remote cards

We are sitting in a bar when a girl comes in, a friend of a friend, so she comes over and chats to us. How are you liking Austria? She asks me. I’ve only been here a day, it’s rained most of that time, we spent the afternoon in a museum. What can I say? She has come in with two shady looking guys, who don’t come over to join us. They sit at the bar, watching everyone, talking to each other. We leave about then, so she goes back to join them. Later, we are in a packed club, a crush of bodies, and I see her in the crowd, amongst the cloud of smoke and flashing lights, the pounding music. We don’t stay long, having wandered in long enough to get a flavour of the place, before wandering on to the next place. We manage to get a table in Cubus, in the corner, with the lights of the AEC’s façade still going through their colour spectrum beside us. We’ve been there a few minutes when the two shady guys appear at the next table, no sign of the girl this time, just the two of them at a table, looking shifty. A waitress appears almost immediately. I swear I hear her say – so this is the bag? To which they nod. And she grabs a bag from the floor by their feet, where I hadn’t seen it. And she is off with it, returning a minute later with a beer for each of them. Five minutes later a waiter comes along, stands and chats to them, he is grinning, pleased about something. The two guys sit a while, the beers barely touched, instead nursing soft drinks, smoking, looking shiftily around.

Labels: ars electronica, bar, girl, guys, linz

I am in the photograph that she takes, writing this I guess. Perhaps, depending on her focus. Sitting in the cinema bar. Two guys came in and got themselves drinks. They chatter away – foreign – but I’m not sure from where, some where Mediterranean? One is tubby, his hair straggly and thinning, his belly pronounced, a tufty goatee. The other is younger, more handsome, dressed more smartly, though they could still be brothers. They’ve been here a little while before she arrives. And she is eye catching. Carefully styled hair, shoulder length, wavy, dark, with her fringe a blonde tint. She wears a short, tight, zebra print dress. It shows off her nicely shaped rear and props up and compliments her cleavage. The dress leaves her shoulders bare, it has a back slit that shows a bra strap and bare flesh, it is short enough (and rides up when she sits) to show her nice legs (wearing black tights). She wears gold rings, one with chains across the back of her hand, connecting to a bracelet around her wrist. As soon as she sits down the produces the camera and they take turns snapping each other. The tubby guy get the camera and tells the two to get together. So she clambers into his lap and they snuggle together. Staying that way even when they stop taking pictures. The younger guy running his hand up and down her bare back, his hand through her hair, and they kiss, wetly. At times they switch to English as though they are not quite all from the same place, or they can easily express certain things in a different language. The dress is thin, it clings to her flesh, his hand through that slit, grasps her pink bra, and undoes the clasp. Holding the ends in his fist. She looks at him, a stare, until he does it back up again. Then she moves off his lap, back to her own chair. About ten minutes pass and words are exchanged. The tubby guy stands up and leaves, there almost seems to be an element of hostility in the air. The couple exchange glances after he has gone, before a moment later and she is back in his lap, kissing and having her hair stroked. He fiddles with her bra again, this time she slaps him, enough to get his attention focussed. After a while the pair get up and leave, looking at their watches, time for the film to start. Heads turn all around to watch her leave, to watch that dress cling to her body. She really is something, and totally over done for a Sunday afternoon in the cinema, but she doesn’t care. That’s that then? But five minutes later, the tubby guy reappears, coming round the corner to return to that table. He stops, looks confused. Presumably he popped out for something, but took longer than expected – they aren’t there, so he turns again, and goes off to find them.

Labels: bar, cinema, dress, girl, glasgow, guys, zebra

Two guys come into the cinema bar, I guess Spanish, skin shade and the language they are speaking. But its one of those cases where I’m only catching fragments from where I am sat, and they could just as easily turn out to be Polish. One of them is quite tubby, probably the older of the two. His belly sticks out, his upper torso is meaty, his hair is scraggly thin, and he has a tufty attempt at a beard. He is dressed entirely in black. The other guy has a better build, looks younger, healthier. His hair is a little thing on top, but not nearly as bare as his friend. The two sit at a table with 3 chairs, sat opposite each other over a table, with the third chair cornered against the wall. They sit and drink beers and chatter away cheerfully. Then the bombshell arrives – she is wearing heels, gives her something of a sway to her walk; she is wearing sheer black tights on long legs; she is wearing a figure hugging zebra patterned dress, its glossy, its shimmery, it screams sex, it rides up her thighs as she sits, it clings to her ass regardless, it dips at the front where her cleavage is shoved into your face, along the back its baggy, and open, so you can see bare flesh, and the pink clasp of a bra; her hair is wavy, Mediterranean, sculpted in gentle curls, dark to her shoulders, except for blonde highlights through her fringe. Yeah, bombshell, and she is with these two guys? They make her clamber past them for the free seat, and almost as soon as she has sat down she has a camera out. She takes a picture of tubby, flash. She takes a picture of skinny, flash. Tubby takes a picture of her, flash. Then he encourages skinny and her to sit together, so she climbs into his lap like a cat. Flash. Once there she stays there, his hand straying into the gap in the back of her dress while they talk, stroking at the naked skin. They kiss. He unfastens her bra, one end of the clip in each hand as he looks at her, teasing, waiting for her reaction. She scowls at him till he fastens her back up, and she takes that as her queue to return to her own seat. Minutes pass, tubby suddenly stands up, and leaves – it seems surprising, the couple look at each other for a moment. But it seems like a good excuse for her to crawl into his lap again, so she does. They kiss, loudly. He says something. She slaps him, classic movie star slap. Then they kiss again, the drama! Another five minutes and they stand up, take their tickets for their film and head up to the screen. Eyes turning to watch her as she leaves, that clinging dress seeming to sparkle. Well, that’s that. Except another five minutes later, the tubby guy staggers round the corner back into the bar. Stops in front of the table where they were sitting, looks confused, then leaves again.

Labels: bombshell, cinema, dress, glasgow, guys, zebra

Two gay guys take a seat in Starbucks in Borders with a pile of fashion/gossip magazines. They have a dolled up art school look, so that for a second I think they are punk girls. Though it is clear quick enough that they are not, though the art school suggestion might hold true. The brunette with sculpted hair is the louder of the two, the blonde content to look at the pictures and listen to the steady stream of cattiness. Though, when he does talk, his voice is low enough to be inaudible at this distance.

“Don’t Dolce & Gabbana look more like brothers than lovers?”
“I couldn’t live in America - not with a 1st lady with eyebrows like that!” With that comment I wonder what country he thinks he is actually living in rather than the Scotland he actually is.
“I just don’t get Christian Bale!”
He points at some salad shown in advert, picking out the various ingredients and what he would eat, before shifting from bitchiness to diets.

Labels: bale, bitching, blonde, brunette, christian, dolce, gabbana, gay, gossip, guys, obama