A girl walks into a bar...

Do you mean, besides every man looking towards that booth. Whether he is single or with his S.O.... just can't help but look
 
BTDT. The cocktail waitress will come take your order! You should tip her. She works hard!
 
...has a seat in the corner booth.

What happens next?

___


You look across the table at me, as I was sitting there to begin with, reach into your purse, pull out a napkin, hand it across the table to me, and say "Damn you. Your lipsticks smeared again." (giggles)
 
...has a seat in the corner booth.

What happens next?

I wait to see if her man shows up as mostly likely will happen - if a girl wants to make it known she is available, she sits at the bar and flirts with the handsome bartender.
 
I wasn't dancing. Really! I wasn't. I was just standing maybe a little too close to the band. And I wasn't wearing "spray-on" jeans, either. That's BS. I put them on wet, sure, and they shrink to fit. They don't shrink my ass though. It really is just that tight. So, okay, my jeans are tight. But not "spray-on" tight.

And I was NOT "flipping my hair." Or "jiggling my boobs." I have long hair. It's blond, and halfway down my back. I'm a dancer. Usually my hair is wound up in a tight bun on the back of my head. When I go out I like to have it down. It frames my face and spills off my shoulders. Sometimes a strand gets in my face and I turn my head to brush it back. But that's not "flipping my hair."

"Jiggling my boobs?" seriously? LOOK at me. I'm a 30A. I look like I'm fourteen they don't jiggle, anyway. They shiver, like the green Jell-o you get at the cafeteria.

I was standing by one of the speaker-things. It was a big box and it said "Cerwin Vegas" on it. So I guess the band was from one of the casinos. So, okay, I was watching the drummer. I'm not a musician but I studied music as part of my dance training. I was watching the kick. I thought he was using one of those trick pedals. He was doing these triplets in the kik. It wasn't a trick pedal. He was just that fast.

The sound was coming out of the big box. I couldn' t hear it . I could feel it in my chest, like an extra heartbeat. So, okay, I was clapping on the back-beat and I was pretty turned on so I was probably swaying just a little, so yah, my hair was probably bouncing some, but I was NOT DANCING and I was NOT FLIPPING MY HAIR!

Jamie
 
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I wasn't dancing. Really! I wasn't. I was just standing maybe a little too close to the band. And I wasn't wearing "spray-on" jeans, either. That's BS. I put them on wet, sure, and they shrink to fit. They don't shrink my ass though. It really is just that tight. So, okay, my jeans are tight. But not "spray-on" tight.

And I was NOT "flipping my hair." Or "jiggling my boobs." I have long hair. It's blond, and halfway down my back. I'm a dancer. Usually my hair is wound up in a tight bun on the back of my head. When I go out I like to have it down. It frames my face and spills off my shoulders. Sometimes a strand gets in my face and I turn my head to brush it back. But that's not "flipping my hair."

"Jiggling my boobs?" seriously? LOOK at me. I'm a 30A. I look like I'm fourteen they don't jiggle, anyway. They shiver, like the green Jell-o you get at the cafeteria.

I was standing by one of the speaker-things. It was a big box and it said "Cerwin Vegas" on it. So I guess the band was from one of the casinos. So, okay, I was watching the drummer. I'm not a musician but I studied music as part of my dance training. I was watching the kick. I thought he was using one of those trick pedals. He was doing these triplets in the kik. It wasn't a trick pedal. He was just that fast.

The sound was coming out of the big box. I couldn' t hear it . I could feel it in my chest, like an extra heartbeat. So, okay, I was clapping on the back-beat and I was pretty turned on so I was probably swaying just a little, so yah, my hair was probably bouncing some, but I was NOT DANCING and I was NOT FLIPPING MY HAIR!

Jamie

As I was checking you out pego started throbbing
My jeans though not the spray on type either were tight enough for you to understand the slowly rising bulge and the angry veins throbbing
while you tried to hide behind a look of studied disdain
I knew you had seen what you were looking out for
I also say the nipples stiffen under the jumper
 
...has a seat in the corner booth.

What happens next?

She orders food and reads her book in the hope folks leave her alone - at least that’s what normally happens on my many work travels when I am forced to brave a bar alone ;)

Not exactly a lit answer though, you got dancers for that, :heart:
 
She orders food and reads her book in the hope folks leave her alone - at least that’s what normally happens on my many work travels when I am forced to brave a bar alone ;)

Not exactly a lit answer though, you got dancers for that, :heart:

Ha! So true. ;)

But sitting AT the bar leads to cheesy pick up lines and so I thought i’d Try a different approach.
 
I wasn't dancing. Really! I wasn't. I was just standing maybe a little too close to the band. And I wasn't wearing "spray-on" jeans, either. That's BS. I put them on wet, sure, and they shrink to fit. They don't shrink my ass though. It really is just that tight. So, okay, my jeans are tight. But not "spray-on" tight.

And I was NOT "flipping my hair." Or "jiggling my boobs." I have long hair. It's blond, and halfway down my back. I'm a dancer. Usually my hair is wound up in a tight bun on the back of my head. When I go out I like to have it down. It frames my face and spills off my shoulders. Sometimes a strand gets in my face and I turn my head to brush it back. But that's not "flipping my hair."

"Jiggling my boobs?" seriously? LOOK at me. I'm a 30A. I look like I'm fourteen they don't jiggle, anyway. They shiver, like the green Jell-o you get at the cafeteria.

I was standing by one of the speaker-things. It was a big box and it said "Cerwin Vegas" on it. So I guess the band was from one of the casinos. So, okay, I was watching the drummer. I'm not a musician but I studied music as part of my dance training. I was watching the kick. I thought he was using one of those trick pedals. He was doing these triplets in the kik. It wasn't a trick pedal. He was just that fast.

The sound was coming out of the big box. I couldn' t hear it . I could feel it in my chest, like an extra heartbeat. So, okay, I was clapping on the back-beat and I was pretty turned on so I was probably swaying just a little, so yah, my hair was probably bouncing some, but I was NOT DANCING and I was NOT FLIPPING MY HAIR!

Jamie

And so says Lit’s best writer and comic.
 
As I was checking you out pego started throbbing
My jeans though not the spray on type either were tight enough for you to understand the slowly rising bulge and the angry veins throbbing
while you tried to hide behind a look of studied disdain
I knew you had seen what you were looking out for
I also say the nipples stiffen under the jumper

When I get a little high like this I can FEEL eyes on me. I'm not drunk. I'm holding my second Vodka gimlet. But then I weigh 95 lbs and I'm a girl. Cheap drunk. So, okay, I'm high and a little turned on. I'm in the music. Not "into," IN, the music.


So, yah, my nipples. My breasts are small and so are my nipples they are very sensitive. They are ALWAYS stiff like that. When I'm backstage the guys are like "headlights on, Jamie? and I'm like "fuck you, Cam!"

So I'm watching the drummer. I'm not beyond groupieing s musician, but not tonight. I've been on my knees in crowded dressing rooms. It's way overrated.

I can FEEL guys' eyes on me. I know I'm not that hot. They"re wondering if I'm really old enough to be in here. I go through the same routine at every door: license, faculty ID, transit card.

Girls think they can "sneak" a look. We know it doesn't work but we do it anyway. You see me take you in.but you don't feel it until our eyes meet.

I don't think I meant for that to happen.

When I look into a person's eyes, even across a crowded room it's like a brain-to brain connection. It's like direct memory access on a computer. You bypass all that input-output bullshit, the pickup lines, trying to say what you want without saying what you want.

I look away but we are still connected. I finish my gimlet and turn toward you holding my empty glass.

I'm not afraid to show "want," even in public. My eyes are large, liquid as they take you in.
 
She orders food and reads her book in the hope folks leave her alone - at least that’s what normally happens on my many work travels when I am forced to brave a bar alone ;)

Not exactly a lit answer though, you got dancers for that, :heart:

Look, AP... we were hoping for a sex scene. You fucked it up! šŸ˜‚
 
When I get a little high like this I can FEEL eyes on me. I'm not drunk. I'm holding my second Vodka gimlet. But then I weigh 95 lbs and I'm a girl. Cheap drunk. So, okay, I'm high and a little turned on. I'm in the music. Not "into," IN, the music.


So, yah, my nipples. My breasts are small and so are my nipples they are very sensitive. They are ALWAYS stiff like that. When I'm backstage the guys are like "headlights on, Jamie? and I'm like "fuck you, Cam!"

So I'm watching the drummer. I'm not beyond groupieing s musician, but not tonight. I've been on my knees in crowded dressing rooms. It's way overrated.

I can FEEL guys' eyes on me. I know I'm not that hot. They"re wondering if I'm really old enough to be in here. I go through the same routine at every door: license, faculty ID, transit card.

Girls think they can "sneak" a look. We know it doesn't work but we do it anyway. You see me take you in.but you don't feel it until our eyes meet.

I don't think I meant for that to happen.

When I look into a person's eyes, even across a crowded room it's like a brain-to brain connection. It's like direct memory access on a computer. You bypass all that input-output bullshit, the pickup lines, trying to say what you want without saying what you want.

I look away but we are still connected. I finish my gimlet and turn toward you holding my empty glass.

I'm not afraid to show "want," even in public. My eyes are large, liquid as they take you in.

Sounds sexy.
 
hmm...

I walk over with a quizzical look on my face and say "Can I ask you a personal question? Cocktail or wine? :rose:
 
Barmaid (we'll call her Carla) walks over, takes her order. Keeps 'em coming. Girl passes out. Wakes up with a wine glass in her hand.

What wine?

Who's wine?

Where the Hell did I dine?
 
Other barmaid (we'll call her Diane) walks over and asks, 'do you feel like I do?'
 
The director yells, "ACTION!", because a girl should ask for what she wants, rather than blindly hoping that whatever comes her way will be interesting and good.
 
Barmaid (we'll call her Carla) walks over, takes her order. Keeps 'em coming. Girl passes out. Wakes up with a wine glass in her hand.

What wine?

Who's wine?

Where the Hell did I dine?

Hopefully the OP didn't do more than dance!
 
Barmaid (we'll call her Carla) walks over, takes her order. Keeps 'em coming. Girl passes out. Wakes up with a wine glass in her hand.

What wine?

Who's wine?

Where the Hell did I dine?

That actually happened to me buy not in this story.

Jamie
 
Look, AP... we were hoping for a sex scene. You fucked it up! šŸ˜‚

*I* was sort if hoping for a sex-dcene too. I mean a braless headlight girl in a tank, jumper and tight Jeans, looking up at you with liquid eyes snd holding an empty glass.

"Jesus Christ!" I mutter to myself under my breath. "What dors a girl have to do around here to get bought a fucking drink?"
.

"When in doubt, glitter it out" I remember from my high school daze on the kick squad. But I don"t have any glitter so I just lick my lips

Jamie
 
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