Taming the Alien

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Falls knew the guy would hit on her. With such a short mini, it was nigh mandatory. She sat, tasted her drink, waited.

Yeah … here he was.

‘Mind if I join you?’

‘Not yet.’

He gave a quizzical look. ‘Not yet you don’t mind, or not yet to joining you?’

Falls shrugged and tried to look at home in the bar. Not easy to carry off when you’re:

a) English

b) Female

c) Black.

He sat.

She asked, ‘Do you swim?’

‘What?’

‘It’s just that you have a swimmer’s shape.’

‘Yeah? Well, no … no I don’t, not since Jaws, anyway.’

She gave a laugh. ‘There’s no sharks in England.’

He gave a tolerant smile. Nice teeth. Asked, ‘How long since you shopped on the Walworth Road?’

She laughed again, thought, Good Lord, if I’m not careful I’ll be having me a time.

He then proceeded to lay a line of chat on her. Not great or new, but in there.

She held up a finger, said, ‘Stop.’

‘What?’

‘Look, you’re an attractive man. But you already know that. We’d date, get excited, probably have hot sex.’ He nodded, if uncertainly, and she continued. ‘I know you’d have a good time — shit, you’d have a wonderful time — and I’d probably like it too. But then the lies, the fights the bitterness … Why bother?’

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