FRICTIONLESS

In the midst of the music, I sidled up to her. She had entranced me all evening. That green dress, those slender tense arms. I signalled the bar for a gin fizz, leant back against the marble, feeling her subtle heat at my arm, taking in a cool view of the room. I’ve taken the liberty, I said, of ordering you a drink. She looked over slowly, as if to process every part of me. A chill ran up my arms. Oh you don’t want to get to know me, she said. I’m frictionless. Her voice was like filtered air. I said, Let me be the judge of that. The gin fizz arrived, and I pushed it towards her, with one finger, leaving a faint trail of condensation on the bar. Trust me, she cooed, moving her body away from the drink. Frictionless, I said. I think I can handle that. I spun my torso with practiced ease. I’m pretty light on my feet myself. She raised a single eyebrow. Alright, she said. Kiss me then. I coughed slightly. Pardon? Kiss me, she said again, turning back. If you can kiss me I’ll take you home. Never being one to back down from a challenge, I leant in towards her, cupping a palm against her cheek. Suddenly, my arm had shot out behind her head. I moved in again, with the same result. Perturbed, and slightly embarrassed, I tried to grab her face with both hands and kiss her full on the lips. The last thing I remember is the taste of cherry, and the horrific sound of my teeth hitting the tiled floor.