After she handed him his tab, she spotted me, and a smile brighter than the lights of Paris hit me like the spotlight from the Eiffel Tower. She sauntered over with her hourglass frame, her eyes catlike because she’d done her makeup differently. She made my drink, a scotch on the rocks, a double. “This one’s on the house—just because you’re f*****g hot.” She winked at me, so sexy when she was confident in who she was, and then moved down to the next customer. It was a busy night, so she didn’t have as much time to chat as she normally did.
I felt a stare on the side of my face, so I turned to look.
The guy she’d turned down just looked at me.
“She’s my girl,” I explained, granting him a bit of mercy.
Thoroughly embarrassed by his failed shot, he just left, leaving his full drink there
