hand. Hearing her leave the bathroom, he quickly sits on the bed., bare legs
emerging from under his terry cloth robe. Neither of them say a thing. She smiles at him and thinks about trying to recapture last night and making love again. But as she walks up to the bed, he stands. She sits on the edge, looks at him and smiles again. As she falls back onto her elbows, he says, "Well I guess I have everything," and moves toward the bathroom.
"If only both of us didn't feel so damned uncomfortable. If we had only gotten to known each other a little better," she thought.
"If only I didn't have to be at work at nine. Was her sitting on the bed an invitation? There would have been time."
She looks around the room. Feeling awkward, she decided upon coffee and heads for the kitchen. Apartment furnishings, modern Danish Oak- I wonder what he does with his money? Did he tell me what he does for a living? I didn't see a picture of his child. I wonder if that was a lie?
In the kitchen a sauce pan is on the stove and a bottle of Irish whiskey and the instant coffee are on the counter. Feelings from the night awakened. She forces herself
not to think but rinses the two cups, and starts the water boiling. "I know, I should fix him a soufflé. She checks the icebox- sparse like the apartment. "Oh, well, maybe he is looking for the right person to fill the void, to make things more comfortable. He needs someone who cares about all this and to set it all right."
The water boils rapidly. She prepares two cups; holding them gingerly, she walks back into the bedroom.
He enters from the bathroom dressed in his slacks and shirt. "TGF, " he says.
"Good morning." She hands him the coffee. He takes a sip and places the cup on the dresser, then pulls out a pair of socks, sits on the bed and precedes to finish dressing.
She sits beside him, sipping her coffee. "Where are you off to so early?"
"A business meeting."
"Too bad," she says. He shrugs his shoulders, then puts on his shoes. She continues asking questions, "Jack .... what do you for a living? I forgot to ask."
"I work for Rocky Mountain Lincoln-Mercury."
"What do you do for them?"
He stares quizzically at her, "Sell cars." She notices a grimace on his face and was about to precede, but he stops her by asking, "What do you do?"
His question throws her off balance, but she gains her composure and answers,
"During the day, I work at Jacies' and at night at O'Harals' Dinning and Dance Club."
"Oh, I've heard of that. I have always wanted to take a date to it." He stands, adjusts his slacks, then goes into the bathroom to blow dry his hair. "That explains a great deal, he thinks. Well, I don't need to worry about going there now."
She stands by the bathroom door as he begins to spray it. "You seem upset. Anything wrong?" she asks. A slight smile appears.
He shrugs and replies, "No, should there be?" but thinks, "I've go to quit doing this." He passes her briskly on his way to the closet to get his sport coat. She follows. With his coat on, she walks up to him and pulls his shirt collar over his sport coat. She wants to say something like, "Let's quit this game," but doesn't. He moves over to the bureau mirror and readjusts his collar.
She walks over to the bed and picks up her purse. "Are you ready?"
"Almost," and remembers where he placed the pants he wore last night. He walks over to get his wallet thinking, "Damn, these awkward mornings after."
"Are you going to take me back to my car?"
"What do you think?"
She wants to say, "Why are you so upset" but doesn't. Instead she marches to the front room without waiting for him. She tries to unlock the front door but is confronted with a dead bolt which she has never seen before. Catching up with her, he skillfully releases the locks and opens the door.
While walking through the lot and trying to gracefully slip on her coat, she spots the car from the night before. When she notices the dealer's license plates a strange feeling of remorse encompasses her. "Oh well ......
....... ........
Almost two weeks later Jack is standing on the first floor of The Tiffen Gallery talking to a waitress, the same one he danced with the night he met Sherri. Understanding how Jack feels this evening, she places her arm around his waist and gives him a peck on the cheek.
"Don't play around with me; it will ruin my chances," he responds with a laugh, but she knows he is partially serious and drops her arm. "Yes, I am getting tired of the dance scene, but where else could I meet someone I would like to settle down for four or five months, save a little extra money, watch T.V....
Knowing him as well as she does she thinks, "You don't let down your image for a moment, 'four or five months', indeed." But she really knows how he feels and
empathizing with him adds, "Watch TV, pop popcorn, drink hot apple cider..... "
He stares at the flashing lights and adds softly, "Or just sit in front of a blazing fire and drink Irish Coffee .... .. but rather than continuing this conversation, he abruptly turns and asks the nearest most attractive woman to dance. They dance to a couple of songs, then walk off the dance floor talking. She is responding favorably to Jack and so he follows her to her seat.
Meanwhile Sherri enters with a girlfriend, the girl friend's husband and one of his friends. Immediately, because she is looking for him, she sees Jack talking intimately
with his dance partner. She wants to talk to him, but he never called, and she doesn't want to make a fool of herself over him. Besides, her blind date seems interested and he is a lawyer. She is overly overtly affectionate towards him and he likes it. She kind of hopes Jack will see,
Jack sees her, but only after his dance partner's boyfriend comes on the scene. He is left standing by himself as they start for the dance floor. He would like to walk over and talk to Sherri but she seems too involved. She might totally reject him in front of those other people.
So he wanders back over to his friend's waitress-station. She is busy working. So he just stands around, looking. He spots another very attractive young lady sitting by herself She must be with some people for coats are on the chairs around her table. He waits to see the situation. In order to keep her in check, he has to stare past Sherri. For an instant their eyes meet; she breaks-off the conversation. He sees that she is stopped short by his stare and moves toward her.
Her date unaware of anything, places his arm around her and begins to usher her to the dance floor. She hesitates but gives in. Jack and she pass each other without saying a word as he goes on to talk to the attractive young lady.
