He reached over and scratched his face, his nail digging a small red spot into his cheek. His lips squeezed between his teeth and his fingers crossed over his mouth. He obviously had something to say.
“It’s not that I’m not interested,” he started “but it’s more that I’m uncertain.”
Uncertain of what, I asked.
Lips squeezed between his teeth again.
“It’s hard to say. I mean, who are we really when you look at it? In the grand scheme of things, where do we fit? Where do I fit? Is there actually a point to it all? We become so wrapped up in what we do, what we want, what we need, that we forget to step back and consider.”
Consider what, I asked.
“Is it all worth it? This worry, this trouble, this hassle. Is it really all worth it? Or is it just a distraction to keep us occupied, to keep our minds focused on something else?”
I leaned back in my seat and stared at the wall. He was boring. This whole scene was boring. His mouth kept moving but the words drilled through my ears, leaking out of my opened mouth. A Sharpie-marked scribble on the ceiling caught my attention. I don’t know how it got up there, but the author was clearly reading my mind.
This.
Is.
Stupid.
Oh good god. He was still talking.
“See, what it comes down to is the importance of self-awareness. You need to know these things. You need to understand your surroundings.”
I wondered if he understood how badly I wanted to jam a couple of pencils in my ears. There was a piece of something stuck between his two front teeth, possibly spinach, possibly parsley. Two white flecks of spit gathered in the corners of his mouth. I stared and wondered how long it would be before they grew so big they’d spill right over and dribble down his chin.
“Are you listening?” He snapped his fingers at me and it took everything I had not to stab at his hand with my fork. My eyes scanned the room for an escape route. There was a door, but he was in the direct path.
“It’s a matter of realizing the importance of being present at all times. If you’re not present, you’re not there, you know? And if you’re not there, you’re not here, and if you’re not here, well, then, what’s the point?”
Spittle finally dripped down his chin as he laughed softly to himself. He reached up and absently wiped it, and then looked right at me.
“Your shoulders look really tanned.”
Oh shit. I knew what was coming next. His tongue dashed out from his mouth, white from dehydration, and he slowly licked his lips in a manner anything but seductive. I prayed, please, please don’t. Save us both from the horrific embarrassment that is bound to ensue.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth curled into some semblance of a coy smile.
“Does the tan go all the way down?”
Balls.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, face cupped in his hand. He wasn’t that close but I could still see the hairs in his nostril waving back and forth as his breath whistled in and out through his nose. The wrinkles around his eyes were caked in sleep from the night before. I could smell him from here, an acrid smell, an odour that you would smell on your clothes after walking through a pulp mill. He was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. We sat in silence for 35 seconds. I counted.
“I mean,” his tongue snaking out between his lips again,” you’re not really the type I usually go for. But I’d be willing to give it a shot. You look like you might be a *ahem* bit of a wild ride.”
He looked at me as if he expected me to rip off my clothes and beg him to take me right there on the table so I could prove him right. I rolled my eyes. 42 seconds of silence.
He cleared his throat.
“Usually I like girls with a little more of an ass on them. But you, you’ve got it up here and that’s just fine.” He chuckled as he grabbed at his flaccid man-boobs.
I crossed my legs and adjusted my skirt. his eyes widened. I leaned back and crossed my arms, waiting for the next gem to spill from his mouth.
He smiled, a wide grin. That piece of green was still stuck between his two front teeth.
“And you obviously need a good rattling to clear that stick out of your ass. I’d be happy to give it to you. Like I said, not usually my type, but I am willing to make an exception.”
And there it was, an emerald falling straight from his teeth and into my lap. I cleared my throat. He moved his napkin to the other side of the table. 22 seconds of silence had passed when I smiled, leaned forward, and asked
“Do you know what a Palm Civet is?”
He shook his head and then giggled. Irritating.
“A Palm Civet is an Indonesian creature that’s sort of a cross between a monkey and a cat. They’re tree-dwelling, which is important because they’re vital in the production of Kopi Luwak. Do you know what Kopi Luwak is?
He shook his head again. I put my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. He dragged his eyes from my cleavage long enough to look up at my face.
“Kopi Luwak is one of the world’s most expensive varieties of coffee. What happens is the Palm Civet eats the coffee berries from the trees because of their delicious fleshy pulp. I’d imagine it’s probably a pretty good mouth feel, slurping that slippery sweet flesh from the beans, rolling it between their tongue and their teeth.”
I slowly ran my tongue over my lips and then my teeth. He shifted in his seat.
“Once the beans are in the Civet’s stomach,the wonder of biology takes over, and enzymes are used to change the make up of the coffee beans. The beans are then defecated throughout the forests. People will then go, scoop up the shit, wash, dry, and roast it. There’s a website where you can by this coffee for 320 dollars a pound. Can you believe it? 320 dollars.”
His nose wrinkled. This was clearly not the conversation he had been expecting.
“Here’s something else interesting about the Civets. They have a chemical defense system. When they’re threatened, or when they’re upset, they emit what’s been described as a nauseating secretion from their anal scent glands. I suppose that as far as the world of animal warfare goes, it’s not the most fatal defense system, but it’s something.”
I leaned forward again, my face close enough to his that we could have reached out and caressed each others’ cheeks. I could see my reflection in his beady little eyes. Sweat started popping up between the wrinkles in his forehead. I smiled and lowered my voice so he would have to lean in even closer. I could smell his breath. He needed water.
“Richard,” I said, “I would gladly pull those coffee beans from that Civet’s glandy little butthole, with my teeth no less, if it meant I would never have to see you again.”
I stood up. His face crumpled. He sighed and reached up to touch my arm as I walked away.
“Well… can I at least see your tits before you go?”
pinion's opinions 