Dizzy Dallies

Dizzy went with her friend Camellia to the Grand Opening of a new bar in Beverly, two cops out on the town.  Dizzy didn’t go out much, but on rare occasions she would accompany Camellia Sanchez as her Wing Woman.  Camellia explained that the opening would attract a lot of different people drawn by free food and drinks.  What could be better?

“Fewer people” thought Dizzy. She liked people.  All kinds of people.  Just not a lot of people.  There were people everywhere and every one of them was laughing, or at least smiling.  This was a Grand Opening of a tavern/pub/bistro/café/restaurant/trattoria—or at least that’s how Dizzy thought of it.  She could never discern the difference.  This establishment called itself Foodies’ Lounge.  The atmosphere was vibrant.  Colors and commotion.  The air was redolent with the odor of good food and the sound of unnecessary and, to Dizzy’s way of thinking, “unmusical” music.  It was the price you had to pay for free eats.

At the beginning, Camellia was more dedicated to eating.  She claimed a place at a small high top and acted as the mother ship while Dizzy made sorties into the sea of people.  She wasn’t enjoying wading through the crowds, but it appealed to her more than guarding their food territorially.  If she could have been objective, she would have been pleased that she looked “hot” in a white ribbed blouse that clung to the right places and black slacks that did the same.  She carried her drink carefully in one hand and periodically plucked an appetizer from a wandering wait person.

Dizzy was swimming through the sea of people when she found herself attracted to a pair of eyes on the other side of the room.  The eyes were staring into hers.  It was mesmerizing.  Dizzy saw that the eyes were one part of a handsome face.  Attached to a very nice body.  In an understated sport jacket and unbuttoned shirt.  They approached each other, as though magnetically attracted.  Suddenly, she found herself in mutual osculation.  They kissed each other—passionately.  Then they stepped back from each other, smiled intimately and continued on their way.

Camellia left her post and pulled Dizzy close to her and said, “What in the wide world of sports just happened?”

Dizzy had never experienced anything like that before.  Very few people have.  Words like magic, kismet, animal attraction, crossed the computer monitor of her mind as she struggled to describe it.  She actually blushed.

Dizzy stammered, “I don’t know.”

Camellia laughed out loud.  “I’ve never seen anything like that!  I never would have guessed.  OK, so you say you don’t know, but did you like it?”

Dizzy looked back toward the site of the incident, “Yes.” As she drove home, Dizzy couldn’t stop thinking about the incident.  Who was he?  How did it happen?  It was so obviously mutual.  What did it mean?