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MR. PERSONALITY (01 September 2008)

Just as the song stopped pounding out of the speakers and rattling the last flakes of paint off of the walls, the front door to the club burst open with a flourish and blast of cold air, and in strode..
"Johnny!" All the men cheerfully shouted.
"Johnny!" All women squealed.
Johnny flashed a mega-watt grin, and tossed off a wave, his hair, his leather jacket, his mirrored sunglasses all black, all catching the light and flashing it back into the room. He moved in darkness and sparkles.
Three or four girls came scurrying over, their eyes lit up as much as Johnny's fashion accessories. They snuggled up to him, and he wrapped them in a collective squeeze.
"Candy! How's my girl? Bambi! Brenda!"
His sudden entourage trailing along with him, Johnny worked his way further into the crowd, shaking hands and grinning ever more widely, acres of teeth.
The short, dark, man lounging at the bar turned back to his drink, shaking his head appreciatively.
"That Johnny. What a guy."

"What do you all see in that jerk?"
He turned in surprise to the light brown-haired woman beside him. She wore a matching red top and mini-skirt that, that anywhere else, would have been highly daring, but this night, in this room, somehow made her look like a Quaker.
"Huh? Oh, hiya, Sandra. Whadda mean, whadda we see? That's Johnny."
She stared back him, her blue eyes narrowed down to slits. She tapped her percise nails on the bar.
"My point exactly. He's a self-important, free-loading, arrogant.."
"Guys! Hi!" Johnny leaned between them, and cocked a finger-gun at the bald, cadaverous, bartender. "We both know what I need, Gus." Almost before the words were out of his mouth, a tall amber beaker, filled with bubbles, was sliding into his waiting hand. Johnny's glasses flickered over at the man at the bar. He clapped him on the back with his free hand. "Hector! My man! How's it going!"
"Going great, Johnny!"
"Glad to hear it!" Quick swivel. "Sandra, baby! How are things with you?"
"What happened to your little fan club?" Sandra asked, a thick layer of frost coating each word.
"Who? Oh. Brenda and the others? They're around somewhere." The tiniest, most subliminal, of speculative pauses. "Say, Sandra, how about you and me blow this crypt (no offense, Gus) and go someplace a little more lively? Party till dawn? Whadda say?"
"No thanks." Ice now, instead of frost.
"Some other time, then? I can dig it." Johnny was in motion again, leaving an empty glass spinning on the bar in his wake, much like a hubcap blown off of a fast-moving car. "Well, it's been fun, guys, but gotta be makin' tracks." He waved to the crowd in general. "Later all. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Bye, Johnny!" The voice came from everywhere, a collective thing.
Johnny strolled towards the door, the crowd smoothly parting around him. Just as he reached the exit, he suddenly made another of his quick turns, and looked back down the bar. Sandra glanced over, and their gazes met.
His lenses gave a little flicker as the multi-colored lights on the dance floor started to pulse and the throbbing music once again began to swell.
"Uuuh!" Sandra's eyes opened wide, and she popped off her bar-stool as if the stained seat contained a small spring-loaded catapult. "Johnny!" She squealed.
She scurried across the crowded room to where he stood, her eyes lit up as brightly as stars. They intertwined and kissed, long and sloppily, both of his hands roaming freely across her shapely ass. When they finally broke apart, she was flushed and panting. Johnny grinned down at her.
"I knew you'd come around eventually, babe! What say, tonight, you and me paint this town red, and then go back to my place? Party till dawn?"
She gazed up at him, her gaze becoming rapt. Worshipful. She eagerly pressed her breasts, her entire body, against him.
"Anywhere, Johnny!" Her eyes were stars.
He tousled her hair. "That's my girl!"
And they were gone, out the door and into the night.
Hector, once again, shook his head and, once again, turned back to his drink.
Gus had already cleared away the empty glass.
"That Johnny. What a guy.."

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