Four inches tall? Even Victor couldn’t hide the look of both admiration and discomfort that crossed his face. He imagined something forcing his heel up four inches and dancing on it, no less… that had to be torture of some sort. But what really blew his mind was six fucking inches. He couldn’t begin to understand homophobia or misogyny, but when women shoved themselves into six-inch heels, he really couldn’t understand that. Most men would probably cry trying to walk around a room in something like that, in fact, he envisioned himself giving up within a couple of paces.
Why the hell was he thinking of himself in heels. He had to stop that, he thought, shaking his head a little and attributed it to the bit of booze. “Six inches sounds… like torture. How do you live when you wear those, just thinking about it…”
Shit, he’d mentioned thinking about it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. “It sounds kind of cruel and medieval. Like corsets. Um, I don’t get to look many people in the eye either. Seems like I might be able to look you in the eye, though,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. It was alright for a cute, curvy, petite girl to be small, but a man? Yeah, he was definitely embarrassed on that front and looked at the floor after he said it, sighing quietly. Of all of the things he had to put up with, he couldn’t change his height and it just… killed him.
When Ilinca mentioned she liked purple too and it was ‘regal’, he took a hardy swig of his own glass and smiled softly. Just what he though, really. He’d always loved purple and he liked how she put it… ‘regal’. He thought it was ‘cute’ at most but he liked the power of a regal color and thought that he’d have to wear his lavender sweater next time they met. If they met again… he hoped she’d want to talk to him again.
Making people a good shot usually led things to a positive note.
He raised his glass with her and clinked it gently, as not to disturb the colors in her shot glass and leaned his head back, grimacing a bit at the burn but enjoying it as much as he wrinkled his nose at it. So familiar, after all.
He watched her, waiting for feedback and upon getting it, he smiled and gave a little bow in her direction with his head, muttering, “Thank you very much. It’s definitely an experiment and I’d really like to make it into a cocktail. I think the ladies here would very much enjoy it… not that I saw a ton of ladies tonight.”
The more he thought about it, he tried to remember them among the faces. “I saw some with their husbands or boyfriends, a few single women…” he recalled out loud, looking up at the ceiling in pensiveness. “Huh. Do you think lesbians come here? I feel like lesbians would like burlesque.”
It was then that he caught himself and frightened that Ilinca would be disgusted or upset, his face flushed a little and he tried to save himself. “Uh, not that… they have to be or anything. I know girls are different, like… guys would never watch another guy strip unless he was gay, I think,” he thought? He knew. “But girls can you know, kiss each other hello or goodbye and just be friendly. I was just wondering. Sorry.”
Victor just bit his lip and his eyes darted around for a moment, trying to change the subject. His gaze finally fell on her dark eyes. “I like sweeter drinks, a little bit sweeter. Like Fireball or Honey Jack, Sweet Tea Vodka…um… can you teach me that toast?”
He was sheepish about it, his lips lopsided in a half smile. “I really like languages but I only know English and Korean. What language was that?”