Proposition
A hot hand clapped me on the back and I turned as a young man shouldered his way beside me to the bar. He had large, dark eyes half-hidden by a fall of bleached blonde hair, and full lips that spread into an impossibly large grin. A Mick Jagger grin. Leaning close to my ear, he shouted, “Listen,” then fell silent. His warm breath smelled of whiskey—where it touched me, it curled the ends of my hair and flushed my cheek.
Raising my voice over the crowd, I hollered back, “What?” I could hear my boyfriend Robert on my other side, his laughter high and thin like glass about to break. “Look, I’m with someone…”
The guy shook his head. “I like you,” he said, his words a slur that I only made out by reading his lips. “So listen, I’ll blow you in the bathroom. A cheap d**k licking,
