"The Bar Fly & The Fugitive"

"Peter Jacobs" -- aka Roger Cline, the name in which the U.S. Marshall's service was searching for him -- watched the patrons of the bar from a corner booth. It was your typical neighborhood watering hole, with the bartender greeting nearly every person entering the door by name. Peter studied each of the men and women, but his interest eventually centered on one particular woman sitting near the far end of the bar.

She exchanged words with nearly every other regular at one point or another. Some she seemed to like. Others she obviously didn't. But what interested Peter more about her was her interaction with the men who hit on her. Several did over the two hours that Peter studied her. Some seemed to be locals. She shot them down, some politely, some not so much so. Some of the denials included friendly banter, making Peter think it was more a game between her and the men than true attempts at getting her out of her clothes.

The most interesting interactions came from men Peter didn't think were regulars. She seemed to be very interested a couple of times, and once she even stood and finished off her drink, preparing to head out the door. But something happened between her stool and the exit, and suddenly she was returning -- rather unsteadily, it appeared -- to order yet another beer.

Peter wondered what the man had said or done. Had she noticed a wedding band or perhaps a sun tan line from one that had been removed? Had the man simply said something offensive? Peter couldn't know. He returned to watching her from the darkness of his corner booth. He checked his watch. The bartender would be announcing last call soon. He stood and walked to the bathroom, draining the snake before picking the lock on the condom machine and removing a dozen of the little rain coats.

When he returned to his booth, he didn't sit. He lifted his beer and sipped at it, waiting for her to notice him. When she did, Peter was happy to see her smile broadly and lift her glass in polite salute. He returned the smile, drained his glass, and made his way over to the bar, stopping next to her.

"One more please," Peter said when the bartender looked his way. He looked to his left and found the woman looking him in the air, the smile still present. Without looking away, he said for the drink pourer's benefit, "And another for my friend here."

He turned to face her directly and offered out his hand. "Peter Jacobs. And you are...?"

(NOTES: I am looking for a female writing partner who shows concern for her spelling, punctuation, and grammar; who posts at least 5 days a week; and who likes a great deal of story to go along with her smaller amount of sex, meaning this isn't intended to be one long sex scene. The plot is that he is a fugitive looking for a place to hide out. There could be some tense moments, possibly event some non-consensual acts, perhaps even some hostage taking ... and more. PM me if you are interested.)