You join them for a drink

It's hard to argue with Ben when he's really into something, and you get the idea that this might be one of those times. You give in and let Ben know you'll join them.

"You won't regret it," he cheers. "I'll go tell Tara. Meet me downstairs!"

He practically runs down the hall and back through the office. You shut your computer down for the weekend and head down to the building lobby, where you find Ben waiting for you.

"Tara's got a quick errand to run," Ben explains. "She'll meet us at the pub."

You walk the short distance down the road to Murphy's Pub. There are a few people seated here and there, having a pint and a light dinner. You recognize some of them from the office, but no faces you could name. The place rarely gets busy on a Friday until later in the evening, so you and Ben easily find a table and order a couple of beers. Upbeat, vaguely-Celtic folk rock plays in the background as various sports highlights play on the big TV above the bar. You and Ben chat and joke about the office, the day's work, and the ridiculous tie Wendsley from Accounting was wearing earlier.

You're about halfway through your drink when a small group walks into the pub. You spot Tara in the back. It looks like she walked in at the same time. Ben stands and waves her over; the big man is always pretty easy to spot even in a crowd. Tara walks over to your table, but she is not alone. She is accompanied by another young-ish woman, a curvy girl whose tight, black jeans accentuate her wide hips, but also draw attention to her thick thighs. She wears a t-shirt with a band logo scrawled across it, but you can't read it or even pick out most of the letters. Probably a metal band you haven't heard of. As you ruminate on this, it occurs to you that you're staring at her chest: the logo falls right across her medium-sized boobs. Your gaze at last drifts upward to her face. She has pretty nice features, accentuated by a small piercing in her left nostril. Her short hair is a deep, crimson red. The girls set their purses at the table, Tara's on the chair next to Ben, and the yet-unnamed woman's next to you.

"Hi guys," Tara says with a smile before turning to her friend. "Let's go get ourselves a couple of drinks."

"And maybe some chicken wings!" Ben yells after her as they walk away.

You turn to your friend and give him a glare. "Ben, what is this?" you ask.

"What do you think?" is your only response.

"Ben, you know I don't like blind dates, if that's what you're thinking."

"Hey, come on, Henry," Ben says. "She's an old friend of Tara's. She's new in town, she doesn't know a lot of people around here, she got out a relationship a few weeks ago, and she's been pretty down."

"I thought you just wanted to grab a drink and maybe a bite. I didn't know this was a setup," you complain. "When was the last time you ever heard of someone having a good time on a blind date? Let alone a double-date with their friends."

"Hey, if you aren't interested," Ben sighs. "we'll all just hang out as friends. I think she could use some of those, too. But you know, she's pretty cute, right?"

The new girl was definitely thicker than you usually went for, but you had to admit she pulled off the metalhead look pretty well and wasn't without her charms.

"And I don't even think she's looking for anything serious. Tara said she's just been down for the last little while. I made a joke that what she really needed was a good fuck. Tara said I was being inappropriate, but Claire said I was right. To make a long story short, we thought that since you've also been single for a while, maybe you could throw her a bone."

"Ben, I'm not a gigolo," you groan. "I'm not exactly sad and lonely."

"Okay, David Lee Roth," Ben replies. "Again, no pressure. I'm just saying keep an open mind and see where the night goes."

Before you can say anything else, Tara and the new girl, Claire you gather is her name, return to the table. Claire is carrying a stack of beer cups, while Tara has a fresh pitcher of beer. Once they sit down, Tara pours a cup for herself, then her friend, and then starts pouring one each for you and Ben. The two of you hastily gulp down the last of your first beers.

Can't do that too much tonight, you think. It's still early, and I still have to drive home.

"So, Ben," Tara says as she slides you your cup. "This is my friend Claire. She's new in town, so I suggested she come out with us tonight."

You and Claire exchange a brief greeting before taking a sip of your respective beverages.

"Tara was telling me you all work together," Claire remarks. "Just down the road here?" You nod. "Do you know Enmity Records, like a block from here? I work there."

You did know the place - a little independent record store you used to visit all the time when you were younger. Darrell Enmity, the owner, was an old friend of your dad's. You hadn't been by in years. Honestly, you didn't even think a lot of people still bought music on physical media. You comment that you used to shop there all the time back in the day, and that you recall always finding harder-to-find albums there. You omit the thought about the relevance of record sales in the modern era.

"That's actually what drew me there," Claire says. "Independent stores always have way better stuff than your Biebers or like."

The night goes on. You all have a bit to eat, and probably a few more beers than you should. Looks like I'm not driving home tonight, you think to yourself towards the end of the second pitcher. Guess I'll take a cab later. As the evening progresses, you learn that a band is playing in the pub tonight, one of those bland groups that plays mostly classic rock covers as poorly as possible. However, you have to admit you're having a decent time. Ben and Tara are great company as always, and you're pleasantly surprised that Claire can drink as much as the rest of you. In fact, you start to suspect she could drink you under the table: by the end of your next pitcher you're all several beers in, but she has no sign of slowed speech, no slurred words, no noticeable loss of hand-eye coordination. Of course, it's also possible that you're all just equally drunk so you don't notice. Sometime later, Tara drags a **** Ben onto the dance floor, leaving just Clair and you at the table.

"So..." Claire begins, breaking a moment of awkward silence. "How do you know Tara and Ben?"

You're pretty sure you covered this earlier. Maybe the **** is hitting her more than you thought. Or maybe it's hitting you, and you didn't actually talk about this after all.

"We all work together," you say. "But Ben's an old friend. Tara's an even older friend. We all went to school together, too."

"I won't tell Tara you said she's 'even older'," Clair answers with a wry grin.

"No, what I meant is..." you begin, wondering if that was a poor choice in words.

Claire isn't paying attention, though. She's looking across the bar, scanning the room for something.

"Fuck, do you know where the bathroom is?" she asks. "Suddenly I really have to pee."

"Three pitchers of beer'll do that to you," you laugh. "Bathroom's at the back, just past the bar."

"Dammit, it looks like there's a line," she says, looking in the direction you indicated. "Come with me? Keep me company? I don't want to stand there awkwardly all by myself."

"You'd rather stand there awkwardly with the one man in line for the ladies' room?" you say.

"Yes," Claire answers before thinking. "Well obviously you wouldn't come in!"