Randy interacts with the other person

    The soft pad of high heels walking away from him caused Randy to lift his chin off his chest to see who had spoke.  The legs strolling away from him were long, brown and muscular, wrapped in fishnet stockings.  His eyes followed the legs up to a pair of manish hips packed in a tight velvet miniskirt.  Whatever the extreme opposite of curiosity is, that's how Randy felt about what was under that miniskirt.  "Where's the nearest place to get a drink around here?" Randy said wearily, loud enough for Legs to hear.  With a hand on her hip, she turned around slowly.  Something about her yellow eyes and high cheekbones reminded him of Wesley Snipes.  She looked him over and then flashed a wide grin.  "Come on baby, I know a quiet little place."  Randy tried to get to his feet smoothly, but his leg had fallen asleep, and caught the edge of his overcoat, causing him to stumble.  In frustration, he pulled off the pee-soaked garment, and threw it at a pile of garbage.  Legs looked him over again, "What's your name baby?"  Trying to quickly think of someone cool, the only name that he could come up with was Burt Bacharack.  "Burt"  Randy said in the toughest voice he could muster.  Legs cooed, "OOH, like Ernie and Bert?  They was so cute! I loved them!"  "Yea, like Ernie and Bert.  Exactly." Randy said as they started walking side by side down the pavement. 

    Randy opted for bar stools when they got to the crappy little corner bar.  He didn't want to give Legs the chance to get romantic sitting in a booth.  After a couple of beers, Legs caught on that Bert wasn't in the mood for a date, but it was a slow night and he was buying, so she stuck around.  The flirtiness slowly faded from her voice as the conversation continued, and pretty soon, they were just two guys, sitting on bar stools drinking beer.   The alcohol lubricated the conversation, and Randy began to open up.  "I didn't mean any insult by not wanting a date, you know." he said sincerely.  Legs replied without looking away from American Idol on the blurry little TV over the bar.  "Oh, that's okay.  Guys come down here all the time and change their mind when they get here."  Randy felt he had been misunderstood, and tried to explain, "No, no, I didn't come down here for a date, I've been through some serious stuff today, man.  My world is falling apart on me."  Legs turned to look at him, mildly curious.  "Really?"  "Yes!" Randy implored, trying to garner some sympathy.  "I came home today and caught my wife in bed with two other people doing some seriously sick stuff!"  Legs wasn't totally enthralled with the story.  It sounded all too mundane.  "What was they doing?" she asked, turning back to the TV program.  "They were..." Randy didn't want to broach the topic of transvestites, thinking it would be too awkward, "I don't want to go into all of it, but it was just sick!"  Legs wasn't impressed.  "Hey, it happens every day baby."  she said dismissively.  Suddenly dissatisfied with the level of emotional support he was getting, Randy gulped down his remaining beer, and announced that he had to get going.  Legs was now totally absorbed in the TV, and barely noticed.  Total rejection, Randy thought.  Even here.

The End

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