(Book Two) My name is...well you know my name and I think I'm gay. No, I'm sure of it. I'm in love with my best friend. She is wild, reckless, and the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I love her not just for her beauty but her soul. She pulled me...
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I watch Ari gyrate her hips to the rhythm of the music.
It's sexy and I can't take my eyes off of her. She's an intoxicating and feverous sight to lay eyes on. A familiar heat and desire starts to rise from my center. My heart pounds in my ears and my face feels hot.
Her thick hair hangs loose and wild. Strands of it stick to her sweat sheen body, as she rocks her head back and forward. Perspiration trickles down her face, neck, and her cleavage. She lifts her arms up and spins while suggestively swaying her hips.
Moments ago, Ari had hoisted herself on top of the bar. And now she is dancing and performing for the people in the tavern. Most of whom are large harry old men.
She is drunk. Far too drunk. Which is not unusual for her, not anymore.
Ari starts to bellow a tune from the top of her lungs in an unfamiliar language. Her words are harsh, guttural, and sound angry. I think she is singing in Russian. Which would make sense, since we are in a Russian bar at the center of Ile-de-France. What doesn't make sense is that she knows how to sing in Russian.
"Tal'yanokchka, sama. O tom, kak chernoglazyz. Svels suma."
She chants over and over while clapping her hands and stomping her feet. Even in a foreign language, her singing is horrendous. The men at the bar don't seem to care. They start to clap and sing along to the words. A few of them reach up and swat at her or pass her a shot of vodka. Which she takes.
I look over at the barkeep. He is cleaning a glass cup and watching her wearily from the other side of the bar. She is entertaining his guest, so he has yet to say anything.
The speed at which she is clapping and stomping her feet increases when a new song comes on. The men match her pace. They're getting rowdy. A man reaches up and places money in the waistband of her jeans.
It's time to go.
I get up from our table, Ari had abandoned it, and I push my way towards the bar. I reach her just as she starts a rendition of the Can-can. She kicks out and several of the glasses knock over and beer sloshes to the wooden floors. I thought it was an accident but then she continues to kick over several more glasses. The men cheer as liquor splashes everywhere and they only seem to sing louder.
I reach up for Ari, begging her to come down with my eyes. She smiles drunkenly at me.
The barkeep comes up behind her and starts yelling at us in Russian. Which if anyone has ever been yelled at in Russian you know it's extremely intimidating. Then he proceeds to yell at me in French which isn't any less scary. I speak neither.
"Ari, come on. Get down!" I whine and reach for her hand again. She pulls it away and continues to dance.
"Crazy American! Now! Out! Bar!" The Barkeep shouts at me in English over the noise while aggressively pointing at Ari. Of course, those would be the words he knew.
