The Best One

She was dressed in a halter top with short over-the-knees hot pants. Her makeup was leery; shouting its loudness almost. Her hair was frizzled into tight curls that kept blowing in the wind. She was smoking a cigarette, all the time tapping her cheap shiny boots against the ground.

I found myself drawing near her. Her unnatural style and provocative make-up told me all that I needed to know. Her dress was so tight; her breasts were sharply accentuated by the strapless brassiere that she wore. Her hips were barely covered by those low-waist hot pants. She was beautiful, but I guess, prostitutes aren’t exactly the type of women that you should be seen talking to.

Despite that repelling attire, I wanted to talk to her. I guess social oddities like I could be never bothered by the highs and lows of societal laws. I could almost hear my mother whisper beside my ear, feel that urge tug to move on to a safer, well-lit place. But my mother was not there, and I kept on standing in the dark alleyway. 

I was a shy person. I didn’t know how to start a conversation, let alone go on with one. So I kept staring at her. Despite that overwhelming and loud sensuality, there was a troubled innocence in her eyes. Our eyes met and I looked down. When I looked up, she was smiling.

Two youths staggering along the road approached her. She blew rings of smoke into their faces as she yelled at them to go away. Presently one of them placed his hand on her hips, tugging at her hot pants. She slapped him and the other thug twisted her hand. He slapped her and she'd have fallen had he not been holding on to her so tightly. I saw red.

Judo works wonders. Just with a flick of your hand, you can pin down a person several times your size. I landed two neat kicks between their legs twisting their hands grotesquely behind their backs. My elbows made a grisly sound as they crushed on their stomachs. They coughed and spit blood as they stared with drunken surprise at the prowess of a seventeen-year-old to take down drunken bastards. Then they staggered off.

Her bruised hand met mine in a warm handshake as I looked hesitatingly into her shaky eyes. She bedazzled me with her beautiful smile.

In my life, later on, I may have won many awards for my novels and short stories, but her smile was still the best one.