I found myself studying his profile, trying to reconcile the fact that beneath the floor on which we now sat, on stools at the bar, my bestie’s big and square hands had taken my face and held it gently after having his lips on mine. The cushy sheep skin covered seat was a padded haven for my caboose. He sat beside me while I pondered the unbelievable truth that he’d won our wager fair and square.
And now I owed him.
And now I owed him.I’d wagered the only thing of value to him, my body, and lost. The irony didn’t escape me. The very thing I’d loathed for so long, and tried to starve into submission, was now getting me into trouble again.
What was I thinking?
My stool butt up against the brass foot rail below the high counter which glowed with the light of the overhead chandaliers made
