An Encounter To Remember

1

I looked around the crowded room, packed with drunk men and women flaunting their bodies to anyone and anything that occupied space. It was a Friday night and everyone was trying to have as much fun as they could, before the weekend was over and they had to go back to work, school or whatever else that occupied importance in their life.
I spotted a seat at the bar and quickly went over, before someone else snagged it away. Sitting down, the bartender looked at me with a smirk, as though he already knew that I was too young to be there, "what can I get you, pretty lady?" He asked, as he studied my face with his chocolate colored eyes.
I cleared my throat, settling on the only thing that I could have actually digested when it came to alcohol, "a shot of tequila, and just give me a coke to cool it off," I wasn't in the mood to get drunk, while I was all alone, with no one to look out for me. But I did need a little buzz to free myself from the loneliness.
He nodded, grabbing the tequila bottle from the shelf behind him, along with a shot glass and poured my drink, "here you go, hun," he winked, before taking out a coke from the cooler below the bar, "that'll be all?" Before I could respond, he was already taking someone else's order.
I drank the shot and realized that he forgot to give me a lime and some salt, so I chugged half a can of the coke to rid the bitter taste of the alcohol. He probably thought that I was going to use the coke for that anyway. I took a deep breath and continued to sip on the caffeinated soda.
Looking around me, there weren't many people at the bar. Most, if not all, were on the dance floor grinding their bodies on one another. It was already 11:30 in the evening and I guessed that everyone was drunk off of their asses and couldn't digest any more liquor, though the party had just begun. I knew people usually would just be arriving.
The few others that were sitting at the bar joined the rest on the dance floor, leaving me by myself, "anything else I can get you, hun?" The bartender asked, catching my attention. I took a deep breath, looking at the empty can in front of me.
"Just give me a water," I answered, rubbing my eyes. I was tired, but I knew I couldn't sleep.
Lately, I had been having a hard time sleeping. The last few days had been hectic and all my mind wondered was how much my life was changing. I only moved there less than a week before and I already felt like I was heading down a slope of major depression. Maybe I needed something to occupy my life, but what? I was antisocial and knew no one. I had my father, but he was always busy with work and I didn't blame him for his success, but like any other successful entrepreneur, he was never around much.
I didn't realize that the bartender left the bottle of water in front of me. I grabbed it, twisting it with the palms of my hands. I then felt someone near me and turned my head to see a woman taking a seat on the stool beside me.
She smiled, catching my glance and placed her purse on the counter of the bar, "can I have a martini?" She looked at the barkeep, as he nodded and went to make her drink, "are you okay?" She furrowed her eyebrows, as I realized that I was still staring at her. Turning my face to hide my blush, I shook my head, before stumbling on what I was going to say.
"Y-yes, s-sorry."
"Sorry for what?" I looked at her again, as the bartender placed her drink in front of her. She picked it up and took a sip.
"I didn't mean to stare," I bit down on my bottom lip, feeling nervous.
"Oh, at least someone is looking," she laughed and I forced a smile, "tell me something, aren't you too young to be here?" She questioned, taking another sip of her drink. I felt a bit more comfortable to not stumble on my comeback.
"Well, there's no age restrictions to be sitting on a stool in a crowded place," she shook her head, smiling.
"You don't look like you're even eighteen yet," I shrugged and rested my elbows on the bar.
"Did I say that I am?" I asked, looking at her, as she passed her fingers through her hair.
"Hmm, now I feel old," she stated, taking a long sip from her drink.
I studied her, trying to come up with how old she was, "you don't seem a day over thirty," she chuckled and placed her drink down. Her facial features were quite beautiful even in the dim lighting and the dress that showed cleavage, but not too much for her to be considered a slut, made me bite down on my bottom lip.
"And you must be blind," she leaned forward, giving me a better view of what the low-cut dress hid. I swallowed, before forcing my eyes away, not wanting to come off as a pervert.
"Well, the lighting isn't too good here," she rolled her eyes, before leaning back in her chair.
"How old are you?" She asked, picking up her drink and I unscrewed the cap of my bottle, taking a sip of the pure liquid.
"Not old enough to be here," I responded, turning my gaze away from hers.
"So how did you get in here?" She crossed her legs.
"Wouldn't you like to know," I turned my gaze back.
"I would actually," I took another sip of the water, before capping it and placing it down.
"I have my ways," I grinned, deciding to take off my jacket, since it was a bit humid, though it was an air-conditioned room.
"Friends, I would presume. I remember those days," it seemed as though she was thinking back to a specific memory.
"Nope, I don't need friends to be wherever I want to be," I replied, spinning the stool, so that I would face her.
"You must have a fake ID then," I shook my head, tapping my fingers on my thigh.
"Ask me my age again," she furrowed her eyebrows confused, "just ask," I insisted and she looked at me strangely.
"How old are you?"
I looked at the time on my wrist watch, before speaking, "18."
"How did you just turn eighteen?"
I faced my watch to her, "it just passed twelve. Happy birthday to me," I sighed, not feeling like having the day in the first place. Why can't I just become older and skip the day itself?
"Well, happy birthday," she smiled, the enthusiasm lacking, "but you're still not old enough to be drinking," I lifted the water bottle in front of me and arched my eyebrow.
She then pointed to the empty tequila glass and I pouted, "damn, can't fool those eyes."
She shook her head, "I'm not that blind."
"What's your name anyway?" I asked her.
"Kira. Yours?"
"Melanie. You have a nice name," she smiled.
"So how old are you then, since you know mine, it's only fair to return what I have shared."
She took another sip, emptying her glass.
"Old enough to be your mother," I took a deep breath, lowering my eyes to my thigh.
"Are you okay?" She questioned, presumably noticing my sudden change in mood.
"She was 53," she realized what I meant and had that look of pity written across her face.
"I miss my mother too," she gestured to the barkeep for another drink.
"Yeah, she was great but you still have to tell me your age," she groaned and picked up the drink that the barkeep placed in front of her, "oh, come on. I think you're being too dramatic about it."
She rolled her eyes and smiled, "if I tell you, what do I get in return?"
I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling as though I was being played, "hey, I already told you my age."
She shrugged, "your loss. If you want to know, you have to give me something I want," she grinned, turning to face the crowd that was dancing around like mad people. I would have thought the standard of the hotel would have more respectable people. But it was Labor Day weekend and even the most decent and respectable wanted to have fun.
"Okay, what do you want?" I gave into her, since I wanted to know her age. What would she want anyway? For me to buy her a round or something?
"I don't know yet. I'll figure something out though," she smirked, before continuing, "I'm forty-one."
"Interesting, my last girlfriend did say that I'll meet a woman in her forties," I pointed out that I was a lesbian to her. She didn't seem to take it as all homophobes did. But as I said it, I realized that she might have taken it in the wrong way, "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant..." I was lost for words, not knowing how to cover up what I'd said. She shook her head and laughed.
"It's okay, I didn't take it like that," I felt relieved, not liking to embarrass myself in front of beautiful women, "why would she say that?" She asked, getting back to the subject. I thought back to when Talia said that I kept checking out all the older women that crossed paths with me.
"She realized that I liked older women before I did," usually, I wouldn't share such information with strangers but, then again, I would never see her again.
"Hmm, I think all lesbians like older women. Well, at least I was one of them. Now I'm the old one, so I'm sadly dating women my own age," my eyes lit up as she said that. So, she is a lesbian. Something about meeting other lesbians intrigued me. It was nice to know that there were others just like me out there. I never really had encounters with women who shared the same sexuality as myself and the ones that I did were actually all of the girls I once dated.
"I think younger women like older women and vice versa. But then again, I date women my own age, so maybe just some lesbians prefer it that way, well I only date women my age because older women wouldn't give a second glance at me because I'm so young..." my own logic was confusing me. Am I seriously blabbing like an idiot? I stopped speaking, realizing that I was just embarrassing myself again.
"Well, your problem is solved now. I guess older women will be your birthday gift from the universe," I laughed, wondering if it was actually possible for me to start dating older women. I used to think about it a lot when I was younger, but pushed it to the back of my mind, since I deemed it impossible for such a relationship to happen. I mean, I didn't want anyone to get in trouble. Orange was not a color that I would have liked to see on anyone, especially if it was because of me.
I shrugged it off like it was nothing, "if I may ask, why are you here all by yourself?" I asked, trying to change the topic, before I embarrassed myself further.
"I should ask you the same question," I sighed, looking around the half-empty room. It looked like some people left already, but then again, more were arriving. The bartender was busy serving drinks. Luckily, I sat in the corner where I wouldn't be bothered much by the congestion. Well, that was until I saw a figure approaching us. He looked tall, muscular and up to some mischief.
"Hmm, sweetheart, do you want to come back to my place?" He directed his words toward me and I almost instantly showed my disgust. He was very straightforward and wore a creepy grin. He walked closer, attempting to lean in, before a hand was placed against his chest, keeping him from getting closer to me.
"She isn't interested," he ignored Kira and backed away a bit, not leaving though.
"I could show you a good time, sweetheart. How much will it be for the night?" I looked at him, the same way I looked at all the snobs that tried to hit on me. Did he actually just offer me money for sex?
"I'm not a prostitute, asshole," I finally spoke, making my annoyance clear.
"Even better," he smirked, unsubtly looking at my cleavage.
"Can you just leave us alone," I stated, anger evident in my voice. He was really starting to ruin my mood.
"I'm the owner of this hotel, you know," I arched my eyebrow, knowing that he was lying..
"Really?" I asked and he smirked.
"I can give you anything you want. You just have to spend one night with me."
"I don't fuck scumbags like you," I looked at the woman beside me. She was quiet, but with the look in her eyes, if looks could kill, he would have already been ashes.
"You can't possess the money I have, sweetheart."
"I know that I can at least afford to buy clothes that weren't picked up at a thrift shop," I could have barely seen what he was wearing, but from his lie, I knew that he had nothing worth anything in his name.
"Fucking bitch," he spat, obviously offended by what I said, which made me know that I had hit a sensitive spot. He started it. I still felt guilty, even though he said such profanity to me.
"Look, just leave me alone, okay?" I groaned.
"Whatever, you don't even look like you're worth a fucking cent."
I ignored him, knowing that it was a normal thing for a man to say to build up his self-esteem when a woman rejected them. I would have gone all feminist on him, but luckily, the beautiful woman next to me saved him the trouble. I didn't want to completely ruin my night with her.