It was a singles bar and first-date joint, and although it was a brewery, Mitch ordered two Beck’s in a bottle. He wanted his beers and to get-the-hell out.
A woman in a red fuck-me dress, holding a martini, approached and oozed herself against the bar, brushing herself against him. She asked the bartender for a glass of water, put an elbow on the bar, then quarter-turned toward Mitch.
Her straight, shoulder-length hair wisped around her high cheekbones tinted pink; her tits practically fell out of her dress. Mitch pulled out his wallet and looked toward the bartender, then heard a click and turned. The toe of her stiletto-heeled shoe was on the brass footrest and her ass was bent over the bar.
WTF? Her slender fingers with bright red polish reached for a napkin, then set it under her drink.
Mitch turned to get the other bartender’s attention, and a women with silicone breast in a thin-strapped turquoise top finagled her way up to the bar and wedged herself on the other side of him . . . And the two women began to chat!
Mitch stepped back, moved to the side, and signaled the bartender with his hand. The bartender pulled two bottles from the rack and set them in front of Mitch. Mitch put his money on the bar, grabbed the bottles, and left.
The breeze from the river hit his face as he walked across the piazza, envisioning the red-ribbed fuck-me dress hugging Mindi’s remarkable rack, flat abs, and tight booty as her wild, loose ringlets swayed to the rhythm of her sexy swagger.
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