The Brown Drunkard

Deciding your best chances are with the drunk, you casually slip on over to her table. Along the way, she eyes you apprehensively, unsure of your intent, yet curious all the same. As you draw closer, you see that her hair is disheveled and skin littered with what appear to be oil stains. But, given her short sleeved shirt and skirt, she doesn't remind you of any mechanic.

She smiles as you take a seat across from here. "What can I do for you?" Despite her flushed face and overall drunken state, the woman clearly was not as drunk as she first appeared.

"There's only three people in the bar, and you seemed the most approachable." You smile back, settling into your new home.

The woman chuckles. "The last guy who tried hitting on me wound up in the hospital with a broken hand." Something about her demeanor told you that she was deadly serious. It is probably best not to impose yourself too hard. You'd rather not end up like the last guy.

"I'm just here for some company as I drink myself into a stupor after finding out the woman I loved was seeing another man. No harm, no foul. Just a nice chat."

She stares at me for a long time as if analyzing my words. Finally, she smiles. "I know the feeling." Her words rang true. "Catherine." She introduces herself.

"Adam." Returning her generosity, you give your name.

At this time, you see the other woman stand to leave. She walks with one foot in front of the other, drawing attention to her ass, the pinpoint of her extravagant sway.

"God, I hate people like her. My ass is far better." Catherine says in a smug tone, catching your attention once again.

"O'yeah?" You recall the mental picture of her large ass hidden between the chair.

"Totally. My mom would be proud, and I'm sure even my dad would hit it if he could. He loved any woman with a big ass, which is why mom left him." Catherine laughs.

"I'm sure any man would go after a woman such as yourself." You compliment her.

"Yeah? Then why am I still single?" She waves her bare ring hand.

"Clearly, you haven't met the right man yet." You propose.

"And what are the qualities of the right man?" She emphasizes.

You smile. "Handsome, strong, hard-working, capable of not only supporting himself, but you as well. And he has to be able to hold his liquor too." You tell Catherine categories that you believe you fell under. Hoping to spark any ounce interest.

"What do you do for work?" She questions you further.

"White collar job, generally office work. Manage my own division in the company. Boring and tedious for the most part, but offers a relaxing atmosphere and pays well." You can't help but boast your success.

"Well, can't say you don't fit under most of the things you said." Catherine recognizes your attempt to impress her.

Both you and Catherine engage in several topics of conversation for what seemed like hours. Drinks are drunk, dreams declared, history shared. In the short time together, you and Catherine had already become well-acquainted. Unfortunately, this doesn't last as Catherine's phone jingles a melody, signalling that the time for work was not too far off.

At the same time, you notice just how early it actually was. When you had arrived it was around two o'clock at night. Checking your own phone, you see that it currently seven in the morning. Time really does fly.

Before leaving, Catherine offers an exchange of phone number, which you so happily oblige by. And with that, she was gone. Out the door from where you had first entered. Watching her walk away was one of the most satisfying moments in your life. Her ass was just as perfect as she had claimed.