Meredith

"For a good time call Meredith"

That was the number in the bathroom stall of the 'Lazy S' bar.  I was in a mood to drink and to drink a lot.  I was somewhere between feeling sorry for myself and not giving a fuck when I noticed Meredith's number on the wall.  Normally, I wouldn't even bat an eye or give a second thought to such a number that was most likely scrawled there by some scorned lover that thought her to be a whore, but what do I know.

I step outside to get away from the bad karaoke, only to step into the stifling heat of a mid-summer's night.  I grab a cigarette, pull my phone out of my pocket and dial the number.  The alcohol has me sweating like a Salem witch on trial but I'm nervous and anxious to see what this call brings forth.

2 a.m. and I'm dialing some number found on a bathroom wall.  Good way to be found dead in a week, I think to myself.

The phone rings three times and as I am about to hang-up on a bad idea, she picks up. "Hello?" she says in a sleepy just woken up voice.

"Is this Meredith?" I ask.

"Yes.  Who's asking?"

"I...uh...got your number...um..." Stammering on the words as I try to figure out how to explain I came about her number, then I just say, "Are you looking for a good time?"

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No. It is not.  Are you looking for a good time?  Cause I'm in the mood for one."

"Look," she says with slight annoyance in her voice, "I am not a hooker or some slut.  Did Greg put you up to this?"

"I don't know a fucking Greg.  I'm looking for something wet to jerk off into and your it."

"I told you, I'm not a fucking whore."

"And I'm not looking to pay."

A long silence ensues.  For a moment I think she hung up and then, "Do you smoke?"

"You want me to pick you up some smokes on my way over?" I ask rather sarcastically.

"No dumbass.  Do you smoke weed and do you have any?  Those are my terms.  No weed, no good time.  Got it?"

Her terms?  Sounds good to me.  "Deal."

Wish me luck.