The redhead plays pool at the table adjacent to us. She leans on the table, stick aiming, intense concentration. I’m envious of those sleeve tattoos—sexy murals frolicking around her pale shoulders and arms. Here’s my chance. We walk over, very slowly, Steve McQueen cool. She glances over. I gaze at her. She doesn’t turn away.
“Dude, she’s eyeing you,” Dwayne informs me loudly; he thinks he’s whispering, as he clutches my shoulder.
“Who?” asks Jenny. Continue reading