Jessica Rabbit in a non sexy way

Every time I go to an underground Poetry event, I see something or someone that inspires me to write.

I guess the people I meet there are either so good or so bad that it stays with me.

This time around, it wasn't necessarily a lovely impression. But it was an impression. Anyway, who cares about loveliness as long as your muse is working for you?

She was a sight.
She reminded of Jessica Rabbit in a non sexy way. Yet for all she was, I'm pretty sure I must have made a face similar to Roger Rabbit when I saw her. Eyes Bulging and all.

She came to me almost within minutes of entering the venue and asked me if she could sit at my table. 

I said i didn't mind and kept on reading. I thought I was late. Been advised to arrive at 8:30 p.m as it would be packed. Well it wasn't. Far from it. And it took another hour before the room started to fill. 

So I had plenty of time to assess my surroundings while I sat at a table. A I started reading.

But of course minutes, no seconds into it, I got distracted by everything around me and especially that lady who had sat next to me.
She was putting on a red lip stick over her non-pretty lips. Her blond and long hair was neither exactly brushed nor very smooth. Her glasses fell a bit on her nose but what shocked me the most was the outstanding amount of breast showing off her very loose black cardigan. 

Big round white breasts. Not even sure she had a bra. But then again, she must have, for Mr Gravity is so merciless and the size of them could definitely not defy that law.

I smiled to myself. Because she didn't care. And I felt awfully impressed by that.

She was comfortable enough in her skin to state that she didn't care what people thought of her.

Anyway, I went to get something to drink at the counter. And as I waited for my drink, I turned towards her again and saw that the tiny button on her cardigan had popped or should I say succombed to the large weight of her breasts and there was even more breast on show now.

She didn't see me looking at her and simply hooked back the button without any fuss or show of emotion on her face.

I was even more impressed then.

Should I go on?

I walked back with my drink and resumed to discreetly look at her.  Her sausage-like legs bulged through her jean and as I pretended to look at my book again, she leaned towards me and asked in a sweet and polite voice if I wouldn't mind terribly if she sat next to me.  That way, she could see the stage better.

And she added, she would sit as far as she could from me, which made me smile. It made me like her even more because it was next to impossible for her to do so. There was hardly any space left on that bench as another person sat twenty inches from me.Yet I liked that she tried that politeness despite the not-so-classy surroundings.

As more people turned up, we ended up being shoulder to shoulder. But I didn't mind then and I didn't mind during the night either because she was rather nice and friendly towards me.

She seemed to know a lot of poets and the poets seemed to know her well in turn. Upon her reply, I discovered that she wasn't a poet herself. But a writer. Of sexy stuff. 

Well i thought to myself. She definitely has material.

Any way, I'll finish up saying that she had an unusual way of humming over the background noise which was also strangely endearing.

Last thought about the evening is while people listened intently at the poets, their faces turned towards the stage, I caught the eye of the bartender across the crowded place, longingly looking in our direction or should I say at her heavenly cleavage. I caught his eye, as I said and he caught mine. I laughed then and I had to look away. I don't know if he realised I was laughing at him rather than at myself because I caught him red-handed. 

I'll never know.

All in all a very entertaining evening.

I wonder how often do we writers, get caught catching glimpses of people's lives/thoughts and how much does it stay with you when it does happen?

Any thoughts on that?