Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Dame

She slinked into the barstool next to mine and threw a smile at the barback washing glasses. It was a smile that men find themselves hard pressed to forget. She laid her clutch on the bar and rummaged through, taking out her phone and flipping it open to check the time or her messages. I ogled her out of the corner of my eye, with nothing better to do.

"What can I get you?" asked the bartender, wiping his hands on a towel. "Hmm... I'm feeling summery... How're your mojitos?" She didn't speak the words so much as purr them. "Best in town," the bartender replied, tucking the towel into his back pocket. She flashed her smile at him and nodded and he went about fixing the drink. I took a swig of my beer and stole the chance to check her out more properly. Black hair, shimmering like the coat of a jaguar. And just as dangerous.

2 comments:

  1. I think you are missing a 'dame' in that retailing of the story sir.....

    ReplyDelete
  2. obviously the story isn't finished. it's like a teaser, or something.

    totally not because i'm too lazy to write the rest.

    ReplyDelete

If this story involves you, I only ask that you don't give away any possible embellishments.