Wild Stallion

Lola was like a wild stallion. No one could tame the likes of her. “Come on boys, now we’ll get her” the foreman yelled to the other cowboys, those who would rather sit on the fence watching how man after man would get thrown off her back, no matter how hard they tried to stay put. The horse broke free, jumping the fence leaving the bewildered men in her wake. “I’ll teach her who is boss around here” the foreman yelled, grabbing his lasso, and running after the wild devil of a beast.

Lola wouldn’t let anyone mess around with her. When I held her close, she’d mosey up to me, looking for sugar in my hand, ready to jump through flaming hoops if that was needed to wow the crowds with her talent. The circus stint was a wasted venue for someone as talented as Lola. Sure it was mesmerizing when she’d toss her stilettos into the wooden post, just inches above the head of the frightened ringmaster, knowing as he did how she could kill him dead in his tracks, if only she willed it. If only she wanted to.

Listen here Ninny. Today we are going to practice the dos and don’ts of the finer ways of eating etiquette. We’ll start simple, then move on to the more complicated moves, but only if you are ready, and I mean really ready!

Lola used to tie me to that very same post, when the evening’s show was over. “Would you like a blindfold?” she’d ask me, “or, perhaps just a kiss?” There was no problem about deciding which one. I’d take the kiss any day, but then I’d have a pang of regret when she would start to throw her knives at me. My hands tied with a red ribbon,  the same type that she’d tie me to the bed with, when we…when she….

The most important lesson today is how to hold a knife! No. NO! You see, already you’ve let your mind wander elsewheres, so that this first and most important part has been ruined by your lack of attention. With you being right-handed, you will be holding the knife in your right hand, and fork in your left.”

I don’t know how other did that simple procedure, but I couldn’t see the sense of it? A knife was for cutting. Not for holding when not cutting. Only for cutting using the hand you always use to do so.

Listen her Poindexter, this is the way cultured people hold a knife, like those Europeans and the like.”

Who cares about how others did something? My mother wouldn’t even let me taste foreign cheese, let alone think of doing something like visiting a foreign country. “They don’t do things like we do. What they do is foreign in every way, shape and form. They dress differently. They think differently, and the women even kiss differently! Nothing for the likes of my son, let me tell you.”

Why did she have to say “kiss”? Women seem to know when to turn on my burner, and when to turn if off again, if only they’d decide if they want me to know about something, or not!

All right. Let’s run through it again. Right hand, right knife. Left hand. Left fork. Now you’re cooking!” she sounded satisfied all right, but what would Lola have done right now? I sometimes wondered why I kept the both of them around, they were just so darned different! They did have one thing in common. They were both girls! Always a positive factor in my book, let me tell you, but other than that they treated me differently. Way differently.

My friend, the Girl Next Door was demanding, pushy, irritating, and just about everything that could be wrong knowing someone like her. Lola on the other hand was sensuous, magical, mysterious, and just downright sexy in her red dress. That red dress made me start to daydream again. Right in the middle of my other daydream, which kept me from going crazy with the right hand, left hand business. Lola knew just how I liked it to be, low-cut on the top and short on the bottom. I didn’t need to apologize to her for thinking like that, nor did I need to worry if she thought that I was just using her for her body. I was though, I was one of those dirty, no good, lowdown men who only wanted her for, for…but I tried to hide it by being caring, understanding and a good listener.

Are you listening to me, or what?” Her voice was becoming more impatient all the time, with me fearing that she soon would turn to violence to get her point across.

I couldn’t help myself when she put the knife in my hand. The right one. I started twirling it about, just like Lola showed me, causing my friend to stare at me with her “Death Stare”.

“This is what we call  the Dance of Death”, said as she threw her knives up into the air, catching them before they landed and struck me, well before they struck me where I lived. “Lola”, I cried. I didn’t look at her. Honestly, I didn’t, but Lola had heard those kind of lies before. Every man before me who had done her wrong. Every man who had led her down the aisle promising to love and honor, while he was eyeing the bridesmaids as he walked the last steps to the altar.

No.No.NO! My goodness, now you’ve gone too far Poindexter. That cut will be drawing blood in a minute, and I won’t be around to explain to your mother why, or how that happened. Once a small town boy, always a small town boy is what my mother used to say, she said. I would have liked to meet her mother, father and pet rat if possible, but I might as well have been whistling Dixie for all the good that would do me.”

Lola took her knives out of her dress, one-by-one. She eyed them carefully, before licking the one to do the deed, then she painted her lips ruby red, and tore off her coat, revealing her red dress for all the world to see. I felt the sweat beading on my forehead, and hoped for the cavalry to come riding over the hill, alerted by the foreman and the cowboys about how the wild stallion had been causing havoc to city and town. “A single bullet to the head, will put that mare out of her misery” said the Foremen, as he raised his rifle and took aim. His finger hesitated a bit, while the men around him lit their cigarettes and held their breath.

Lola pressed her sultry form  up against my body, with her lips just a breath away from mine. “Tell me more lies, and I’ll cut your free” she hissed, as she kissed me once in reassurance of what was to come, if I answered correctly.

“Lola”, I said without blinking an eye. “I’ll tell you anything you want to hear”

That’s it. I’ve had it, she said as she threw the knives in my direction before stomping off towards her house. “And remember, this Girl Next Door won’t be calling you anytime soon,” said while disappearing into her house, the screen door slamming, thus allowing a quiet to fall over the neighborhood once again.

Lola never missed, if she wanted to, she would have, but this time with the proper amount of lies, told to her as we lie there, on my crabgrass filled lawn, for all the world to see, anything that Lola would do for me.

And I mean, anything…