Playing in the Wings

I wake from the dream.

Acquaintances and I sit in a dark club.
It is definitely a "someplace to be."
Definitely not "the place to be."
We sample a new alcoholic version of Coke. It sports a large-script "D.W." across the lower front of the can.
"D.ark W.ater Coke "

Two twenty-somethings giggle knottily out from the ladies restroom, overlapping. Verbally. Physically.

The one in black. Black hair, short and rough-cut. Black top, low cut. Bare midriff.
Defying and demanding at once.

She slips between me and the table. Pressed close. She is an unattainable actress. She is a childhood crush, grown.

She challenges: "Try to resist me," her brattish smile blurred by proximity.

I win.

I wake from the dream.