Anya glared down at the polished cherry wood of the table in front of her and downed her third shot of tequila in one go. She sat alone in the far corner of the Irish pub, and no one seemed enthusiastic to join the brooding brunette. That was just fine with her, she could do just as well on her own. Besides, she planned to get absolutely smashed and she didn't need anyone else taking advantage of her while she was drunk.
She was certainly something to look at when she didn't have murder in her dark almond shaped eyes. Her dark brown hair was cut short at her jawline and styled in a pixie A-line cut. It looked bad on some people, but she made it work. Her skin was the color of freshly baked bread, and she sported a rather gorgeous figure.
True she wasn't perfectly curved, she had only b-cups and at 29 she had to work very hard for her flat, rock hard belly. But she was pretty nonetheless. She was dressed conservatively tonight in a tan business-length skirt with a pretty pink blouse.
Anya waved the busty blond waitress over and asked for another round. After taking her empty glasses, she turned and swished off to fulfill the order. Anya jealously admired her hips from behind as the girl bent slightly over the bar. She had a nice curvy shape, almost the ideal hourglass. Her golden curls were braided down her back and nearly reached her knees. With eyes as dark as the night outside and freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, she could likely have any guy she wanted.
The waitress returned with three more shots and set them in front of Anya, who drained the first almost immediately to bury the guilt she felt at stirring over another woman. Her head started to feel fuzzy, and she enjoyed the sensation. It was a welcome relief to the day's misadventures. She'd been denied a promotion, rejected by a crush and lost her favorite pair of earrings all in one day.
The pub was slowly emptying as time went on, but Anya stayed and continued to drink. She slowed down as her body warmed; a telltale sign of her inebriation. Her head turned when the doors of the quaint establishment banged open and a trashy-looking redhead flounced in.
She was dressed in a typical Goth style, her eyes rimmed dark black with eyeliner. The rest of her skin was flawless, a creamy pale color that starkly contrasted with the black dress and ripped leggings she wore. Her wet combat boots squeaked on the shiny wood floor as she fearlessly made her way to Anya's table and plopped down on the opposite side of the booth.
Anya was surprised at the sudden appearance, but she also couldn't help noticing the rather large bust that the girl's corset boldly presented. She had to at least be a D. The girl's eyes were a shocking violet, but when Anya looked closer she could clearly see the thin line of contacts encircling her irises. She wondered what color the girl's eyes really were.
"Hello, my name's Tally!" the girl introduced herself with a sleazy smile, holding out her hand for Anya to shake. Anya took it, feeling the softness of Tally's palms.
