Monday, April 28, 2008

What A Week, Quiet Man

I have seen and spoken to Quiet Man a lot this week, and in so doing, it has an odd feeling. Why the flurry of activity with him?

It was Monday, and Fred had made his way on his vacation but within the first two hours of leaving home, he sliced a tire at 90 mph at 1 am and almost killed everyone in the vehicle. He had to sit on the side of the highway with Marsha, their kids and their friends. When Triple A showed up they only had a doughnut for a spare so he had to hobble his way to the next major city to get a replacement rental car, at five in the morning. Poor Fred. When Quiet Man told me, I could not stop laughing.

In the late afternoon Monday, I saw him at his office.

I walked into the room and saw the door was open to the warehouse where all the most expensive cars are stored.

I called out hello and saw him come around with someone.

“Hello Beauty!” he said in his thick, strong accent.

How embarrassing, I thought; but with the sexiness in which he called to me, lingered as it sent a shiver to me.

He was with Sal, to whom he introduced me.

We ended up chatting after I brought my friend GTD whom I was with into the office. This man, GTD, would be able to help Sal with his problem that they called me about over the weekend.

We sat for a while listening to Sal’s woes. I sat in front of Quiet Man’s desk, as usual. I felt him stare at me. He was clean shaven and looked handsome. He told me he was at an auction or something like that earlier in the day. Every time I glanced over at him, his eyes darted away, for he was looking at me.

The Swinger showed up and Quiet Man had to deal with him. He just bought an antique car from Quiet Man, he had a problem with some paper work the Friday before, now he was back. He is annoying.

So as we were leaving, Quiet Man had mentioned something about Sal and the casino.

We say good bye, I drop the man I was with at his car and I headed home. I changed out of the slinky knit skirt I was wearing with BCBG heels in Olive shined leather and a wooly top since it was still chilly. I had tanned my legs so that I did not have to wear stockings. No sooner did I change at home, my cell rings. It was Quiet Man.

“Muse?” he said.

“Well, Quiet Man, how nice to hear from you in such a long while,” I teased.

He laughed.

“What are you doing now, Muse?”


“Can you meet me for a drink tonight?”


“Mr. Wrong wants to talk to you and I forget to tell you.”

Why he did not tell me this when I last saw him less than thirty minutes prior. I had to then redress.

[The next day, I had found a message from Mr. Wrong about forty minutes from when Quiet Man called me. Mr. Wrong did not mention anything about meeting with him. I did not mention that to Quiet Man.]

So we made arrangements to meet at his office. He then rings me to tell me he had to diesel up a truck he had to use because the dealer plates where being all used that night for deliveries of vehicles.

I was to meet him at the gas station. So I did.

I pull up and he was walking around the station. I smiled broadly at him and he smiled back. He was going to pick me up across the street in front of Fred’s store where I would leave my car. I told him I would park across the street, rather than drive around the lot to Fred’s store.

I pull out before him and park my car. I see him directly across from me and am walking on lump grass towards him, thinking he would pull out and onto the shoulder to pick me up in that large truck. He whizzes by me toward’s Fred store. I was so annoyed. How could he not see me? I try to get back to the pavement, get my high heels stuck in the dirt, almost toppling forward on my face, while looking for my cell phone to call him. I see he raced to Fred’s seeing the yellow light on the top of the Ford F350 dooley he was driving. I ring him.

“Muse, where are you?”

“I am by the grocery store,” I said.

“What you do there Muse, you are supposed to be at Fred’s ?”

“Just come and pick me up,” I told him.

“OK, Muse.”

So I see him looking for me despite telling him where I was.

He swings the door open for me and extends his hand for mine. I grasp that strong masculine hand and he pulls me into the enormous double cab. I was like a giddy girl being fetched by her cowboy.

We drove to meet Mr. Wrong in the next state. When he parked the truck amongst the luxury cars in the lot, I was wide eyed. There was something very macho about a man picking up his girl in a truck. Not that it was the first time a man collected me like this.

I open the passenger door and I had my right calf swinging in his view, accented by the gorgeous shoe I had on. I knew he would see it as he rushed to help me from the cab. He held my hand while holding the door and stepped close as I descended so I would not fall forward.

He always grasps my hand in the same manner into his warm one. I offer my hand and he firmly holds my fingers and the top part of my palm, like a princess.

We laughed and he held my waist as we walked to the front door. I put my arm around him, resisting burying my face into his side.

We enter and we saw Mr. Wrong by himself in his predictable black turtleneck. He is handsome in his own way, but does nothing for me at all. He was sitting at the bar where Quiet Man and I had done a few nights before.

Quiet Man wanted me to sit between the both of them, which I did not feel comfortable doing, being we were at the bar. I finally convinced him that I would sit next to him and he would be in the middle. He mentioned some weird thing about me not sitting at the end of the bar because I would not marry if I do; a weird thing to say.

Quiet Man had filled me in on what Mr. Wrong wanted to speak to me about. Quiet Man ordered drinks for us. Screwing with Mr. Wrong, I acted as if I did not know why I was summoned that night. He stumbled to bring up what he wanted to tell me.

So, I briefly spoke to him, but Quiet Man and I had begun to entertain ourselves, laughing, drinking and commenting on the man who was trying to pick me up the last time. He was at the bar with one of his six girlfriends. Blech, was all that I could say. It ended up that she left with another girlfriend of hers. What kind of girlfriend does that? A fake one.

“Muse, you see he try to impress you tonight,” said Quiet Man.

“No, he is with his woman. She looks exactly as I told him she would.”

He laughed into my ear. We were huddled, leaning into each other, whispering to each other. We sort of forgot about Mr. Wrong.

When Mr. Wrong was done discussing, he noted he had to immediately leave. Quiet Man asked him if he would drive me back to my car. I did not want to go with him though I told Quiet Man when he picked me up I would.

“You know, Mr. Wrong, I don’t want to make you go out of your way. I can call for a ride and if I can’t get one, I am sure Quiet Man will drive me back.”

“But of course, Muse, I would,” Quiet Man responded.

Mr. Wrong just looked at me and tried to convince me it would not be problem. I tried to convince him it would.

So he left and I was happy to finally be there alone with Quiet Man. We continued to talk in our own little world. He drank about three tumblers of rum and coke, and ate the salami and Percorino Romano cheese chunks with which it came.

We decided to leave. I felt bad he had to drive all the way back to my car, being in the opposite direction in which he lived.

“I no mind, Muse,” he assured me. I was glad to spend time with him since it flies by when it is he and I.

We pull into a space next to my car and we continue to converse, laugh and feed off of each other for about two and one half hours.

I was surprised when he turned off the engine. I thought he would leave immediately to go home. He did not.

As I talked with him, I wondered the same thing I did earlier in the evening when I would whisper in his ear to get nearer to him. Would he try and kiss me again? What would I do should it happen? I shuddered to think about it and put it out of my mind until it creeped back in by something he said or how he looked at me.

He reached over the seat to clutch my face between his fingers, like an affectionate pinch. Beauty purred from his lips. He kissed the air towards me. He did this as we spoke about random topics. I sat with my back up against the door. My legs crossed toward him, looking at him first under the street light and then the moonlight when the lights went off. I studied his handsome face and listened to the lilt in his deep strong accent as he spoke to me. I flirted with thought of moving into his lap. He was turned towards me in his seat, but I remembered who we were and just kept the conversation flowing with laughter.

We said our goodbyes. He looked exhausted in the cab light that came on when he reached over me to open my door. Gallant and sure is he.

We follow each other down the road until I need to turn off. I flashed my lights goodbye and he taps his brakes in response.

I entered the house resisting the urge to call him and chat while he drove home.

The next morning, Tuesday, I was on my way to Trudy’s to meet her to go to the casino. First I had to suffer her bowling league. I rang Quiet Man, then hung up. I had my DD coffee I was trying to drink, drive and call. It was too much, so I hung up before he answered.

While I was in the car with Trudy, her husband and her sister, while having to look at where Flat Foot lived when he was young, Quiet Man rings. I ended up hanging up on him by mistake. I dialed his number. The cell timer was moving, but I did not hear him. Trudy’s sister decides to show me baby pictures of her first grandchild. I was talking to her while looking at my cell with the initial indicating who was on the line. I hung up since I think the phone was hanging.

I did not want to call him again because I did not want Trudy to know I was talking to him. She already asked him about me at New Years.

When we arrived at the bowling alley, GTD called me, so I made my excuses to not go in to bowl, having business with which to deal.

I then used GTD as an excuse to call Quiet Man back.

He told me that he was listening to my conversation with Trudy’s sister. We spoke for about 40 minutes during two phone calls since he had to have me wait for him to call me back and then had me on hold for a long time.

I was happy to talk to him, my speech running rampant since he elevates my adrenaline. He is a good tonic for me, uplifting and exiting. It must be the laughter. His laugh is deep, resounding and genuine. It feels good to hear him.

While at the casino, I spoke to him, while leaving Trudy to bet on the horses. I could hardly hear him, but he was on his way home and his cell service would cut off soon.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

You Are a Gambler, Quiet Man

It was Saturday. I was running around all day with my sister in law and CD. We were going to have a BBQ for dinner for myself, my brothers, their others, CD and CD's father's friend, who is interested in me: Rick.

I dropped off CD and my sister in law at their house. I went home to get things for potato salad and some hamburger meat and Sabrett's hot dogs. I also had to go to the store to get some corn on the cob. I decided to buy fresh hamburger meat.

Darting around the store, I was able to get the things I needed rather quickly.

Quiet Man was on my mind and I was wondering what he was doing. I said out loud to myself, "I wish you would call me, Quiet Man!"

Approaching the exit to get on the main road, my cell rings. It was Quiet Man. I was so shocked.

"Allo Muse!" he said, "what you doing?"

"Hi Quiet Man," I purred, even though I did not want to at all.

He called to have his friend ask me a question to help him out with a problem.

This was the same man that liked Carolina at the bar. What was interesting was that Dane told me this guy lived in a basement. Quiet Man says he is wealthy. So odd.

This was what I was thinking when Sal was talking to me.

He tells me, "Quiet Man speaks very highly of you Muse."

I was taken aback.

"He does now, does he?"

"Yes he does. Very highly."

Hmmm. I wonder why he is doing all that he is doing lately. Instead of being giddy an happy hearing this as most women would, I get suspicious. Maybe that is my problem; I don't know.

I finish with Sal and ask him to pass Quiet Man to the phone.


"Hi Quiet Man," I said and continued to tell him what I needed to help his friend.

"Muse," he started, then paused, "You like casino?"

"You know I am going on Tuesday with Flat Foot's mother."

"No," he said, "Sal take Carolina to casino, you remember Carolina from bar?"

"Yes, I remember her." Ew, that Scorpio woman.

"Muse, you want to go?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I will go, I would love to," I said barely believing he was asking me and surprised I am saying yes.

"Muse you come?" he said, also surprised.

"Yes, I told you."

"Carolina comes," and he went into some explanation about her and Sal and what they were all about.

"I don't care what anyone else does, Quiet Man," I told him, "I only care what I do."

"You come Muse to keep me company," he stated.

"You are going tonight?"

"No, not tonight."

"I hope I am not on speaker phone," I warned him, after I went into a big explanation of how I won't care about Carolina and Sal and I don't gossip etc etc etc.

Whatever. I don't get him. I don't even know when we are supposed to be going. How weird is that?

"So Muse, what you doing?"

"I am sitting in front of my brother's house," I began to tell him, and then filled him in about the BBQ.

"How was the club last night?"

"Oh, it was OK," he said unenthusiastically. It did not sound like he had a good time.

"You know where I was yesterday?" I told him about Dane and being near his house, at the Inn. He was so shocked.

"You were at Inn with Dane?'"


I figured Dane never mentioned he picked me up for a ride. That Dane is too much.

"OK, Muse, enjoy your BBQ and your boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend Quiet Man. He just is interested in me. Not my boyfriend."

Geez. Why does he jump on every mention of any man in my life. I don't harp on him and his wife, but when I do, I do.

"OK, Muse."

So I bid him a nice evening with his daughter, he planned on having dinner with her before she had to go back to school. He did not spend any time with her. And I was thinking, so what are you doing with Sal at a bar in a restaurant in the next state? Hmm? What? But I did not nag him about that, since it really is not any of my concern.

I cannot get it out of my head that he invited me to go couples gambling. I can't believe it. This strange seductive man has captivated me. He said I was to keep him company. What could that mean?

Today, I could not help but window shop for an appropriate outfit to wear. But I did not know if we would arrive during the day or at night, so I settled in buying more lip wear. How would we travel to get there, what will we be doing? How sexy it is to go to the casino. It is high paced, and fast living. Exiting.

Starbucks, Quiet Man?

The next day I called Fred at about 3 pm. I had just read the follow up story about him in the paper. Not so good. Looked like a supposed ally threw him under the bus. Well at least to me. And every other rational thinking person.

He was down in the dumps. He had to get off the phone to put through a credit card order he was taking at the time.

I rang Quiet Man about the article. He did not answer. I rang him a bit later and he picked up.


“Hi Quiet Man,” I said cheerily to throw him off since I usually am pretty dour with him.

I also wanted to act as if the night before did not happen, though I was reeling from his behavior with me.

“Are you busy?”

“Ah, yes Muse, I busy now.”

He was with a customer or something. He told me he was going to see Fred around 4 pm. I told him I would see him there when I was done.

I ran around to finish what work I needed to do that day at a minimum since I was so unfocused thinking about the night with Quiet Man.

I was high strung and unable to concentrate. I did not have much sleep nor restful sleep. My mind was racing going over and over what happened between us.

He kissed me. I could not believe it. He was married I told myself. He is married. I could still feel him when he grabbed me and placed me between his legs. Racing through my mind was the excitement of his being attracted to me and the worry of that this is a married man. I was high strung which is unlike me. I could not stop thinking about him or the night before.

What on earth did Ricky think? I did not know. I do not even remember seeing his reaction. I know Ricky would just keep things to himself. He is very loyal to Quiet Man. I do not believe he would do anything to hurt me.

So I make my way to Fred’s after I finished for the day.

I walk in and he greets me from the back door and motions me in.

Poor Fred. He seemed stressed.

I walked into the office knowing Quiet Man was already there. My heat raced.

I looked at him sitting in his usual chair in Fred’s office. He looked tired to me as well. He was wearing the same damned clothes. Eew, was what I thought. Then I noticed that Fred was as well, or at least the same shirt. He had on a silk royal blue shirt the day before and it was the same one he had now. I don’t get this wearing the same clothes two days in a row.

“Sit Muse, sit,” motioned Quiet Man.

He still made my heart jump.

We chatted for a while and Fred was all crazy because he had to pick up his rental SUV or whatever it was for his trip with his family. He was worried about his mom who fell and broke her hip while she was with her other son. She lives with Fred, but went to his brother’s because she could not go on the trip. Fred was freaked out that the first time in 16 years his mother is not in his house and she breaks her hip. He was going to cancel his trip but his girls got very upset. Quiet Man told him she would be in a hospital in the city, so what would he be doing anyway? He might as well enjoy himself.

On top of that we were there to discuss the paper and his getting thrown under the bus.

He seemed not so pre-occupied by it, though.

“So, what you think, Muse?” he asked me.

“I think he threw you under the bus.”

“No, he did not. I don’t think so. You think so Quiet Man?”

“Muse is right.”

And after a while, Fred decided he was thrown under the bus and became angered when his ego realized it. He was mad, but had to forget about it because he had to make the rental place for his trip.

So we rise and he locks up his store. I was standing on the sidewalk with Quiet Man. He towers over me and makes me feel safe. He has this manner about him that is assured, macho and strong. People do not know how to take him, his first impression is that strong. You get the feeling he is so standoffish that you do not get near.

Quiet Man was going to drive Fred to get the rental vehicle. He looks down at me and I ask him if he was free after he helps Fred. He looked tired to me. He was free and agreed to call me when he was done. I asked him if he got any sleep the night before.

“What you say, Muse?” he told me, “We only have couple of drinks.”

“What? You had more than a couple!”

“It was nothing, Muse. Just a couple of drinks, nothing big.”

I guess liquor does not affect him so much.

“I come to work at 8 am I buy paper and I go to see why they say that about Fred, but no one was at office.”

“Wait, you were here in town at 8 am? I got home at 4 am. What, you had three hours sleep at most?”

“No Muse, I am fine.”

Well he looked tired to me. We got in our cars and filed out into the street. Fred was first, driving like a mad man and Quiet Man was behind me driving like a turtle.

At the intersection for me to turn to go home, Quiet Man was in the second lane next to me. Feeling giddy, he was looking at me, smiling. I honk my horn and roll the passenger window down. I had stuck my tongue out at him like a teenager.

“Hi Muse,” he said.

“Hi Quiet Man,” I replied, “You are going to call me later, right?”

“Yes, I call you Muse.”

And then the traffic moved and we waved goodbye.

The night went on and I did not hear from him. I figured he probably was so exhausted or some ridiculous thing was going on with Fred, as usual. Fred was supposed to leave on his trip at 7 pm.

The next day I did some work from home and I called Ricky. He is always happy to hear from me.

“Hi Love!” I hear on the other end of my cell phone, “So did you recuperate or what?”

“OMG, I am still so TIRED Ricky!” I said.

“Well, I got home and was up at work at 7:30 am and worked all day.”

Geez, I began to think I must be weird. I was so tired. I can’t function without sleep. Or a restful sleep.

Ricky was with his Dad and said he would call me later on.

During the conversation with Ricky, Quiet Man calls.

I did not answer but called him after I hung up with Ricky.

He did not answer, so I paged him and left him a curt message about calling me two seconds before and not answering the phone.

He rang within a couple of minutes. I was still sitting in my driveway.

I was happy to hear his voice. I did not even ask him what happened the night before. I got the impression he was just exhausted. I am not one to nag a man if I am not in a good position to do it-so little things like this in light of the big picture does not merit from me any complaining.

Quiet Man wanted to meet me for coffee. Sure, was my answer. I was talking to him while driving to my office and I joked with him. I was going to lose the cell signal and we did a bunch of can you hear me? When I could not hear him, he heard me; and when I could hear him, he was losing me.

“I lose you Muse!” he said.

When he heard me, he would say, “I get you Muse.”

“You get me?”

“Yes, I get you.”

“Now I don’t get you,” he said.

“Well catch me, then Quiet Man.”

I laughed. He cracked up.

“I will catch you Muse!”

“Oh you will, won’t you?” I teased him.

“Yes!” he said laughing, “I will catch you.”

So we decided to meet at Starbucks. I told him I was going to get my DD and drink it in Starbucks.

“You no do that Muse,” he chided.

“Why? I do it all the time. I don’t like that burnt coffee taste.”

“No Muse.”

“Since when do you care what anyone thinks?”

“You know I no care what anyone thinks.”

“So what is the problem now?”

It did not matter, he was not budging, so I agreed to go to Starbucks without a DD coffee.

I waited for him unusually long for a two minute ride. He got out of his Lexus and looked so dashing. It was a beautifully warm and sunny morning. He was clean shaven, his hair glistened like black diamonds in the sun and was dressed very nicely. I was impressed. He also looked well rested.

He walked towards me and he led me to Starbucks. I was a bit annoyed since I don’t like Starbucks coffee and he likes their latte. So in dire need of caffeine that I was not going to get, I reached into the cooler and pulled out an orange Izzi that is really called Clementine.

We get our drinks and we sit on the cushy chairs. He likes those chairs. I feel like they swallow you and you have to practically yell to speak to the person you are with and more often than not, I am sitting on the edge of the chair which gets uncomfortable after a while.

We sat with our drinks and we looked at each other. I studied his handsome face. My hair was still very wet that I wrapped it to sit along my neck down my chest. I was worried about what I looked like since wet hair does what it wants. I was getting self conscious about it that all I ended up doing was playing with my hair, wrapping and re-wrapping it. He did not seem to notice or mind. He was also looking directly into my eyes. I did have the Dior pink lipstick slathered on again.

“Last night, Freddy no leave until 11 pm.”

“OMG, are you kidding?”

“No, I no kid Muse,” he replied.

Fred had taken a nap and was up at 11 pm and decided to start his trip with his family and friends of his kids at 11 pm.

He was not more than an hour or hour and a half from home and at 1 am, since he was speeding at 90 mph, he somehow ripped up a tire and almost lost control of the car and saved himself from killing everyone.

“He drives like a maniac,” I commented.

“He drive fast. He no know how to drive, he never did.”

What Quiet Man meant was that Fred never drove any kind of long distance and did not know how to manage such a long, arduous trip. He decided to drive because to fly everyone would cost over $10,000.00 for such a short flight, along with a host of other problems that only would apply to Fred.

Quiet Man the Aquarian is never long without someone calling him. His cell phone kept ringing. He spoke to his wife then to his daughter. He tells me what he spoke about with them, since he spoke in his native tongue. I am able to catch the jist of some words, not knowing his language, enough to know he was telling the truth. He then spoke to some customer friends.

In between we tried to chat. We did more staring at each other than talking. I was surprised at myself that I was not cringing looking at him knowing his behavior of the night prior. Apparently my non reaction to him was not enough for him to not want to see me again. He must have some ego, larger than what I have noticed so far.

After a call, he tells me it is someone I know. He has to go to his office and would be back.

“Muse, I so sorry. I was late coming to meet you because he called and said he wanted to come and pick up papers.”


“So and So. You know him.”

“Oh, him. He is annoying.”

“It is business Muse.”

“I know, but for me it is not and I can say what I want.”

“Of course, Muse. You are right.”

He laughed because he knows I find this person distasteful. He is an old man and he swings. I can’t get into how I know that about him, but to see him, you are surprised that he can stand up by himself.

“I will be back soon Muse. You stay here, I will return quickly.”

“OK, you are coming back, right?” I doubted him for a split second.

“Yes. I come back.”

So I watch him rush out. I was sitting by myself. He left his coffee cup. I picked it up. It was still half full. He would come back I then thought.

I put on my sunglasses to look outside where it was bright. I was wearing an odd outfit. A battleship grey long sleeved shirt with a round neck at the base of my neck. It was pretty loose. I had it paired with a royal blue pair of yoga slacks that had slits on the sides that where about four inches long, exposing my ankles when I walked. I was wearing a pair of bright orange BCBG mules with a two inch black heel.

I was swinging my shoes as I sat crossed legged. I was barefooted in the mules. A woman came up to me and admired my shoes. I thanked her.

After a while, I see Quiet Man rushing into Starbucks. I act as if I did not watch him arrive.

He smiles at me broadly as he resumed his seat. He sighed. He did rush to return to me.

His phone starts ringing again. When he was done, I complained.

“Every time we try to talk together, we are interrupted by someone dropping in or calling. I find it annoying.”

“What you do Muse?” he pondered. He meant what could he do about it. Nothing much, I knew, but I still wanted to lodge my displeasure.

He told me some funny stories. I particularly liked the one about his almost octogenarian customer-friend who he takes to the strip club I guess as a business thank you or something like that. These old men go crazy for these girls who ripped them off. One spent FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS, yes you read that right, $40,000.00 on one girl or giurrl. Quiet Man asked him why he did that when he did not even get any sex out of it? I could not stop laughing. What an idiot.

Another decided he needed Viagra. A magnum of Viagra as Quiet Man told the story. This aging man, who apparently was very wealthy, took a magnum of Viagra one night and called Quiet Man at home very late at night. He had to talk to Quiet Man. He was worried about the Viagra kicking in since he had heart trouble. It was not working, even after taking a magnum of it.

“You are kidding right? These men call you with their Viagra problems and why they are not getting an erection?”

“Yes, Muse,” he manages to get out while laughing.

Oh, these people are sick.

The phone rings again. He looks at his caller ID and rolls his eyes. It was Dane.

“Let me answer!” I pleaded. “I want to goof on him.”

“Hello,” I said.

I hear nothing.

“Hello!” I repeated.

Nothing. We looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

I hear Dane’s tiny soft voice, “Hello?” he said weakly, confused about who he called.

“Who is this?” I teasingly demanded.

“This is Dane,” he answered, the dope.

“Who is this with the beautiful voice?” he asked.

“Who do you think it is?”

“Oh, Muse, I would recognize your voice anywhere!”

My voice is pretty deep and sultry most times, but I would not call it beautiful.

Quiet Man rises to use the men’s room.

I told Dane I was with Quiet Man and wanted to tease him by answering his phone. Dane just got a “new” antique car and was calling Quiet Man to pick him up and go for lunch.

“Muse, I will pick you both up and buy you both lunch, do you want to do that?”

I did not know what to answer, knowing Quiet Man had to go and pick up his daughter. I only knew he was meeting a friend at 8 pm.

When Quiet Man returned, I gave him back his phone.

“No, Dane, I am sorry. I pick up my daughter. Yes, I be at club tonight at about ten THIURTY,” he says.

Hmmm, the club. Earlier I mentioned what was the fascination with the club. He said it is a part of business, something for the men to go and enjoy. I understand this, but I did not totally believe him either.

After a while, we rise to leave. He wanted me to walk across the way with him to the bank.

The sun was bright and shone down on us. I loved walking with him, being near him.

We get into the Bank and he is as gallant with me as he always is: holds the door, is attentive to me, acknowledges me and just makes me feel good all around.

We are then waiting on the road edge to cross. We get back to Starbucks to talk to the UPS man who just happened to have his package. He sent it back because it was the wrong item.

We started to walk towards our cars. He had to go and bring his daughter back from school. It was awkward saying goodbye since we both just stood together, seemingly difficult to part.

He put his arm around my waist. He was standing close to me so that I almost fit under his shoulder. I put my arm around his waist as we laughed and walked towards the parking.

He stood for a while in the sun with me. He looked down and arranged my hair that had been moved by the strong spring breeze. That small, kind gesture spoke volumes. It was the second time he has arranged my hair for me. To his liking, probably. It was very loving and sweet.

“OK, Muse,” he said and startled me at its abruptness, “I keep in touch with you, OK? I see you.”

Keep in touch with me? What was this, a parting of long duration? It sounded so odd. His abruptness was odd, but it is something he does on occasion. It seems as if he is forcing himself to leave and does it in this manner.

“OK, Quiet Man. I am not keeping you.”

He got into his Lexus while he watched me stand there. He smiled and I smiled back.

I go back to my office. I was fidgety again. I could not do much work. I decided to call Dane. I had heard from another friend who was supposed to help Dane with something. Dane mentioned earlier that he never got a returned call. It was because he was busy. We made plans for him to come and pick me up in his new convertible. I was going to show him how to use his new digital camera he is going to use on his two week European tour. He was going to call me when he was on his way so I would not have to wait for him to arrive.

So, being full of some weird energy, spurring the need to converse, I call Ricky.

“Hello Ricky,” I imitated Quiet Man’s pronunciation of his name.

“Oh, Muse, hello Love,” he says pleasantly.

We chatted for about an hour until Dane called me.

I could not help but ask him about Quiet Man and the night before. I could not help but ask him and besides, I felt safe asking him, for I do not believe he would betray my trust.

He saw what happened. He was hesitant to explain what he saw. His explanation was that Quiet Man was showing me in his way he cared about me. I was playing Devil’s Advocate and not telling him what I actually thought. It was also not the first time that Ricky explained that in their culture, “cheating” on their wives was not uncommon or looked down upon or something crazy like that. It does not mean they do not love their wives, he explains. I never understand this when he tells me. So I left it at that. I had to go and meet Dane.

I pull into the parking lot of the plaza on a hill overlooking the highway. I sit on the edge of the cement edge next to my vehicle. In a short while, I see this monstrosity of a convertible in the distance. I knew instantly it was Dane.

He pulls up, I jump in and kiss him hello on his cheek. He was trying to get a kiss on the lips, not a gross one, but a somewhat closed, friendly kiss on his lips.

He got himself a DD and we were off. We headed towards the next state and he wanted to keep going. We ended up driving very close to Quiet Man’s home. Dane was not sure exactly where it was and I told him I was not going to get into that with him, where the house was.

So we head back, pass a lake and see an Inn over looking the water. We pull in and the car faces the lake. Dane was wishing for something to be open on the water. There is only one restaurant on the water and it was not going to be open until April 26, said the sign I reminded him.

We watched the wedding for a while, I showed him how to use his camera without the benefit of the manual and he wanted to walk out towards the water. We returned to the car and I wanted him to call Quiet Man and goof on him to tell him where were where.

“Let’s goof on him. We will tell him we are here at the Inn and decided to elope and get married, because we were watching a wedding here today to inspire us, or something stupid like that,” I told him.

Dane did not bite. In fact, he relishes taking me out I have surmised. Quiet Man told me when I first met Dane that Dane does stuff like that to Quiet Man. He will go behind his back and talk directly to someone about business that Quiet Man knows and does business with as well. Quiet Man does not get mad at that he said, “It’s just Dane,” is his explanation, “He is old man, what I care? He is like that.”

So Dane is Dane. He did not want to joke around with Quiet Man.

So we continue on, sit by the edge of the lake at another point, and then he drops me off.

I bid him farewell and wished him a fun time at the club.

“You want to go to the club, Muse?”

“No I don’t Dane.”

“You went before,” he said.

“Yes, because you said Quiet Man and Ricky where going to show up, but they did not,” not wanting to tell him he tricked me.

“I treated you like a gentleman, didn’t I Muse?”

“Yes, you did Dane.”

“You stayed almost to the end that night, Muse,” he rationalized.

“Ah, because you were my ride, Dane.”

He stopped trying to convince me. He likes going to the club to see the beautiful girls he told me during our ride. I told him, no, he likes to see naked girls and the girls I saw at the club where ugly, not beautiful.

I don’t understand this with these men and wanting me to go with them to a strip club. I will never figure it out at all.

And with that, I jumped out of his gigantic convertible and went to work out at the gym.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Uh-OH, Quiet Man!

Yesterday was Wednesday April 16, 2008. It was a long day. Very long.

Fred’s problem was festering in the midst of getting resolved. He was optimistic, and I was suspicious. Quiet Man was just pensive.

To start the day, I was in my office. I was just finishing with someone who asked me if I saw the paper. I did. My brother called me in the AM.

“Did you see the paper today?”

“No, why?”

“Just read it,” he said and hung up.

I read the paper on line and I see Fred made it’s headlines. Uh Oh, was what I first thought.

I had called Fred at the store, he did not answer. He usually arrives at 10 am and it was well before.

I ring Quiet Man. He did not read the papers. He was jovial and optimistic. He tells me that Fred is still home.

So I emailed him the article and we agreed to meet later for coffee.

It was around 1 pm and I called Ricky about something.

“Hello, Love!” he says, “I was just going to call you!”

Ricky is very sweet.

“You were?”

“I just passed your office and noticed you were there.”

“Well, where are you now?”

“Can I come over?”

“Yes, why not?”

And he keeps me on the line while I notice him in the parking lot.

“What is wrong with you Ricky, you are in the parking lot and you are still talking on the phone? Why don’t you just hang up and come on in?”

He started to laugh. “You see me, eh?” he said.

So Ricky comes in and he has this thing about keeping our chats to ourselves, meaning do not tell Quiet Man. I think it has something to do with Quiet Man telling me Ricky likes me.

“No,” said Ricky, “I will tell you what they think. They think we have something going on.”


“Yeah. That is what they think,” and he laughs.

Quiet Man and Fred asked Ricky if he knew where I lived. He said yes, he drives by almost everyday.

“Do you ever visit her?” they inquired of him.

“No,” he said.

But that was not juicy enough for them. Ricky said they are in some kind of life crisis or something like that thinking about sex all the time and imagining other people having sex.

Well I did not know if I agreed with that or not. Probably not.

I told Ricky I was dying for a nice smooth coffee. I was pretty tired and Quiet Man did not call.

“Do you want to have a coffee Ricky?”

“Yeah. But I have to go and see Fred first. I will meet you at Starbucks.”

“I want DD.”

“OK, but how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t tell them we met today.”

“OK, no problem.”

“Let me call Quiet Man first and see if he answers,” I told Ricky.

I rang him and it went to voice mail. I made Ricky hang out for a few minutes while we talked the logistics of getting a coffee and he called Quiet Man for me on his phone to see if he answered. He did after a good long ring. I rolled me eyes at Ricky and he rolled them right back to me.

“Ok, see you at Fred’s,” he said.

“OK, I will get my DD and you can go to Starbucks.”

So I go back into my office, come out again and get into my car.

I decided to go to McDonald’s for an iced coffee. I go around the drive through, wait on line and then started to drive out.

I see Quiet Man in a Lexus in front of me. What on earth was he doing there?

I got behind him and started honking the horn and yelling out the window at him to stop holding up the damned traffic. He is waving his hand out of the driver’s window. I laugh heartily, easily amused by my childish antics.

I follow him to Fred’s store. I park next to him and he gets out of the car laughing.

“Hello Muse,” he said rolling the R’s in my name in that deep guttural speech of his.

“Hello Quiet Man,” I replied, “You don’t answer the phone?”

“Oh Muse, I no answer because I am busy,” he started. I debated whether I should point out I knew he answered for Ricky about ten minutes later and decided against it because I told Ricky I would not divulge his coming to my office to say hello.

So we laughed. It was good for me to see him. I can’t help but let him be a tonic for me, a source of pleasantness I need.

“So what were you doing at McDonald’s?”

“Oh, Ricky tells me he was here buying coffee, but he was not, he at Starbucks, so I was leaving, Muse, to see Fred.”

“Oh,” I replied not really believing it. Why can’t he just admit he was probably eating lunch at McDonald’s? Such information certainly cannot be harmful, can it?

We go into Fred’s store and we go in to the sanctity of the back office. Ricky is there with him and he greets me as if he had not seen me ten minutes earlier.

“Hi Ricky, how nice to see you.”

“Hello, Muse, very nice to see you,” he says as he rises so that Quiet Man and I can sit together and he can continue on with Fred.

“So Muse, what you think?” is the first thing Fred wants to know.

So we discuss his dilemma while they drink Starbucks and I down my DD.

We decide we will go to support Fred later that afternoon with his problem as it was displayed in the local paper.

So Fred has to leave in a hurry. Quiet Man tells me to meet him at his office.

I arrive there and he is in the parking lot with Ricky. They are admiring a luxury car that Ricky was contemplating purchasing, noting he already has one in black.

“Quiet Man, Fred said we have to be there by 4:30, not 5:00 pm like you wanted. We will miss it.”

“No Muse, they start later.”

“No Quiet Man they are not.”

So after waiting for the bantering about this car between Quiet Man and Ricky, I drove with Quiet Man in my car to go and support Fred.

It was a boring conversation during the fifteen minute ride.

We arrive at where we were supposed to go. We sit in the back as planned and we see Fred walk down the aisle. Then we see the rest of them follow.

“Ah, Quiet Man, we missed it.”

So we go outside and see Fred. A reporter is there to speak to him.

The problem was not solved, it got worse.

So Quiet Man drives with Fred back to the store were we agree to go and talk. Fred was visibly upset.

Upon arriving at the store, we sat in the back, talking about what happened. We hash and re-hash it all around.

It was a little bit beyond 7 pm and we leave the store.

The three of us are standing on the sidewalk. It was kind of awkward. Fred was down in the dumps and Quiet Man was unsuccessful in bringing him out of it.

“Do you guys want to go and have a cup of coffee or something?” I asked, trying to see if Fred wanted to keep talking about it more.

“No, no, Muse, I will go home,” he said, ”You go with Quiet Man.”

“No, Freddy,” said Quiet Man, I go with you to give me ride to office.”

“Do you want me to give you a ride?” I asked him, seeing how Fred was not so enthusiastic about it.

“Yes Quiet Man, let Muse take you.”

“No Freddy,” began Quiet Man.

“Why not Quiet Man?” interrupted Fred.

Exacerbated, Quiet Man says, ”I have to talk to you about something.”

“What is your problem, Quiet Man?” I demanded, “Why don’t you just say that to begin with so we don’t have to guess?”

He smiled at me.

“Muse, I may call you to go have drink with Mr. Wrong later,” he said under his breath.

Whatever. That was my reaction.

“You no have date tonight, do you?” he continued?

“No, I don’t have a date tonight,” I said sarcastically.

So I hugged Fred goodbye because he was leaving on a trip the next night and I did not think I would see him the next day.

I get into my car and I was famished. I did not eat all day. I was supposed to go the gym, but decided I was too tired. I decided to go and get a grilled chicken snacker at McDonald’s without cheese. So I did.

I was going to go back to the office to do some work, eat my snacker and then decide what to do next.

I just pulled into my parking lot and my cell rings.

It was Quiet Man.


“Yes, Quiet Man?” I said, “Too bad I have not heard from you in so long.”

“Oh, whatever you say Muse,” he laughed.

“You want to have a drink with me?” he asked.

“Well why did you just not say that when I just saw you?”

“I no want Freddy to know. He ask questions.”

The second man today to keep a secret with me.

“OK, where do you want to go?” I had to now put my snacker in the fridge at the office because I did not want to take the time to brush my teeth.

We made plans to go to the next state to a nice place I have not been to, or at least since it changed hands. I was happy to be the guest of a man at an upscale bar. I drove to his office were he was waiting for me at my request so we could drive together. I hate walking into a bar to meet a man. I much rather arrive with him.

We arrive at the place. We park in tandem and he leads me to the front door. There was a man waiting to greet us as we enter.

“Good evening,” he says to me with a wide smile.

“Hello Gianni,” said Quiet Man to this person. He knew the blond haired man with a thick wave to his hair. He actually kind of reminded me of Kirstie Alley’s ex-husband, I forget his name.

“Gianni, this is my friend, Muse,” said Quiet Man.

I reached out to Gianni and firmly shook his hand as is my way. He had a wide and broad smile as he took my hand to greet me.

“A table, tonight, Quiet Man?”

“No, Gianni, we here for drink,” said Quiet Man, who is very gallant. He holds the door for me and he ushers me as if I was a delicate doll.

We seat ourselves at the bar. Quiet Man waits for me to seat myself on the barstools before he retires on one. Why does this man have to have such impeccable manners? Why is he so attentive to how to treat a woman as a lady? It confuses me, knowing him the way I do.

The bar also has a white linen restaurant. The lighting is seductively low, sleek and modernly attractive.

The bar is dark, shiny and sexy. There are three people present across to our right. An older couple and a man who appears well to do, sitting by himself. He is white haired and donning a cream sports coat with a pink striped open necked Polo long sleeved shirt. It was stiff with a buttoned down collar.

Quiet Man knows the bar tender.

“Allo, Carolina,” he says, “this is my friend, Muse,” he emphasizes.

She held her hand to mine. I was open, happy and forced myself to roll with this crap introduction. I was annoyed that I did not want a night of meeting people. I wanted to sit with him and drink. Talk to him and enjoy my friend, to whom I am utterly attracted.

“What you order, Muse?”

Earlier that day I had mentioned having Captain Morgan for the first time and was amazed that it was very smooth. I told him that my brother’s friend, who is interested in me, introduced me to the soothing stuff.

“I don’t know, Quiet Man, maybe Vodka, you know, it’s pretty much my drink.”

“You want Captain Morgan?”

“NO!” I scolded him, knowing his implication.

I ordered Belvedere on the rocks with a lemon and lime. He finally orders Bacardi and Coke and had to settle for Bacardi Gold and Coke.

We sat under the soft glow of the bar lights. He tells myself and then verified with Carolina various mish mashes of information about Mr. Wrong wanting her, or that the Dentist (who is repulsive to me) likes Carolina.

“Is her second job a stripper?” I interrupted him.

“No. She probation officer.”

So he leans into me to assess the other patrons. I sense he knows all of them. Of course he does. He is an Aquarius. They know all sorts of people. Carolina told us she was a Scorpio. No wonder she kept her distance with the inquiring Aquarian.

“Muse, you been here before?” I already told him this when he picked the place, but when it had a different name and owner. It was a while ago, about two years or more.

“Yes, I told you that.”

“You come here with boyfriend, no?”

“Yes,” I whined, “I told you that before.”

The Vodka was running through my veins at a rapid pace; not having ate, it took a good hold.

He wants to order something to eat.

He calls Gianni over to tell me what they had. I did not want anything I told him.

“How you no want, Muse? It is very good. Prosciutto, you want Prosciutto?”

“No. Get what you want.”

So he orders some elaborate dish. It comes with two tiny crostini with a bruschetta like topping, but it was not runny and the parsley, tomatoes and onion was so neatly and finely chopped it looked like teeny tiny building blocks.

“I no touch Muse,” he indicated to the tomato.

“Oh, I see,” I said to him, ”I will eat it for sure and then breathe on you.”

He despises onions. I informed Gianni of this who was quick to want to remove them so not to offend Quiet Man.

“No, Gianni, you leave here. I no touch. Muse eat.”

So he ate the thinly sliced ham with his fingers.

I pushed it around with my fork. He was encouraging me to ingest it, but if I ate anything, the Vodka would return it, I told him.

We were getting quite drunk at this point. My Vodka glass was a wonderful globe like work of art. It was delivered to me filled to the brim, with delicate ice cubes floating in it as it they were created for the glass. I was poking the bottom of the glass with my red swizzler stick, piercing the lemon and lime rinds floating around in my glass.

Quiet Man was to my right. I was wearing high heeled boots with flared pants with embroidered patterns around my hips and my ass. I had on a crew cut butter yellow long sleeved top that was loosely cut after it tapers from the around the waist line. It hugged my bust line nicely, showing it off. The yellow matched the yellow in the embroidery that graced the sage color of my pants.

I mostly sat crossed legged at the bar. He was mostly standing next to me.

He dialed Mr. Wrong, who I did not in particular want to see. Earlier in the day I had questioned Quiet Man about what was the fascination with he and Mr. Wrong? I accused him of being gay, which usually gets to him.

“Muse, Mr. Wrong is nice man,” he said, “He is good, good man.”

“So what. Why are you always with him? It is kind of sickening that you both go to the strip club.”

“No, we go different places Muse. Last night we drink at bar and he had fun telling me stories from college and he sing songs.”

“What, he sang songs to you?”

“He has nice voice, Muse.”

“Do you hear how you make it sound?”

“We drink and he sing.”

What he meant was they were rip roaring drunk and they sang god knows what, like two drunken sailors.

“You know, Mr. Wrong wishes he could divorce wife. But he has no chance.”

“Why? Mrs. Wrong has no clue either that her husband apparently feels this way.”

“The girl, she is still young. He no want to hurt her,” he said as he gutturally pronounced the ‘u’ and rolled the ‘r’ in hurt. The wrongs have a teenage daughter. Quiet Man calls her the girl.

So Mr. Wrong answers.

Quiet Man then puts his head to mine so our faces are touching so I can hear Mr. Wrong talk to Quite Man, who thinks his conversation is private.

I cannot help but notice how soft his face felt on mine. Wisps of his hair brushed against my forehead. I was not that interested in what Mr. Wrong was saying until I heard that he was unable to meet us, er, Quiet Man.

Quiet Man tells me he will not come because Mrs. Wrong is home and expects him to be as well. Little does she know how much Mr. Wrong does want to come and see Carolina, you know, the object of his current desire.

I asked Quiet Man about Belina, the other object of his affection, supposedly. He had this big explanation about it but it was not that interesting, and in the middle of it I interrupted him.

“Well, according to Dane, Quiet Man, you had something with Belina.”

He stepped back to look at me. I was giggling.

“Muse!” he said “Belina is my friend.” And with that I had to rehear about how they became friends, she knew no one and he helped her find her way. He had to remind me how much Belinda likes myself and my mother.

“Yes, yes, I know Quiet Man. I am not saying I do not like her, I do. You know what I mean.”

“Whatever you say Muse,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. When he says that, whether in jest or in annoyance, it usually means he will not argue with me and let me make any and all accusations to which he will pleasantly agree.

As the banter between us grew, we laughed hysterically together. We feed off of each other like moths to flames. He is a welcoming recipient to my issues, my barbs in jest, my one up on you remarks. He laughs and in intervals, returns my volleys.

So we are interrupted by the man in the Polo Shirt.

“Quiet Man, how are you tonight?” he shouts over.

“I am fine, Jules,” said Quiet Man, “I want to introduce you to my friend, Muse.”

“What are you doing with such a beautiful woman?” demands Jules. He was quite large, but with a nice face.

I rolled my eyes. These gratuitous remarks between men, a showing of respect. The top dog game.

Quiet Man holds his hand towards me as if he was on the Price is Right, showing off his wares.

“She is beautiful, no?” he said proudly.

So after the fanfare, the peacock show, the couple sitting next to Jules, seemed odd. Quiet Man whispers to me he will tell me later who they are. Which he did. It was the sister of the woman who cuts his hair.

“You remember Muse, the boy I had call you? That is aunt.”

Geez, what a freaking side show. I am thinking his wife is going to find out and get the wrong impression, well at least about me. I don’t even know if those people know Mrs. Quiet Man. I decided to not think about that.

Quiet Man taps my forearm gently.

“Muse, I go out. I come back.”

He was going to for a smoke. He is a chimney, poor thing.

“So, I heard what you do for a living,” pipes in Jules.

We learned prior that he was a Taurus. Quiet Man said, “Muse, you believe in that?”

“No, I just like to see if the personality trait is on or off, and it usually is on. It has served me well.”

He did not believe. So I said, listen, I will tell you what that Jules is like.

The love of food for a Taurean can be legendary. I explained to him I dated one for a very long time and went into explanations about dating one.

“You call boyfriend Muse, he no like me, no Muse?”

“No, Quiet Man, he does not like you, but I am not dating him.”

As we were chatting, we see the kitchen send out plates and plates of food. They placed them around Jules.

I poked Quiet Man and we laughed. He could not believe it. I told him to watch the way he ate. It would be delicate and deliberate or shoveled in. It was delicate. Jules was savoring every morsel. His eyes rolled in his head.

“Oh Muse, you are right,” laughed Quiet Man. We tried to keep it between ourselves, but Quiet Man was pretty loud.

We interrupted Jules’s eating, which is not a good thing. I was annoyed with him that he was trying to hit on me when Quiet Man was out smoking.

“Muse, you have a card?”


“Well I do. I will give you two,” he said, you can write your information on the other and hand it back.”

So I did, because Quiet Man was not there and I needed something to do.

When Quiet Man returned, I filled him in. “I know, Muse, when I go, he talk to you. I know.”

Jules was not my type. He boasted about his wealth. Like I cared. He flattered himself. For all his efforts, which any effort on the part of a Taurean man towards any female, be sure it is energy not wasted. If they like you, it is obvious. And Jules was obvious.

Jules was also pretty controlling, believing I should be going along with him and his idea of me or whatever he was trying to discuss with me during the short smoke breaks Quiet Man was taking.

Knowing how to anger a Taurean, I snapped hard at him, directly and bluntly. He rudely throws his hand up at me to tell me, you don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.

Fine, I said to him, I am not the one trying to talk to me, you are. Like I would back down from him.

He turned his immense girth to the side so he was not looking at me. The poor chair was all I thought.

Quiet Man returns and we ignored him. I told Quiet Man that always happens to me. I always attract that type of man. If there is a Taurean male within eye shot of me, be sure they will trot their immense chest like figures towards me.

So Jules become emboldened. These men are quite stubborn when they want something or someone. There is not much difference in their minds.

“Ah, you know, Muse,” he geared up to try and trample me, the typical Taurean male reaction to not getting their own way when they care to do something about it, ”I am not the one here who is with a married man.”

He thought his aim was sharp and deep.

“Since you failed to understand it the first time, I will explain it again to you: I am his friend,” I said loudly while looking directly at him. “You don’t know me from Adam, and you think you can tell me about myself and him? You yourself just boasted you are married with six girlfriends, and looking at you, god know what they look like.”

He just looked at me. So I continued on.

“If you can’t understand the concept of a friend, which obviously cannot, since you find it acceptable to have six girlfriends when you have one wife, keep your unwanted assumptions to yourself.”

“I speak from experience,” he bellowed, “I know what I am looking at here.”

Of course Quiet Man is outside smoking and he comes in and Jules stops. I tell Quiet Man and he laughs. I told him I can handle myself.

So Jules decides to talk to Carolina. Quiet Man and I are watching. We continue to drink.

Jules seeing me and Quiet Man enjoying each other, just talking and laughing, decides again to address me.

“Carolina is one of my girlfriends,” he announces, quite proud of himself.

“Really?” I mocked.

“From the neck up,” he motions using his hand, trying to be charming.

“Prove it. Ask her,” I told him.

“Ya, ya, Muse,” I hear Quiet Man comment.

So he asks her and she blandly agrees with him. He found satisfaction, so he thought.

“But she will never be your girlfriend from the neck down!” I yelled over to him.

After that, he left me alone.

“Allo?” I hear.

“Who are you calling now?”

“Ricky,” he said with the heavily rolled R.


I was getting very drunk by now, the Vodka was strong.

Quiet Man had long finished his Barcardi. He then found out from Carolina that there was no more Bacardi in the place. He decided to drink what I was drinking. He previously took a taste.

He gets his and is disgusted. It has a bad, strong taste, he said. Well, it is straight Vodka pretty much. You need to squirt the citrus in there, I told him as I did it for him.

“Sorry, I put my fingers in there, by mistake,” I told him.

“I no care, Muse. Put your whole hand.”

“Oh, you are sick,” I told him, smiling sideways to him.

He took another sip and it was not to his liking.

“Well what kind of woos are you? I can drink this and you cannot?”

“Ok, I finish Muse.”

So he did. When it was time to get the next drink, after much fan fare, he orders the Vodka again.

I was putting on my Dior lipstick in light pink. Carolina seems fascinated by it, why was I doing that?

“It is very moisturizing,” I informed.

I slathered it on for effect.

Jules was watching me across the bar.

“It is very light, but it makes your lips sparkle,” said Carolina.

It must have caught Jules’ eye.

Quiet Man’s phone is ringing. He talks for a while and says, here, you talk to her.

I motioned to try and find out who it is, but he shoved the phone at me.

Freddy, mouthed Quiet Man. Fred called in; Fred who Quiet Man did not want to know we were together.

“Oh, hi Fred, “ I said, trying to not be obvious, “How are you?”

“I am Ok, Muse,” he said.

“I wish you were with us,” I said to salve his ego and make him feel better.

“I do too,” he said.

And then I gave him back to Quiet Man. The weirdo.

Jules decided to leave the bar with his numerous doggie bags. He made a quiet exit.

Ricky then rang and he was lost. Carolina was trying to get Quiet Man’s attention when he was chatting with me, but he ignored her. I had to tell him, they were changing bar tenders, she had to go home.

So Ricky arrives and we have a chatty male bartender, who Quiet Man also knows. It is at this time that Quiet Man is very drunk and loud and attentive to me. The bartender was hanging out with us when I wished he would leave. Ricky orders a merlot. Quiet Man teases him about it, being a girly drink. It was well past ten at this point.

During the night, especially when Jules was entertaining us with trying to hit on me, Quiet Man was making me crazy. I had to act like nothing was going on. I had to ignore his hands running their way around my back. He gripped the ends of my hair that sat hovering over my ass, in his fingers, stating he loved that head of hair. To whom he was talking to I don’t know. He was just talking.

When I first feel his hand slip into my waist band, I almost jumped. The waist band on my slacks sat on my hips. His hand was smooth. He would run his hand in and out of my waist band and sometimes run it up the side of my exposed hip to my waist, as we spoke to each other. He would pivot his fingers on the small of my back, then open his palm to place it on my skin. His hand was smooth and rough in a manly sort of way. It was kind and gentle. He massaged me with his hand, by gently running his hand back and forth. It was not sexual in any way, but comforting and protective. He was so comfortable with it, as if we were together.

I enjoyed the smoothness of his hand. I enjoyed when he grabbed my shoulder and would pull me towards his side to hug me. I enjoyed looking into his eyes and laughing. I was just enjoying this man pay attention to me by holding onto me as if I were his.

I know I cannot be nor could he be mine. I am fine with that, but because he shows me affection, does not mean I have to reject it.

Whether that changes ever, will be an incontrollable, guilty act. This is the temptation I try to over come.

I do not know what he was thinking because I acted as if he never touched me. I continued on as if he was keeping his hands to himself. He continued on the same. It was like the white elephant in the room about his desire to touch me.

So Ricky is with us and we begin to joke with each other. We squeal at a cleverness only drunks know about. Quiet Man begins to speak about me.

“Muse, I wish you were my wife!”

Holy shit, what is he doing?

“Muse is beautiful giurrl. No Ricky?”

“Yes, she is!” agreed Ricky.

Quiet Man then tells Ricky what Jules was doing.

“What you do, Ricky, if you were here?”

“I would have told him to stop insulting my wife!”

And they squeal with laughter. I laughed too.

Quiet Man admits he was attracted to me the first time he laid eyes on me. He tells me that Bobble Head asked him what he found attractive about me.

I was pissed. He never told me he spoke to Bobble Head about this at all. I quiz him and he tells me it was probably during New Years.

“I say to Bobble Head, Ricky,” he told Ricky, “Muse is very sexy woman. I like the way Muse’s body is, it is very sexy. I like Muse’s way of moving. I like way Muse looks, I tell Bobble Head.”

Ricky is laughing. He is humoring his drunk friend. He gives me an acknowledging wink.

I start to interrogate Quiet Man. I was furious he was creating an impression I did not want. I am sure his reasons for telling Bobble Head this was to direct his remarks about me to Flat Foot. So does he think how does it look for a married man to be saying these things? Well, according to him, in that group, they all check out each other’s wives and they have a favorite they want to bang. It is sick, so they may not think anything of it at all.

“Muse,” he says, feeling emboldened. He had his hand in my waist band again. He began to gently squeeze my skin.

“What!” I say back to him.

He then grabs me from my seat, he pulls me towards him, his grip around my hips and runs his hands across my stomach. I was shocked. I could not believe this man.

He places me between his legs. I am sure he wanted me to press up against his groin. Not that I did not think of that myself.

I had to keep reminding myself I am just his friend. His friend.

I wanted to lean into him, hold his head in my hands and relentlessly tease him to the point where he would take charge and make me pant by anticipating his kiss. At the thought of his breathe on mine, I began to swoon.

Collecting my thoughts, I laughed. He was staring at me. I had Ricky to my left. He did not raise an eyebrow to my current position between Quiet Man’s legs. His thigh was feeling pretty good to me right then and there, but I had to eradicate any erotic thoughts. How I longed to touch him back, to touch his cheek to mine, hold his face and look into his eyes, letting him do whatever he wanted. I didn’t let it happen.

So I decided when I was finished thinking things I should not, I stepped back and he let me out from between his legs.

I stood next to him. We began to argue like two bantering lovers. The suggestive rants where thrashed back and forth. The sexual electricity was firing from end to end.

Ricky shook his head and told us, “I don’t know how you two don’t love each other.”

We continued to tease each other. My hand was leaning on his leg or his was on mine. He would laugh and grab my head and look into my eyes, his forehead on mine. He would then release me to look at me.

I had on more of the pink Dior lipstick. I was wondering if he liked it or not. I certainly did. As I was thinking of what it would be like to kiss this man, I had my lips slightly parted and my eyes slinking into a sultry state.

Quiet Man who was standing up by now, looking at me, without warning, grabs my head with his hands. He pulls me towards him and kisses me open mouthed.

I felt his lips part as I refused to open mine. He was kissing me with my mouth closed. I could not believe he was doing this. He kisses me none the less. I felt his moist and soft lips on mine. He then pulls back.

Uh OH.

All I could do was act like it did not happen. Ricky saw it. The bartender saw it, but I did not care. It did not happen.

After a while, Quiet Man, who took a sip of his drink, looks down at me, and says “Muse! what kind of lipstick you have?” as he wipes his mouth, apparently not liking the taste of Dior pink.

“The kind you wanted,” I told him laughing. What can you say to a man who just grabbed you and kissed you like that?

He must think me so odd; he makes a move and I stand there like a dead woman. I refuse to open my mouth, or kiss him back.

I think that if he did that in private, it would have been a different story. I do not know if I could not kiss him back. If I did, I know it would not end there. So, in a way, it was good the way he did it-so it would not get worse.

We end up leaving the bar since they were closing. Ricky was our designated driver. He has a big truck with a full back seat. We both sat in the back.

“Ricky, you must really feel like a taxi man,” I said.

“Guys, can someone please sit in the front!” pleads Ricky.

“No, Ricky, I stay with Muse!”

So we sat. Quiet Man had busy hands back there. He finally decided to lay his head on my lap. I could not help but hold his chest or stroke his soft hair. I wanted to kiss him as if he was my child. An innocent kiss. But I did not. He held my hand on his chest for a while, until he decided to answer Ricky’s pleas for where we were headed.

To the strip club of course!

I told him I was not going there.

“Muse, where else can you get drink in this city at this time of night?”

“I don’t care.”

By this time, Ricky had his truck parked in the lot for the strip club.

Quite Man pleads with me to go in. I would not budge. We run through my reasons. He pleads, “Muse, you will be with two men, they no think nothing of you.”

“I don’t care. I am not going. Ricky, will you please explain to him what I mean?”

So Ricky explains. Quiet Man is now out of the truck. He explains he just wants a drink. I don’t care.

He begins to pull me out of the cab by my feet until he can grip my calf.

He finally understands I will not go.

“You stay in truck then, that is what you are saying?”

“Yes, I will stay in the truck. You go in.”

“No, I want you go with me. We have a drink and we leave.”


So he gets back into the truck and we decide to go eat eggs at the diner.

The diner. Do you think we had a fun waitress? No. We get the freaking ugly assed miserable pork chop, for those of you who don’t know, it’s a Portugese.

Quiet Man is still a little drunk and he sits next to me. He has his arm around the top of the booth above me. He runs his hands up and down my thigh that is closest to him. He plays with my hair. If my legs are crossed he slips his fingers between my thighs just enough so they are held. I continue on as if he is not doing any of these things, regardless of all the old bitties watching him caress me. Some of those women decide to flirt with my handsome Quiet Man. Well, he is not mine, but he is in a weird way. I felt comforted while his arm was around me, my head, if I so chose, fitting snugly underneath his arm into his armpit.

He is polite to those ladies, but he like I, does not care to be interrupted by strangers when we do not want to talk to them.

So on the way back to get our cars, he sat in the front seat. He reached his hand back to grab onto my legs. He reached further and gripped my thigh, squeezing it. He was conversing with Ricky who probably knew what he was doing. He kept driving and talking. Mainly, he was holding my hand, rubbing my palms, intertwining his fingers in mine, rubbing my fingertips between his or holding my cupped hand in his. He was feeling the smoothness of my fingertips. I would run my smaller hand into his palm. The soothing relief it was to have his hand in mine was a good tonic for me. It released my worries for the moment. It upped my confidence, knowing his attraction to me. Regardless of its consummation, I know he wants me and for now, it is enough.

After a while, I would reach over him in the front seat. He was now speaking politics to the point Ricky and I could not stand it any more.

So I place my hands gently over his mouth as if to make him stop talking. He holds my hands with his while kissing the inside of my hands. His lips and soft and velvety. I remove my hands from his mouth and I stroke his hair as we are riding down the highway to where we had our cars.

We pull into the parking lot next to where we parked. We continued to talk for a good while. Quiet Man kept his grip on my hands and legs. When I felt him release, I knew he was ready to go.

To my surprise, he leaves the truck and gets into his car. He does not wait for me to finish talking to Ricky. He has his door open and says goodbye to me from there. How odd. I smile and wave goodbye. He smiles back.

As I follow Ricky to the highway, I see Quiet Man drive away in the opposite direction. My cell rings.

It is Ricky. He talked to me until I was safely inside my home.

He is a sweetheart all around. That is why I tell Fred and Quiet Man I ‘love’ Ricky.