Underneath Your Clothes

How We Got Here

 The place was packed tonight. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air and the bar was hot. I finished the last of my drink and put my cigarette out in the ashtray before me. I was a little dizzy as I stood up from the bar and pushed the barstool in beneath. The bartender wiped the area where I was sittin’ as another patron quickly took my seat. I had already paid my tab. I usually didn’t sit at the bar, but tonight it’s where I ended up.

 People were beginning to filter out of the bar. But plenty more remained drinkin’, dancin’, smokin’ or hookin’ up with whomever was willing. There were half empty beer mugs and mostly full ash trays on nearly every table I passed. Some people, both male and female made eyes with me. I didn’t exactly reciprocate the glances. Some of them may have seen me here before since I had become a regular in the past three months. Furthermore, there were some here who knew who I was and why I hung out here every other Saturday into the wee hours of the mornin’.  As I slowly made my way through the bar, I suddenly felt my right shoulder coated in liquid.

  “Oh, terribly sorry, miss. I’m sorry…if it weren’t for this dumbass bloke!” the man was clearly drunk as I had been covered in what was left of his beer. I smiled a bit nervously.

  “S’alright.” I answered though I don’t know if the man actually heard me. I continued to push forward through the sea of people. There were couples makin’ out along the wall, some of them a little more into it than others. The bar was dark and the occasional flashing lights helped me determine a path. I was headed toward the stairs to the left of the stage. I looked up, noticing only the backlighting illuminated as equipment was being dismantled. I managed to work my way closer, still maneuvering the people leavin’, those stayin’, and the smoke being blown into my face. I finally caught sight of an illuminated exit sign. I was close. I could feel my heart start to beat a little faster.

 Maybe it was the alcohol, but mostly it was because this was all still very new to me and I wasn’t sure what it was or where it was goin’. It didn’t really matter because I liked it. It had only been three months and in those three months, I had spent nearly every day with him. I was in university full time but I can say that while I was in class, instead of takin’ notes in art history…I was sketching his eyes. I was very scheduled oriented but he had nearly no schedule at all so he was always willin’ to do whatever it took to see me. “He” was Roger. Even though it had been some time and I was comfortable in my own with him; I still got chills over me when I’d go meet him after a show. Tonight was no different. He would always stop what he was doin’ when he saw me and run over to me as if I were gonna’ leave if he didn’t.

  I didn’t know who he was or what he did when I met him. I was here at the bar one night with some friends and we stepped outside for a smoke. He had been standin’ with a group of guys and came over to me to bum a cigarette. It was early in the evenin’. We shared a smoke and started talkin’. That’s when he told me his name was Roger and that he was a drummer. I learned his band played here every other Saturday. I remember taking a drag on my cigarette and answering him. I told him my name was Lydia and that I worked in an art gallery part time while attending university. Told him I was an art major. He persuaded me to stay that night and watch his band play. I politely declined, though it was partly a lie. I could have easily stayed but my friends and I were leavin’ soon to have some wine at my flat. I hated to bail on them for some guy I didn’t even know. We continued to talk for a long while as we burned through our cigarette. As I stood there, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his smile was. I blushed because I found myself starin’ a bit too much. He had put his cigarette out once it was burned down and told me he had to go get set up. Roger asked me for my telephone number that night and if he could call me sometime.  Said he’d like to get to know me better. I remember smilin’ stupidly and I gave him my number. That didn’t happed to me much. He was almost too easy on the eyes for comfort so I never expected him to call…but he did…the very next day.

  It started innocently enough, with trips to the café for a coffee and a smoke, or going out to listen to other bands play. A few times he even surprised me with lunch at the university between classes or at the gallery, which I found incredibly sweet.  It wasn’t long before I started goin’ to his flat. We’d put on a record and lay on the couch and smoke a joint; maybe have a beer or something. Sometimes we’d get really high and laugh ourselves absolutely stupid. We never ran out of things to say. Neither of us would shut up in private or public. We got kicked out of my university library once for talkin’ too loudly…and him practicin’ his drum parts on the table didn’t help. After seein’ him for a couple weeks we listenin’ to the Moody Blues and ended up makin’ out. I still felt like a bit of a stranger in his flat at that point…like an accessory that didn’t belong here. But then a couple weeks later, that changed…

 I slept with him quickly. Maybe it was a bad thing, doin’ it so soon…or maybe it wasn’t. He was so gorgeous, so sexy, just irresistible…and...well…I already had developed an appetite for Roger that was certain.  Like I had said, that was three months ago. Now…tonight….three months, thirteen days later; I was wadin’ through the crowd to find to him.