Her name is Domenica. She has dark hair, amber skin and golden eyes, a really hot curvy figure and the cutest dimples on her cheeks when she smiles. I’d tell you more about her but she started talking and she stuns me like a taser gun.

Maybe I should just explain how she happened.

---

Just one hour earlier, night is falling but the weather has cleared up big time, so I’m surprisingly getting warmer. The air is still, heavy with a layer of purple slowly covering the streets.

I had a big day, physically and emotionally challenging. I got a new job and a bicycle to get there. I have a few dollars in my pocket. This smells like the perfect occasion to let loose and reward myself! Energy coursing through me, I cycle up to the old part of town where my favorite bar is perched. I may be on the thin side, but I’ve never been afraid of pushing myself, especially when I have such a good reason.

The Sunny Side Up is the kind of cramped yet snug place where you can always find a friend and a drink. I definitely need a drink ad I wouldn’t mind a friend. It takes me a minute to lock up the bike on a quiet street running along the bar. The pavement in front of the main door is narrow enough to be crowded by the three drunkards hanging outside.

They are just sitting there, with their legs stretched over the gutter, laughing with a disturbing cackle in their voices. I’d rather pass them by without getting noticed. Wishful thinking: the moment I’m standing at the door, one of them turns around and calls out to me.

“You know it’s co-coming, right?” he says. Now that I look at him, he doesn’t look like the typical city bum: an expensive-looking though crumpled suit, nicely polished shoes. Probably more of a banker partying a little too hard. I don’t know what else could give him a trembling lip, slurred speech and eyes that look that empty.

It seems pretty pointless to answer seriously. I grab the door’s handle. “Sure, man, whatever’s coming, it’s coming.”

The other two turn around too, probably flattered by the attention. “The Second Hatching!” says one of them. “It’s upon us!” says the other.

This is getting eerie enough to make me enter the bar without looking behind. I don’t wanna get caught up in something with a group of boozers, thank you. Even with the door shut and the music droning from the speakers, I hear them resuming their weird cackling. Creeps.

The bar is reasonably empty tonight. One woman sitting at the brass counter, a couple round tables occupied in the back. I go straight to a closest stool, located right in front of the taps. Mandy is busy emptying a keg, but she stills finds a way to greet me without looking.

“Hey beautiful,” she says. “It’s been a while.”

I grab a beermat and playfully tap it on the counter. I’m in no hurry tonight. “Hey Mandy. Yeah, I was a bit too tight on money last month to spend on nights out.”

“Is that right?” Mandy grabs the empty keg, goes out on the small porch in the back and stacks it. She gives off the same “strong pixie” vibe as usual.

Mandy must be in her forties. She has pinkish blonde hair that sways down her collarbone and raises around her face, a rosy complexion and she’s short enough to have a stool waiting for her counter-side. Contrasting with her looks, she’s strong and outspoken. I can’t help thinking she’s so cute. She can’t help flipping me the bird every time I mention that. All in all, we’re good friends, even though I mostly see her behind the counter.

I wait till she comes back to mention the situation outside. “You might want to cut the guys on your front porch off for the night. I think they’ve had plenty enough.”

“Is that so?” she says. She looks out, narrowing her eyes. From here, there is not much to see apart from their dim outlines. “Did they bother you?” She says. “’Cause I haven’t served them tonight. They’re no clients of mine.”

I shrug. “Nah, they’re just wasted. What have you got on tap?”

Mandy holds a finger up, finishes setting up the new keg and grabs an old notebook. “Well, first things first, there’s that tab you left last time,” she says with a wide smile.

I groan. “How much was it?”

She flips through the pages. “18 dollars, 80 cents,” she says. “Got enough on you?”

I get the cash out of my pocket. “Yeah, mm. What can I get with the remainder?” I ask, full of hope. But all I get is half a pint in a mug and a couple cents. “Don’t complain,” says Mandy. “It’s on the house.”

Looks like my night is gonna be a short one. Well, I got work anyway, so it could be a good thing.

I sip quietly at the counter, watching Mandy work. There is some retro electronica playing, heavy on synths. It’s slow, warm, and making me sleepy.

That’s when I realize that girl at the other end of the counter is eyeing me. Is she? I think she is. Maybe. Definitely. She waves at me. Crap! I tentatively wave back. She slips down her stool and walks towards me. What do I do?

Watching her closing in is enough to make me blush. First impression: it’s a goddess. There’s a bouncy confidence in her step that can only be described as hot. She’s round all over and she walks like she’s made of water. Her long curly hair bounces with her. She smiles. I’d like to say it makes me melt but it would be more honest to say I’m breaking a sweat.

Relax, girl. Maybe she’s just looking for conversation and there’s no one else. Don’t blow a fuse before anything starts. Don’t fall before you even speak to her. Deep down, I swear at my stupid bleeding heart.

“Hi,” she says as she steps in my comfort zone. “Mind if I take a seat? It’s boring over there.”

My face still on fire, I smile and gesture at the stool next to me. At least if she’s straight she’s gonna get the picture fast. Am I usually that much of a blusher?

“It’s was pretty bleak over here too, so mm, welcome,” I say.

She sits and puts an elbow on the counter, resting her head. Her other hand rotates a syrupy drink, making the ice clink on the glass. She’s studying me, looking straight at me, and I wish I could be replaced by my confident imaginary doppelganger on the spot. “So, are you a regular here? I saw you talking with Mandy.”

“Yeah, I am. It’s been a while, though, I was… busy.” Liar. I sip the remains of my beer to hide my embarrassment. “What about you?”

“I come and go,” she says. “It’s not always easy to get an evening off.”

“Oh?” I say. If I have one chance at jumping on a conversation topic, it might be now. “What kind of job do you have, that keeps you so busy?”

Surprisingly, it’s her turn to blush, if I can call blushing the way her cheeks reveal a soft bronze shade. “No, my job is pretty easy. I mean, I work hard, but I’m my own boss and I like what I do, so… I’m sort of an archaeologist?”

“Wow,” I say. “That sounds great. I process chicken.”

She laughs. She’s laughing! Maybe all is not lost after all.

I hold my hand towards her. “I’m Deborah, by the way.”

She smiles and shakes my hand. “Domenica. Very nice to meet you.”

It’s the moment our neighborhood drunkards start banging on the glass door, screaming. “It’s coming! He’s coming! He will find you and make you his flesh!”