5 Rum And Cokes

 

and i was the life of the party.
"you have a beautiful voice, but i bet you get told that
all the time."

and that was cool. that was the first time anyone has
said that to me here. it took the pressure off, ya know?
it's not that it gets old, this "you have a beautiful voice,"
it's that i finally learned to just say, "thank you."

when it first started happening, about 5-6 years ago,
i would try to convince people that i didn't sing well.
"oh, you're just drunk," i'd laugh. what an insult to
people, huh? but i believed it. i used to say,
"hi! i'm denise, and the drunker you get, the better i
sound."

anyway.

so i danced 8 times, 6 of those with glenn, the amazing
non-dancing man. he usually limits me to 2 dances,
maybe 3, a night. and i was so drunk, the world was
spinning. i was laughing. it felt good. it felt very,
very good.

and i made another friend. i've got, what? 7 of those now?

"you're good people."

"thank you."

i'm people, people.

so i woke up this morning with no recollection of coming
home. glenn says we made love. really? and i don't
remember? that doesn't happen very often.

and i know that at some point, while he was dancing and
twirling me, and i was laughing, i whispered in his ear,
"i am falling in love with you."

and then i dared to look in his eyes, but i couldn't
read what i saw there.

and this i remember: "i love your sexy, sultry, smoky
voice."

and this: "i want to take you home, eat your ***** for hours
and then have you sing me to sleep."

"thank you. what's your name?" i said.

 

denise

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