the bar first?

You feel a little parched already so you go and find your way to the bar. You slip onto a stool by yourself and order a drink. You look around to see if there's anyone interesting there to talk to. Most of the men at the bar are already preoccupied with some other pretty woman, but there's one guy at the end of the bar, drinking a beer. He's only a year or two older than you by the looks of it. You can't really see his face because of the dim club lighting but he has a fit build and nicely cut dark hair. He's dressed maybe a little too good for this place. It seems almost as if he's meant for the VIP room judging by the Italian leather shoes that you could only dream of affording. He turns his head slightly to look at you and you wave a little. He smiles but doesn't come over, only sits there sipping his drink. You can't tell if he's merely shy or just not interested, but he's definitely attractive enough to suit your needs tonight.

On the other hand, there's also the bar tender. He's friendly and well built, a tall redhead who looks almost blonde in the light. He's chatting up everyone and serving people with practiced efficiency, but you can see his eyes lingering on you. Every few seconds he'll glance over and get a little too lost in your cleavage. You like the attention, and you can feel your nipples harden slightly as you think about what he might be thinking of as he looks at you. You glance back at the man drinking the beer and bite your lip, sipping slowly on your drink. You're going to have to make the first move either way, it appears.