The Other Night out at the Bar

So I am sitting at the bar last night, had my semi-regular stool and spot, Jack with the Bud chaser, book in hand, minding my own business, when this well-endowed woman damn near tackles me off the chair. Actually, she was doing her best to hug me, I think, because the first words out of her mouth were, "Do you like strippers?"

What in the hell do you say to a woman that asks that. Funny you should ask. I told her. "Yeah, I do." (Imagine that Ray Stevens style like in "The Streak")

"You like the way my tits look?" as she pushes them against me more.

I look down upon her ample cleavage, and say, "Yeah, I do."

"You wanna come see me dance naked? I'll let you look at my pussy..." she says, trying to be seductive. At the same tie I am trying to disengage her arms from me and stand her upright instead of using my lap for a bed.

"Not tonight, Honey. I got enough for me to do right here and now. How about a rain check?" I give her the smile, you know, the one that is supposed to reassure people you know what is best.

She straightens up, shakes her breasts back and forth across my arm, gives me one of those fake puppy dog grins, and says "I will be watching for you. You better be front row on Friday."

"Not a problem. you best be careful going home now." She stumbles on over to the door, where another gal she was with, was waiting for her, and they staggered out the door. I was sitting in my chair thinking 'WTF was that?!? A proposition from a titty dancer to go see her on Friday night, and she didn't even tell me where!'

I shook my head.

Sipped my Jack.

Lit a cigarette.

Blew the smoke out of my mouth.

Turned to the next page in my book.