This wasn't my idea of a good time, but I suppose I was going to have to make the best of it.
Rob, my co-worker and close friend, had dragged me to a singles party in downtown New York. The music was pretty bad, but the women were gorgeous. I doubted claims of them being single, but I didn't do much. While Rob was out attempting to get a date for next week, I sat at the bar and contemplated everything in my life. My dead-end office job. My non-existent sex life. My half-ass apartment on the 17th floor of a huge sky rise. Yeah, life seemed to be going nowhere. I was 34, moderately built, 6'1" with flawless hair, but I was single. I sighed and ordered another rye and coke.
"I'll have the same" said a perky voice to my left. I looked over and saw a slim, brunette woman leaning over the illuminated counter. Her black tube top revealed a sample of her ample cleavage and her blue jeans looked like they had been painted on. I couldn't stop staring, even when she looked straight at me and smiled with her dazzling white teeth and rose lips. She extended her right hand and said "Hey there. I'm Sandi." I snapped out of it and took her hand in return.
"Aaron." She smiled again and looked away for a moment, as if looking for someone, but then turned her attention back to me.
"You've been at the bar for a while. Got a problem?" She queried. I liked that she cared, though I sort of wondered how long she had been watching me. I shook my head.
"Not really. My friend's out there someone trying his best to get a date, figured I should just keep a low profile." I looked at her and surprisingly, she was listening. "Besides, isn't it the bartender's job to ask me that?"
"Well, as you can see, he's a bit busy." She pointed to her left and I saw the barkeep hitting on another gay (presumably single) man. "Plus, I'm a bartender myself. I'm experienced in such a field." I smiled. Wow, a beautiful, female bartender. Drinks and beauty in the same place. "Oy!" she yelled over the the distracted bartender. "Can me and Aaron get our drinks?" He reluctantly poured out the two rye and cokes and left miserably.
We stood there in silence for a few moments, sipping the drinks.
"I'd ask you to dance, but I'm not much of a dancer. I just throw out the drunk ones at the end of the night." she said, never looking away from her drink, as if some mystical orb had appeared in it.
"Just as well. Not much of a dancer myself. " This was my only chance. Why waste it? "But if you want to continue this later, I've got a very large opening tomorrow night around dinner time. Wanna meet up and we can keep each other company?" She looked over at me; I couldn't read her face.
"Love to" she said and smiled that intoxicating smile again. "Meet me here," she said, writing on the back of a receipt she found in her pocket. "At 6:00pm. Okay?" she handed me the paper that read" "Foxy Roxy Deadpan - 6:00". We said our goodbyes and went home for the night.