You remember those choose your own adventure books when you were younger? If you don’t, you might be too young for this blog… but that aside, I’ve been inspired to write again. I’ve got an interesting (to me) beginning, but I’m missing some key elements and a direction.
So let’s do an experiment.
I’m going to post what I’ve got written so far, and then in the comments below, you guys and gals help me get to the next step. Particularly, I would like your input into the guy that Lydia (our heroine) is there to meet at the bar. He needs a name, and a description. What does he do? How does he look? What is her first impression? Stuff like that. I’ll take the info y’all provide and keep working on the story.
Sounds like fun to me.
So here goes nothing:
Lydia slunk into the bar. Her favorite strappy nude heels click-clacking across the floor, one foot in front of the other in that way that made her butt jiggle just so.
Frank had loved it when her butt jiggled just so. He’d always commented on it when he sent her up to the bar to order another drink. He’d liked these jeans, too, the ones that tapered just right to give her ass that heart shape that all the boys had loved so much when she was younger. Age had altered the curvature a bit, but these jeans lifted and tugged just right to give her the ass of a twenty something again. She smoothed her hand over the side of her rear-end, making sure everything was still just right. She would hate to have her shirt come untucked and hide that deceivingly perfect ass.
Lydia had opted for the high collared blue shirt, the silky one that shimmered and swished as she brought her arm up to brush the hair out of her eyes. She was still adjusting to the fringe of bangs in her eyes. Bangs were not her style, but they seemed to work for the girl in Purchasing so Lydia gave her hair the chop as part of her new self-improvement project. Frank had always said she’d look better with short hair, but she couldn’t wait for her brown tresses to grow back out again. It made her self-conscious every time the wind blew across the nape of her newly naked neck—another reason for the high collar.
She needed to be on point tonight. No rubbing the back of her neck to ease the goose pimply flesh that was so unaccustomed to being exposed. No tugging at a loose shirt, or constantly tucking it back in. No fidgeting with a new pair of shoes. Everything had to be perfect.
At the bar, every stool was taken, but Lydia found a wedge of space between two men who had spun around to face the attractive young things next to them. Lydia placed her foot on the bottom ledge of the bar and placed her perfectly manicured left hand on the bar to mark her territory. The man to the right of her was trying to maneuver his hand ever so slightly further up the bare leg of the pretty blond he was talking to. To her left, the man was apparently making a joke. Lydia heard a girly giggle bubble out of the mouth of his petite, redheaded companion. Her perfectly puckered mouth was sucking a little too longingly at her straw; someone was getting lucky tonight.
It was so easy for these girls. Their petite frames and the glistening of their youthful, naïve eyes. Men flocked to them in droves, not even bothering to hear them speak. In fact, they preferred not to hear them speak!
Of course, children are meant to be seen and not heard, Lydia thought to herself, a light smirk jumping to her rouged lips.
“That’s a heck of a Mona Lisa smile you’ve got going on there,” said the bartender as he placed a cocktail napkin in front of her, his comment bringing a blush to her cheek. “I’d love to know what’s got you so tickled. Must be good to make you blush so prettily!”
Bartenders were the best flirts. Always knew how to make you feel special, even if it was only for a better tip. Lydia fought down her own girly giggles to order a drink.
“Just get me a Vodka tonic, you old flirt,” Lydia quipped with a wink. She wanted to let him know she was onto him, but didn’t want him spitting in her drink, after all.
Drink in hand, Lydia scoped out the room looking for her date, or the perfect corner in which to hide from him. There was no telling what she was in for tonight. After three months of increasingly worse first dates, she had finally agreed to let Johnathon, her work husband, set her up on a blind date with his wife’s younger brother.
Alright, so that’s what I’ve got so far. Now you help me out:
- What’s the guy’s name?
- What does she already know about him?
- What does he look like?
- What is her impression of him when he walks into the bar?
- Do you think they’ll hit it off? Or will they hate each other?