After many more miles and a couple more hours of drifting through the valley, he passed through a small and modest town that seemed like an ideal place to stop and spend the night. As always, the first stop was the bar.

“A beer,” he said to the girl behind the counter. She had her back facing him and didn’t seem to hear, so he pounded on the countertop and repeated in a more commanding tone: “A beer, and make sure it’s a cold one.”

The lady turned slowly, confidently and gave him a piercing look as her lush red lips pouted ever so slightly. She leisurely reached down below under the counter and returned with her hand grasping a bottle of beer.

“A beer,” she started, as she moved towards him and slightly lifted the bottle to his face, “Cold.” And down went the poor bottle, hard, onto the top of the wooden counter barely an inch from the drifter’s fingers.

He was flustered and at the same time aroused by such a show of bravado from the opposite sex. He said nothing, but kept his eyes fixed at her; and she wore the same cold glance.

It almost felt like a dance. No movement whatsoever, but a dance nonetheless. With each pair of eyes peering into the other person’s soul, both of them moved without moving.

Finally, as the stare turned into a look of intrigue and the steely pout turned into a gentle grin, the barmaid gave way.

“I don’t suppose you’re the type that makes a lot of friends, eh stranger?” was her sarcastic icebreaker.

“No, not really. I usually ride alone and pass from town to town. Sometimes I take a few pleasures along the way.”
“Like an ice cold beer?”

“Yeah. And sometimes something colder than that,” he replied with a smirk.

The barmaid was amused at the innuendo. She found him charming, with a very rough quality about him. Yet, it was an easy chemistry from the very start.

Customers came and went, and she served them at the bar as the recluse made himself comfortable at the far end. When there was no one to serve, she found herself gravitating towards that far end, chatting up the gruff fellow and sharing a lot of laughs.

As the evening was getting old, what precariously started with the trading of cold stares gradually turned into an easy banter. And as the night was wrapping up, with the help of some good alcohol, the banter turned into a flirtatious exchange. By the time the bar was closed, both of them already knew what was going to happen.

Barely a word was said as he was finishing up his last bottle of beer and she was wiping the few last glasses at the bar. Just like hours before, all it took was a fleeting look, and they knew how to do their dance.

The following morning, he found himself waking up against the most stunning woman imaginable at that moment. After sliding himself out of bed, he stared at her intently - and it was a beautiful sight: Like a flawlessly captured photograph.

The morning light sneaked through the window as the sun was rising and it highlighted every curve and detail on her body: The way her auburn hair draped softly over her shoulders… the manner by which her face gently snug up against the pillow… the way that the blanket barely covered her body, as if merely an ornament… the way she daintily rustled, turned - half-awake - and how her chest gently rose and fell as she took a deep breath before going back to a serene and comfortable sleep.

He didn’t even have to try committing her to memory. The sight of her that morning was branded permanently into his thoughts. As he walked out the front door of the cabin and the warmth of the daybreak greeted him, he knew for sure that this was the most perfect moment in his life. There were no regrets as he got back on his motorcycle; and after talking a few more minutes to take it all in, he rode back into the slithering road.

As the purr of his motor turned into a roar, the barmaid woke up in alarm. After a few moments though, she realized exactly what was happening. But she didn’t rush out to stop him. She knew this was exactly how it should be: A perfect moment. A fleeting flight of fancy tucked into a random page in their lives. It wasn’t meant to be a long and drawn-out fantasy.

The roar of the motor was at a peak now, and after a few moments, she heard it speed off. The sound slowly got softer as she replayed the events of the previous night in her head. The dance… the stare… the touch… the kiss… the pleasure… the comfort… and peace…

…until all that accompanied her that morning was the silence of the valley.