The occasional talk led to him touching her on the shoulder, the arm; eventually the thigh.

There was a guy who, in essence, resigned himself from the bar over inappropriate sexual behavior. He was in his early sixties, but could pass for ten years younger: full head of hair that he wore in a manner maybe reminiscent of James Dean, and he hadn't gone to fat or stooping. Dressed casual but clean. Polite.

 He was mostly known for playing the same four or five songs on the jukebox. Slow dreary songs from the past. They obviously meant something deep to him, but for the ones who did not share his particular memories: slow and dreary. Eric Burdon & The Animals' "San Franciscan Nights" was a constant. I have now heard that song at least three dozen times -- a cautious estimate at that; I never, ever, need to hear it again. As I said: particular memories. Not everyone feels stare-into-space wistful over a particular 'warm San Franciscan night'. From fifty years ago. Or to hear about it in song three dozen times.

 He developed a crush on a particular pretty girl at the bar. A lot of people have crushes on her, or at least can't help but stare at her ample cleavage. They would talk on occasion. She is in her early thirties, thirty years younger than him. And has a boyfriend. Whose circle intersects with some rough people. For background.

 The occasional talk led to him touching her on the shoulder, the arm; eventually the thigh. He would joke about them running away together, but it really was only a joke if you consider yearning to be a joke. She told him she wasn't comfortable with his touching. he'd stop for a few days, then: a hand on her shoulder, the arm. Then the thigh.

 She told him, forcefully, to stay away from her. He then repositioned himself on the other end of the bar, listened to slow, dreary songs from the Sixties and yearned. Oh how he yearned. And played more slow, dreary songs. I think you get the picture. And word went round that the boyfriend was not happy with this situation. The boyfriend whose circle intersects with some rough people

 Eventually he went to her and apologized for his behavior. The apology was accompanied by a hand on her shoulder, the arm. Before he could touch her thigh she was yelling at him, and the bartender told him to stay the hell away from her or he'd be kicked out, permanently. He then repositioned himself on the other end of the bar. And yearned.

 A few days later he stopped coming into the bar. He had resigned in disgrace. Or at least got out before the boyfriend took matters in his own hands. Rough people, etc etc.

 No doubt he is now frequenting another bar, playing slow, dreary songs from the Sixties on the jukebox. Maybe there is a new object of his desires. Maybe he is touching her on on the shoulder, the arm. Then the thigh. Warm San Franciscan Nights and all that.
- james james

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