Unsuspecting Prey

I ended up at a place unimaginatively called The Good Bar, eating a two thousand kilocalorie chicken sandwich and washing it down with a chocolate espresso martini, or three.

As I endulged both my love of chocolate and my need to drown out rational thought, I surveyed the crowd for someone interesting to talk to.

Two guys in their forties, both getting fat on the greasy bar food, pass; four couples, pass; three college guys that looked barely old enough to drink and a butch girl the same age who looked like she could drink them under the table, eh, why the Hell not?

Fueled by the dynamic duo of liquid courage and raging libido, I grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat down next to them.

"So, I take it you're locals," I stated.

The three guys just stared at me, but the girl laughed and said, "Mostly. I'm Jack, this is Ben, he's from Texas, but don't hold it against him, and that's James and John."

"Like the disciples," I quipped with a bit too much amusement. "I'd love to hear them screaming hallelujah."

Unfortunately, either I came on too strongly or these two were blushing virgins, as they both turned red and focused intently on their drinks.

Jack just grinned at them, obviously enjoying their discomfort. Ben, on the other hand, decided to continue the conversation, "So, I take it you're a transplant, like me?"

"Nah, not a transplant, just a quick stay on the boss' orders."

"Oh really, what kind of work do you do?"

I grinned like a school girl, or maybe a somewhat drunk twenty-seven-year-old recently off a bad {if husband==true}divorce{else} breakup{endif}, "Can't tell you, I'm a secret agent."

"Ah, a secret agent...."