The Black Train by Edward Lee Page A

silence.
    Lottie tapped him on the shoulder, looked right at him, and mouthed I love you!
    Somebody please shoot me, Collier thought. He struggled for anything to deflect his unease. “So, uh, are you, uh, sure you don’t want something to eat?”
    You! she mouthed and grinned.
    He pretended not to understand. I’m dying here. His next errant glance fell on her foot in the too-big shoe, which she was still anxiously rocking.
    Even her ankle was attractive. Even the vein up the top of her foot seemed erotic.
    I need help! I need a counselor!
    Relief emptied on him when Dominique reappeared behind the bar. She’d removed her brewer’s apron, sporting full B-cups and a trim, curvy figure with wide hips and a flat stomach. The plain attire—jeans and a white cardigan—only augmented her unique, radiant cuteness. She seemed to repress a smile when she saw who was sitting next to Collier. “Hi, there, Lottie.”
    Lottie waved energetically, and gulped her beer.
    “How’s the wort?” Collier asked.
    “Yeasting nicely. It’s for the next batch of Maibock.”
    “I’ll have to try that after I’ve notated the lager well enough.” He watched her washing barley dust off her hands in the triple sinks behind the bar. She’s just…absolutely…adorable…
    Lottie’s hand opened on his thigh and pressed down. Collier almost flinched until he saw that she was just pushing off his leg to get off her stool. She’s faced! “Here, let me help you.” He stood and got her to her feet. She grinned up cockeyed at him; the top of her head came to his nipple. She mouthed something and made hand gestures, then turned and clopped away in the big shoes.
    “I guess she wants to leave now.”
    “I think she just wants to go to the bathroom,” Dominique said.
    Collier watched the tight buttocks clench with each drunken step. “My God, I hope she doesn’t fall,” he muttered. “Maybe I should help her.”
    “Probably not the best idea,” Dominique replied. Now she was polishing some slim altbier glasses. “She’d pull you into the bathroom with her. She’s a card, all right, but I guess you’re realizing that.”
    “You have no idea.” He retook his stool and sighed.
    “The poor girl’s so messed up. And you shouldn’t have given her a beer; she can’t even hold one.”
    Collier saw that Lottie’s big pint glass stood empty.
    “She’ll be a handful getting back to Mrs. Butler’s place, just so you know in advance.”
    He nodded grimly. “I’ll get her out of here. Hopefully she won’t pass out in the ladies’ room.”
    Dominique laughed. “That’s happened a few times. She’s actually a very nice girl and handles her problems well… except when she drinks. You’ll see.”
    Collier caught the attractive brewer grinning. Oh, boy. With no apron now to cover her upper chest, Collier’s eyes were rioting to stare. Don’t stare! He almost bit down on his lower lip. And don’t drink any more. You’re drunk! The need to make a good impression overwhelmed him, but now he knew that if he even talked too much, he might slur his words.
    “Care for one more?”
    “No, thanks. I’ve had a few too many already,” he admitted. “If I had one more, I’d make an idiot of myself in front of you. I wish I had your moderation.”
    “You should’ve seen me in my younger days.” Another interesting remark. I’ll bet she was an animal. As for the “younger days” comment— How old can she be? She can’t be much more than thirty. When she polished the next glass, he noticed that all of her fingers lacked rings.
    Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
    “I’d really like to talk to you some more,” Collier braved, “but I’ve got to get back to the hotel. Do you work tomorrow?”
    “All day till seven. And I’d really like to talk to you some more, too, Mr. Collier.”
    “Oh, no, call me Justin.” She gets off tomorrow at seven. Ask her out, you pussy! that other voice challenged. But even in his heavyweight-lager buzz, he