The
lights dimmed and the owner of the club stepped onto the small stage
to introduce the first act. The comedian took the stage and started
talking. He was moderately funny, but Magda didn't really even crack
a smile after the first few minutes. As they were sitting right by
the stage, her silence was fairly obvious and it was making the
comedian nervous, throwing off his timing.
"Hey,
lady, do you have a problem with me?" He stepped forward,
pointing at Magda. His New Jersey accent wasn't entirely for his act.
"I'm working hard up here."
"My
English is not so good. I not understand you."
Drew
wanted to laugh at the exchange, but the set of Magda's shoulders
told him not to.
"This
your boyfriend?"
"This
is only our first date—well, unless you count yesterday. Can we
count that?" Drew asked Magda. "You know, at the beach?"
"Oh,
no we can't count that. I was unconscious most of the time."
There
was scattered laughter.
"What's
your name, honey?"
"Magda,"
she enunciated clearly.
"And
your date?"
"Drew."
"You're
a big, jacked guy. What you do for a living, Drew?"
"I'm—um—a
lifeguard."
"You
had to think about that? How hard is it to say lifeguard? Duh! So,
are the chicks all built like Baywatch babes?"
"Most
of the guards on this beach are built more like me."
"Shit,
that's some ugly women!"
"He
means they're guys, moron," another customer heckled.
"I
knew dat—," the comedian said loudly. "So, Drew, the
um—lifeguard. How'd you meet?"
"I
rescued her."
"Huh?
I would have loved to see that. Blond Bomber going after Russian Red.
Must have been a sight to see. Where you from, um—Lifeguard?"
"Grew
up around here, Funny Boy. You?"
"Jersey."
He held his arms out waiting for the cheers. There weren't any. "You
know what we call folks from Florida up in Jersey? Crackers. Bam!"
He said it like it was the worst insult in the world.
A
huge man who'd been on the football team in high school, stood up
nearly knocking over his table. "You know what we Crackers call
you folks from Jersey?"
The
comedian looked rather intimidated. "Uh—uh—."
"Lunch!"
He came at the stage like The Terminator.
The
comedian dropped the microphone with an electronic squeal and ran
from the stage toward the accordion doors separating them from the
restaurant. The Terminator didn't change direction. He went to
the stage, picked up the microphone, pointing to the comedian who had
finally opened the doors. Watching his retreating back, he held out
his hand.
"Let's
hear a round of applause for our entertainment for this evening."
Everyone
clapped and cheered for him instead of the comedian. Eating up the
attention, he held the stage a few minutes, talking to them. He made
Drew come up and introduce himself. Talking like a reporter, he held
the microphone between them.
"Mr.
Carlson," he began.
"Mr.
Simmons."
They
nodded in unison setting the room laughing when they did a knuckle
bump.
"You
said a few minutes ago that you rescued this lovely, seductive,
Russian beauty from the ocean?"
"Actually,
she's Georgian."
"She's
from Georgia?" His voice rose to an irreverent squawk as he
pointed north.
"Not
the state to the north. The one near Russia."
"Ooh,
dat Georgia. Gotcha. Tell us the tale. Inquiring minds wanna know.
And we got inquiring minds."
The
audience cheered, clapped and stomped their feet. Drew blushed
slightly, taking the proffered microphone.
"Hi,
y'all. Not much to tell, really. I was at work yesterday and saw
something in the water. I called for backup, jumped in and found
Magda there with a head wound. I pulled her to the boat and she's
fine." He shrugged. He'd never been much for speaking in public,
preferring not to draw attention to himself.
"That
was terrible," Trey Simmons shoved him lightly, nearly knocking
him over.
"I
agree." Magda rose gracefully from her seat. "I tell it."
Trey
helped her on the stage, handing her the microphone as he stepped
back. Drew, unsure of himself, tried to do the same. Magda grabbed
him by the shirt, dragging him back beside her.
"Is
good story. I tell. Yesterday is still a bit fuzzy." She
gestured languidly. "I am knocked in the head. Was not his
fault." She pointed at Drew. "I was diving and was hit on
head here." She showed the stitches. The room exploded in
stifled gasps.
"Is
fine, no longer hurts. But in these waters, bleeding? I had moments
only. I find myself on surface, floating, dizzy, in pain. I was too
weak to call for help and fell unconscious. Suddenly, I feel strong
arms around me, and this comforting voice say, Are you alright?
I am unable to answer. The arms go around me so." She
demonstrated the hold on Drew, her arms barely going around his
chest. "Only his arms are longer and I am not so big and
strong."
Magda
felt his muscles through the lightweight shirt. Liking what she
found, she ran her hands over his upper body, dropping her fingers
lower with each pass. Drew was in agony. Her long fingers left tiny
trails of sparks in their wake. Her hand moved to his shoulder, going
down his back with lingering slowness, dropping to his ass, which she
grabbed. The women in the room went wild, stomping and cheering. They
stood at their tables, swinging their napkins as they hooted and
danced.
"Yes,
most delicious. Unfortunately, I was like this." She
demonstrated by putting his arms around her, letting her head loll to
the side. "They take me on boat and I am not breathing. This the
man in ambulance tell me. And Drew brought me back to life! He is
miracle man, no? He is not just gorgeous body with beautiful eyes and
hair...."
She
licked her lips, eyes stripping him naked as they raked him up and
down. She inhaled slowly, exhaling in a low, moaning gasp. "Is
magnificent!" She walked to the front of the stage, talking to
the women in a stage whisper. "And girls, is not a hammer in his
pocket!" She winked expansively, making thrusting motions with
her hips.
©
2016 Dellani Oakes
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