The Actor sat in the hotel bar, nursing the one scotch he had allowed himself. He told the woman behind the bar he had made the road trip for an audition that had proved fruitless. Too tall, too bald, too who knew? There was no figuring casting agents, he told her. He sat in his room feeling frustrated and depressed, then decided to head down to the bar, hoping to meet a lonely businesswoman or, at least, a sexy bartendress.
The woman behind the bar was sexy enough, but there must have been an assholes' convention in town, because the bar was filled with fat, over-dressed men smoking cigars and braying too loudly at each other's bad jokes. They wore their half-mast ties like badges of office and wielded cell phones like royal scepters.
The Actor had just about decided to call it a night when she walked into the room. She was a compact little dyke with a boyish haircut. She wore no make-up or jewelry and her eyebrows were thick and bushy. She wore black jeans and a black leather bomber jacket over some kind of leather halter. She stood in the middle of the room and lit an unfiltered cigarette, feeling all the pig-men's eyes on her. Surveying the herd and finding them wanting, she moved casually across the bar and took the seat between the Actor and a particularly swinish salesman. The Actor stared at her with obvious interest.
"What are you looking at, boy?" she snarled.
"I'm sorry, it's just that you are the most interesting person I've seen here tonight."
"Of course I am", she said.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"How original", she said as she rolled her eyes. But she ordered a beer, nonetheless. She declined the glass the bartendress offered. She looked at the Actor in his jeans and sweater and said, "You
don't look like you belong with these other losers. What's your story?"
"I'm an actor. I'm here for an audition."
She snorted.
"An actor, huh? Where do you wait tables?"
He bristled a bit at this.
"I don't wait tables. Never have."
"Oh, an artiste'. Your girlfriend must be real impressed."
"Actually, I don't have a girlfriend."
"There's a shock."
He felt his cheeks redden. He had to give himself a chance to regroup.
"Excuse me. I have to hit the restroom."
And off he went.
The fat salesman whistled softly and said, "Wow, you were kind of rough on him, weren't you?"
"Who? Actor boy? He loved it."
"I don't think so. He looked pretty pissed. I'm surprised he didn't tell you to kiss his ass."
"Are you kidding? He'd kiss MY bare ass right here if I told him to."
"Oh, no way," the piggy salesman snorted.
"Care to make a bet?"
"That he would kiss your ass? Right here in the bar?"
"Sure."
"Ok, I got a hundred says he won't."
"You're on."
Another fat conventioneer at the end of the bar chimed in, "Can I get in on that action?"
"Sorry, tubby. This bet is made. Want to up the ante?". She reached into her leather bra, pulled out a wad of cash and waved it at him.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"I've got five hundred says he'll lick my sweaty ass-crack if I order him to."
The conventioneer wasn't so sure, but the idea that she would have to drop her pants decided him.
