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" tilted her head back and wolfed it down in one long gulp. Darlene was in a class by herself, and that was a problem. " she leaned into me until our noses touched while her hand moved to my knee and slowly slid along the inside of my leg. It was as cliché as shit, but I couldn't help myself. She had just made me an offer I couldn't refuse. We became romantically involved as much out of laziness as out of lust.She sparkled like a diamond in a coal bin and scared the shit out of the men she approached. As Darlene studied me, her dark look of frustration gradually brightened, and her eyes sparkled as her grim expression transformed into the predatory smile of a fox. I answered by placing my hand on her knee and mirrored her journey of exploration. Neither of us cared to invest the necessary time to search for the perfect partner, so we settled for close enough for right now." if they had been living off the grid for 15-years this group had something going for it "You know, friends who help friends.Anyway, they are heavy duty into the survivalist movement." If you learn where someone lives, you can start to make good guesses as to their culture. The closer to the road, the more connected they were to conventional reality."Honey, they don't have an address, and they're not on a road," Darlene moved to the living room sofa, and I followed. I had visited many communes in my younger days, and everyone had a personality ranging from boring to batshit crazy. "Fifty miles give or take," she leaned into me as she sat next to me. We were friends back in college." "What kind of friends?We sat across from each other at the kitchen table as, like an unwanted house guest, a shroud of gloom settled over the room. "Damn, can't believe I forgot 'em," she slapped the palm of her hand on the table and let out a laugh. Darlene's exotic view of life trended toward the spiritual rather than the religious. My friends from college are living in an off the grid cabin in the Rockies.

"Maybe you should offer to beat them off with a stick, you know, fifty shades of kinky? The certified letter ordering our eviction was the last straw."I love this drink," she inhaled the beverage, chugging it down in one long gulp. How can anyone love a drink without taking the time to appreciate the subtle by-play of flavors? " she smiled before dispatching the last White Russian. After a few months together, the real-estate development company in which Darlene had invested fifteen years of her life went belly-up, and then her last two paychecks bounced.Thirst quenched for the moment, Darlene resumed her quest for tonight's bed partner. The rubber checks set up a cascading overdraft chain reaction.Familiarity grew comfortable and gave way to conversation as we observed the ebb and flow of tavern life. One Friday night the stars governing our relationship aligned like the bars on a slot machine. One of these stud-muffins is going home with me," she chuckled with a little shiver and scanned the bar for targets of opportunity. What a curious blend of emotions for a virtual stranger. Most of the men in the tavern looked like drop-outs from Blubber Buddies or some such weight-watching group. "Compliments of the house," Our curious barkeep did a visual inventory of his own as he set a beautifully mixed and handcrafted White Russian in front of Darlene.Heads turned as Darlene strutted into the tavern in a blur of legs, cleavage, and the predatory smile of a fox. Her mini-dress must have been a belt in a previous life, and her tissue-thin blouse was unbuttoned down to her navel. "That's a nice outfit you are almost wearing," I did a double take when she hopped up on the barstool next to mine. " I nodded as I filed that image into my long-term memory vault. She took a small sip and savored it like a gourmet, "Perfect! Darlene hopped down from her seat, and like Alexander the Great, set out to conquer the known world. She was the Alpha-Fox loose in the hen house, radiating sexual availability like a neon sign in the night.

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