This week’s Microfantasy Monday theme is ‘The Sweltering Celt‘.Â Thanks as always to Miss Ang, the Sweltering Celt, for giving us the prompt and continuing our Microfantasy Monday fun.
This is a special week because Ang has been bringing us Microfantasy Monday themes every week for a year. Â Her blog is turning 5 years old this Friday. Â If you’ve ever thought about participating Microfantasy Monday, now is the time because you might win something… check out her post on Microfantasy Mondays, Week 52 for more details.
I wandered into the bar and immediately felt a little out of place. Â It was a bit nicer than most of the places I normally hooked my heels for a beer. Â Nonetheless, I found a stool at the bar, ordered my usual and took a look around. Â The place was narrow, bordered by the long bar, a few cramped tables filling the floor space that remained, almost as an afterthought. Â The lion’s share of the room was taken up by a series of curtained off rooms, opposite the bar.
The one in the corner was a little larger than the others, and the opening fell within my line of sight as I sipped my tequila shot and chased it with beer. Â The heavy velvet curtains parted occasionally as servers slipped in and out with trays of drinks. Â I caught glimpses of a luxurious couch, low lighting and a gorgeous redhead with cleavage to die for, or in. Â At one point, I looked up just in time to see her staring at me, the curtain held back by an impressively muscular leather-clad man. Â Perhaps I should have felt intimidated, but I was in a ‘what the hell’ kind of mood, assisted by the tequila. Â I held her gaze, smirking slightly and giving her a wink, and then turned away, knowing she was still staring, the mirror behind the bar gave me a clear view. Â I feigned disinterest, taking another pull on my pint and looking at the other patrons, but I was burning with curiousity about the mystery woman.
Seemed the feeling was mutual. Â I was watching a couple at the other end of the bar move into heavy flirtation when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Â I turned to see the muscle bound man from the curtain standing behind my bar stool.
“Excuse me” he said, “The lady would like to meet you” he paused, with an almost nervous glance back at the curtained room, “Please, Sir, it’s on me if you don’t come back.”
I hesitated for a second, just to let him squirm, and then swung off the stool with my glass and shot in hand.
“Lead the way.”
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