Page 16 of Dick

It seemed strange to be on the receiving end of harassment, especially at the hands of a woman. I tossed my hands in the air in an exaggerated – but playful – fashion. “We don’t have a subject. You were just showing me how wide you could open your pretty little mouth. Now I’ve got your mouth and that cute little ass of yours to think about.”

She huffed out a heavy sigh. One would have thought I spent the entire evening discussing sex. Truth be told, I hadn’t even started.

She raised her glass of wine and immediately realized it was empty. “Yeah. Okay, so you gave me your little business card in the alley. And then you hunted me down, just like you said. Now you’re making me open my mouth. What do you want from me?”

“Spend some time with you. Get to know you.” I took a short sip of my scotch and shrugged. “See what happens.”

“See what happens?” She leaned forward and stared straight into my eyes. “That’s code for see if I can fuck this bitch.”

I choked on my scotch. Again. I normally didn’t keep track of such things, but it was the third time. And it was scotch. It burned. Bad.

“Son-of-a-bitch.” I was pissed, but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve got to stop making me do that.”

She raised her empty wine glass. “I wish I had something to choke on.”

I fought against the urge to smile, but didn’t totally succeed.

“What?” she snapped.

“You want something to choke on? I can resolve that problem. Quick.”

“Here we go again. I was talking about my empty wine glass, and you’re thinking about sticking your big fat dick in my mouth. I don’t know about you, Dick.”

“Big fat dick? What do you know about my dick?”

She studied me for a few long seconds, and then reached into her purse. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. I’m drunk. Well, not drunk. Just drunk-ish.”

She spread lip gloss on her lips, smacked them together a few times, and dropped the tube into her purse. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a criminal too.”

“Excuse me?”

She pointed to herself and nodded. “A criminal. I’ve been arrested.”

“I can’t wait to hear this. For what? Being a mouthy bitch?”

“Kicking a cop in the nuts.”

It didn’t surprise me. “Seriously? A real cop or a Wal-Mart cop?”

“Real cop. Real cop car. Real jail cell. Real judge. Real jury. Real everything. The fucker pulled me over for speeding, and was going to write me a ticket for not having proof of insurance. I had proof of insurance, but he wouldn’t accept it.”

“So you kicked him in the nuts?”

“No. I kicked him in the nuts because he grabbed me.”

“Why’d he grab you?”

“Because he told me to stop and I didn’t.”

“Stop what?”

“Walking away while he was talking to me.”

“So you kicked him in the nuts?”

“Yep. Twice. I just paid my insurance premium, and had the proof on my phone. I opened the proof of insurance, you know, the .pdf document the insurance company sent me. So I got it and showed him my phone and said ‘here’s the proof.’ And he said ‘that’s not proof, I need a printed copy.’ And I said ‘no you don’t, you want a printed copy. You need proof. You have proof.’

And I turned around and started walking back to my car. So, he grabbed my arm and spun me around. Fucker starts screaming about how I need to do what he says and all kinds of crazy shit. I would have been fine with all that, but he wouldn’t let go of my arm. I told him to let go. He didn’t. So, I kicked him in the nuts.