Find company at the bar

I freshen up in the bathroom, straighten my hair, and change into a clean shirt. Many a night I have stepped into one of the bars after work and strolled home with a giggling cutie. Not reliably, but if I want some action and I’m not feeling picky, nothing beats hanging around the corner dive bar until closing. Any lady at the bar alone there at that time of night is looking to score.

It’s a two-block walk to Randolf’s Bar. Colorful murals and music spilling from restaurants enliven the night. The place is a standard neighborhood bar out of the '90s, neither to be swayed by the passing décor trends nor incorporating crass electronic gambling screens at every table. It’s just a quiet place with a jukebox and cheap drinks.

A couple of men play pool in the back and a mix of men and women sit at the bar table. My sonar pings. I find a seat next to a woman that appears to be alone, looking around lightly and eavesdropping on other conversations. She is wearing a nice calf-length purple floral dress, acceptable for office wear or a nice restaurant. It is only slightly overdressed for Randolf's. I only see the back of her head with brown hair and highlights tied back with a purple barrette. Her ponytail hangs past a lovely neck, then curls over her shoulder. My groin dingles as I approach the open seat.

“Is it alright if I sit here?” I ask.

She turns, martini glass at her lips, and nods before even seeing me. "Mm-hmm," she says while swallowing. Her eyes smile at me, then her mouth as well.

Well, this is a good sign. I smile back, then wave toward the bartender. I turn to the purple dress woman and ask her quietly, "Hmm, What do I feel like? Is your cocktail good?" I notice it is a lavender color, probably an aviation. This isn't the bar for fancy cocktails, but it's a playful choice.

She doesn't hesitate. "Good enough I'd drink another."

I blink. Okay! We are hitting the ground running tonight. I ask the bartender for two more and ease into some banter.