By Misti Lake
Date: 11 April 2001
It's So Easy to Fall In Lust
He strode into a coffee shop in North Vegas wearing a black leather jacket, Bugle Boy khakis, black Skechers, red dime store shades and Cool Water cologne. In his hair he wore L.A. Looks gel. His name was Dylan and he was on a mission. Not from God. Or even Satan. It was a mundane mission, but a mission nonetheless.
"That tree out there...it's dead. Did you know?" Dylan asked the sweaty blonde middle-aged waitress. She was smiling but she had ruby red lipstick on her yellowed teeth. Her nametag said "Alita."
"It's been dead for a long time, sugar britches. Couldn't take the heat," Alita said with a chuckle.
"Oh. That's too damn bad. In that case, give me a cup of decaf and a slice of coconut pie."
"You got it."
Dylan sat down at the counter and glanced around as he casually took off his shades and slipped out of his jacket, revealing a Black Sabbath t-shirt. He noticed a pretty Katie Holmes lookalike sitting alone in a booth with a newspaper spread out before her. She wore an intent expression on her lovely, flawless face as she circled want ads with a bright pink highlighter. When she noticed Dylan gazing at her, she puckered up like she'd just eaten a bowl of lemons.
"What are you looking at, fucker?" she muttered.
"I'm looking at a preternaturally pretty woman who obviously has a bad attitude. Sorry," Dylan said. He turned around and focused his attention on the slice of coconut pie and cup of coffee that Alita had just set down before him
"If you need anything else just let me know," Alita cooed. She gave Dylan a wink and headed for the kitchen.
As Dylan sipped his coffee, he felt the girl standing behind him. He could smell her vanilla shampoo. Dylan smirked and pretended not to notice.
"Excuse me. Can I sit with you?"
"Suit yourself, doll."
She sat down beside him and sighed.
"I came here with my boyfriend two weeks ago. He dumped me for a showgirl with fake tits and a fake tan. No tan lines. Hey.So I'm living in the Desert Inn looking for any piece of crap job I can find. That explains my bad attitude."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm Dylan."
"Good to meet you. I'm Lynne. That pie looks really good."
"Have some. I'm willing to share."
"No, that's too sleazy. So do you live here?"
"No, I'm just passing through. I live in Needles, California. I own an auto shop out there."
"Wow. Pretty damn impressive."
Lynne signalled Alita. Alita narrowed her eyes and sidled up to the counter.
"Yeah?"
"I just need a cup of ice."
"A cup of ice? Why don't you just order a drink and eat the ice?"
"Because I like to eat pristine ice that hasn't been touched by syrupy carbonation. Okay?"
"Sure. After you eat the ice you can leave. I don't trust you."
"Hey, that's not congenial. I think you owe her an apology," Dylan said.
"Do you really? Well, you can leave, too. I don't need this shit. I've been bustin' my ass since six o'clock this morning."
"You shoulda gone to college," Dylan snapped. He put his shades and jacket back on and grinned at Lynne.
"Let's go to the 7-Eleven down the street, babe."
"I'm not babe. I'm Lynne. Yeah, that sounds good."
"I should warn you...I drive a Harley."
"Cool. Let's go."
...Two hours later, they were in bed.
"You're as smooth as butter," Dylan murmured in Lynne's ear.
"I don't hear you. I'm not listening. You're a broken cell phone," Lynne said with a laugh. She hit Dylan square in the face with a pillow.
"Women," Dylan said, shaking his head.
"You talk like you've got gravel in your mouth," Lynne retorted. "Stick around awhile. Maybe I'll grow on ya," Dylan said. "Sure...like mold." They laughed and continued having sweaty, mulit-orgasmic sex. The kind that never really happens (even with AstroGlide) but you wish to God it DID.
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