This bar is clouded with smoke, and you can smell the liquor on the breaths of the people lingering around it.
The jukebox plays a tune with the perfect amount of guitar, bass and drums. Just the way I like it.
I don't usually hang out in bars. I prefer to drink alone or with someone I can fool around with later, but that doesn't happen often because I'm not one to sleep around.
And as I stand with my mates, I look out into the middle of the bar, and I see her. Arabella. The girl I have written up. She's wearing her signature look, but she takes off her big furry coat and someone hangs it for her. She gives them a smile, and I can't stop staring at what a beauty she is in her little black dress, her sleeve of tattooes visible.
The blokes push on my shoulder and shove me forward, trying to get me to approach her. She's smirking at me, giving me the eyes as she holds her pool cue, like she /wants/ me to come over.
I finally get the guts to and she turns around from the game to look at me just as I approach her.
"Look who finally stepped up. Want to join the game?" She asks.
I nod, and one of the guys playing tosses me a pool cue.
Damn, the girl is good at pool. Makes me wonder if she spends a lot of time here playing. As she takes her turn, hunched over the table as she lines up her cue with the white ball, practically all the men are staring at that perfect arse of hers. The possessive side of me is a bit angry, but I'm unaware that I'm in a dream and I forget that she is technically mine and no one else can have her anyway.
She makes the last hit and wins herself the game. After the people in the bar cheer a little bit, she grins and nods at them. Then she turns to me and sticks her hand out for me. I shake it, and her skin is soft as silk. It fits perfectly in mine, which makes me wonder what else of hers would fit perfectly with mine.
"Good game. Want a drink?" I say. And we sit at the bar.
Arabella tells me stories. Stories that she could have made up, or could possibly be real. I can never tell if their fictional or not because she never says so and her life is just so interesting that anything could happen. And I'm allowed to brag about that because I made her.
She reaches her hand over to hold my cheek in it. Once again I feel the softness. God bless those gentle hands. She leans in and I feel the sensation of her lips on mine. Her kiss really is amazing, although I've felt it so many times before in other dreams, it never gets old. I still crave it every time I see her. Every time I think of her. I can't help myself.
I wake up and realize.
I'm in love with a girl I've created in my mind. And this is probably the 18th time I have seen her in my dreams. I get out of bed and go to my typewriter.