The more I thought about it, the better it sounded.
Living off the grid far from civilization was an attractive alternative to living in a cardboard box behind a Safeway Supermarket.
"One is for you and the other two are honor guards for the dead soldiers," he pointed to the two empty glasses. "Okay Dennis, that was a twofer," the book she was reading sailed across the room, missing my head by less than an inch. " Her smile was a weird combo of mischief and annoyance. She collected orgasms like some folks collected postage stamps.
Through the process of elimination, we had become drinking buddies at our local tavern. More often than not, we were the last people still standing when the barkeep bellowed out, "Last call for alcohol! The tavern, built in the 1890s, featured a Walnut and Mahogany bar with an odd little ' L' shaped hook at the far corner of the saloon.
I braced myself for her answer, "What kind of Hippy Village are we talking about? They owe me some money, maybe we can stay with them." "What's their address?
" If you learn where someone lives, you can start to make good guesses as to their culture. The closer to the road, the more connected they were to conventional reality.
She sparkled like a diamond in a coal bin and scared the shit out of the men she approached. As Darlene studied me, her dark look of frustration gradually brightened, and her eyes sparkled as her grim expression transformed into the predatory smile of a fox. I answered by placing my hand on her knee and mirrored her journey of exploration. Neither of us cared to invest the necessary time to search for the perfect partner, so we settled for close enough for right now.
If anything, she was too beautiful and too self-assured. After we moved in together, I would joke that I was 'robbing the cradle' when I took her to bed.
Thank you," Darlene frowned as she hung up the phone.