It was a dark and stormy night. Look, I know it's a cliche. And a really bad one too. But it honestly was. There wasn't a lot going on in the pool hall, just the jukebox playing some Memphis Blues. Overall the bar looked worn-down and filled with character. Picture the worn out bar you have in your head. Yep. This is it.
Bar faithful Justin sat in the corner. He was nearly done with his first longneck of the night. His 9-5 persona was nothing like the guy you'd see right now. A stockbroker by trade, his release on a Saturday night was the social environment. He needs to not be in his stuffy shirt and tie, making the rich richer. He needs to be somebody else, adorned with his solid gray t-shirt, jeans and his work boots.
As he sat in the corner, a mysterious woman walked in. Riding her motorcycle for the first time, she had on her jeans, boots, dark riding jacket and a shiny silver helmet. Appearing soaked and drenched, she started off by taking her jacket and putting it on on the entrance hook to the bar. Upon taking off her helmet she turned around. She shook out her burgundy hair with the same energy Princess Leah did in "Return of the Jedi." He did not know that was a thing for him until that moment and she triggered that emotion. Scoping her out, she had on riding jeans that were made for accentuating her every curve. She had on a pair of glasses he thought were very sexy. Usually kept this one pretty close to the vest, but a woman wearing glasses during his formative years he acquainted with intelligence and his primal mind was aroused by intelligence.
She took a stool at the bar, asked for whatever was on tap and began to slowly nurse her beer. Justin, immediately intrigued by her, weighed the option of speaking with her. She turned around and glanced his way. It was just long enough for her to get his attention and vice versa. Partially convinced that she was inviting him to the stool with her eyes, he slid next to her. The conversation flowed easily; his secret power is that he knows a little bit about everything and had no problem being able to converse with anybody about anything. This was Cliff Claven from cheers but charming.
She delighted in their conversation. She walked into the bar, not necessarily seeking it; however, she was happy for the companionship. Had she wanted to drink alone she had an apartment whereby she could have done that. Most of the time finding good companionship, even platonic, was the act of kissing a lot of frogs. It wasn't necessarily a prince she was looking for, but he was good at conversation, had fun eyes to look at and did she love a good beard.
