Her accent was as thick as country gravy but she wasn't from the states. Russian or Slavic of some sort. I was drunk, so I can't remember exactly, but she was a charmer. And pretty too. Her name was Nadia, and had short, dirty blonde hair, which I don't usually like, but it was working that night. Grey eyes, and the face of a beautifully hardened, 1920's flapper woman. She was in her early twenties at best. Long legs but was a medium height. Not too tall. Can't love a woman you have to look up to, that's what my granddad used to say, and he was right.
"I've never been . . . in a men," she said to me.
I laughed because I knew what she meant. And she laughed too, but I'm not sure why. She was trying to say she was a virgin, which I knew was bull shit. Any man with half a rod and working eyes would have gave her a shot.
"Oh yeah," I asked.
"Yes. Yes, sir," she said and laughed again, but this time, fell into me. Putting her hand on my leg and breathing alcohol ridden breath on my face. We had been at the bar for a couple hours just drinking drink after drink. And at first is was hard to understand the broken English, so I did most of the talking. She seemed to understand pretty well and was good at saying yes and no, so it went on like that for a while. For whatever reason, it was easier for me to understand the more we drank.
"That's something else," I told her.
"How do it mean, some thing else," she asked.
"I mean, it's nice."
We kept drinking til the bar closed. I was surprised she was flirting so heavy on me all night, but I suppose she didn't know many other people here. We had just met the day before through an ex-girlfriend that I'm still on good terms with. A friend of the family, somehow. I didn't ask for details. Both of the goddamn families were at this bar yesterday: my ex, her mom and dad, Nadia, her parents and her younger sister.
"Will! Will! How are you," called my ex.
We all sat and small talked for a few minutes, before I wanted to leave and get drunk at a different table when my ex asked me if I was free tomorrow. She had to work a double and Nadia would be in town for 3 more days. Blah blah, she's nice and I don't want her to be bored, blah.
"Where we going to," she asked when the bar locked it's door behind us.
"I don't give a damn," I told her.
"What house do you live," she offered.
"No house," I said, "Shit hole apartment."
It wasn't a long walk, but it was a pleasant one. She held my arm most of the way, like an old lady holds her husband when she can't find her walker. And when we got in, I did some quick cleaning. Just the big things like dishes in the bathroom with macaroni stuck to it, and a giant piece of cardboard in the living room floor that I was painting on earlier that month.
When I finished picking up the major messes I was happy to see her putting a record on the turntable. The last girl that was in my apartment that knew how to use a record player was my mother, but that's the nice thing about people from other countries: Culture.
I sat on the couch and watched her. She put on the Stones and started dancing the way girls dance when they know they're looking sexy and drunk. She made her way to the couch and I puffed out a few short laughs. She smiled. This moment was short lived.
We went to my bedroom to have sloppy sex.
"What this," she asked, crawling onto the bed.
"It's a rag," I told her.
"It's for clean up."
"Clean up by bed?"
"Yeah. It's a cum rag."
"I'm not knowing this," she said after a long look at it.
"You know, after sex, it's sometimes pretty messy, and it's -" and then it hit me, "Holy fuck you're actually a virgin."
She looked at me sideways, the way a dog does when you make weird noises at it.
"I'm sleeping on the couch," I said.
She was confused. Thought she did something wrong, big tears, and lots of talking I didn't understand because I only speak English. Eventually I convinced her I was sick from drinking, which was a flat out lie. "Americans are light weights - No balls," and "I'm vomiting in my mouth right now, but not because of you - glug glug vodka - beer," and things like that.
I slept on the couch but took the rag with me. Told her it was in case I threw up on the couch I can clean it. Made coffee in the morning, and served up some toast for us with jam. She seemed chipper, but I was back to square one with the language barrier and couldn't understand a goddamn thing she was telling me. It was just nice to wake up to someone who was pretty with a thick accent.