The Sweet Shot

Life conspires against one, at times. And sometimes for one’s better interest in the long run, perhaps. For all the grave and base emotions and energies we might possess, fate will sometimes just not allow for them to be exercised.

Case in point: I walked into a party at the end of my college years. Before I could even get my bearings, someone grabbed my hand and immediately planted a very, ahem, attention-getting kiss upon me. Shocked as much as I was pleased, I noted it was a girl who I had in a class but was much too shy to approach. She was beautiful.

Without missing a beat, she said, “Let’s dance.” I had no problem with that.

As the song ended, she kissed me, very passionately yet again. I was very pleased with the way this evening was shaping up. Then, she said, “Get me a shot of tequila and a lime and I will show you what a sweet shot is.”

Again, I had no problem with that at all.

What ensued was her rubbing a lime on the side of my neck and then placing a slice of it in my lips, perhaps for safekeeping. Next, she extracted, with her mouth and a good dose of vehemence, said lime juice from my neck. I relished the thought of what might follow.

What did follow was her taking the tequila from me and looking at me with what can only be described as a devilish smolder and a lick of the lips. With the ease of a saloon hostess, she tossed back the shot and came in for the kill.

I was thrilled.

Unfortunately, in her initial descent and approach for landing, she choked on the tequila and coughed it up. All over me.

The resulting splash, millimeters from her face at this point, bathed her beautiful blue eyes. This sent her reeling back with a shriek and dropped her to her knees as she exclaimed, “My eyes! My eyes! I got tequila in my eyes!”

I was still standing there with the lime between my lips, knowing this might only happen to me.

Of course, I did the gentlemanly thing and helped her to the ladies’ room so that she might flush her eyes and recover.

She never spoke to me again. I assume out of embarrassment, but it could be from a psychological connection of my face and searing pain in the eyes.

Regardless, we were not fated to be. Maybe it was for the better. I mean, after all, she did eventually become a lawyer.