Fishing Blind

I sat at the bar, waiting for the first tequila shot to take effect.  Nothing.  Not even a vague good feeling.  I ordered another shot,  threw my head back, and let the liquid burn down my throat.  Maybe it would burn away my heart, too.

"You're supposed to use a lime and salt," a voice beside me noted.  I turned my head slowly.  My friend Cindy was smiling at me.  I grinned back, and signaled the bartender.

"That's for sissies."  It was an old joke between us.  Cindy knew that I needed to forget about my breakup with Jorge, and she had offered to be the designated driver on our night out.  I turned around with my shot, and looked over the crowd, while she sipped her water.  

I nodded at a few men who looked promising, then I threw back my third tequila shot.  I was finally starting to feel numb to the world, just like I wanted.  I turned and signaled the bartender for one more.  He looked a little concerned, but an extra tip salved his conscience.

Cindy was talking to a good looking college boy when I felt a hand on my bare thigh.  I looked around, then up into the very intense stare of the man attached to the hand.  As he stared, his hand began to move up my thigh, under my skirt.  I was mesmerized by that stare, swaying a little into his body.  He put another drink into my hand, then led me toward the dance floor.  I was no longer sober, blind enough to make a bad decision.  I pulled on the hand that held me, and then led the way to the exit. 


This is fiction, but it's based on my college years.  At least, what I remember of the drinking is.