Damn, why did i come here? I should just have gone home after work, get me a bottle of Chianti on the way. And why did have to go to this meeting today, having to dress up for the occasion? I feel so out of place in my skirt and the top. I feel like everybody is staring at me.

And why does she stare at me? There's plenty of guys here, and she could have them all with a snap of her fingers. Maybe she's a lesbian, but i'm not eager to be hit upon by a lesbian. Although i must admit she's a very beautiful woman. About my height, maybe a little taller, a couple of kilos heavier. And i guess she's going to the gym regularly, at least she looks like it. The chestnut locks falling to her shoulder match her green eyes and her pale complexion.
The deux pièces and the pumps, along with the rather conservative stockings lead me to the conclusion that she's probably working in one of the nearby banks. Maybe middle management in private banking?
What i notice most, tho, is that air of confidence around her. She seems to be fully aware of the looks following her, as if she's basking in the attention, expecting it even.

When she gets up from her stool and moves over to the seat next to mine i decide it's time to leave. I don't feel like talking to some dyke on the prowl. For the time being i'm done with other people. I have no urge to talk at all. I just want to go home, soak in a hot bath, get drunk and fall into bed hoping that sleep will find me...
I open the purse and take out a bill. When i place it on the bar and get ready to leave, i feel her hand on my bare arm.
"Sit down, honey! Please."
"What the he..." i stop in midsentence when i look at her. Although her words asked me to sit down, her eyes tell me a different story. They tell me that i have no other choice but to sit down. That she knows sitting there beside her, listening to her is what my subconsciousness wants to do right now. And although my brain is screaming that i should get out of here, and better make it now, my legs have a mind of their own and i find myself perched on the barstool again.

"A mineral for the young lady and a champagne for me" she tells the bartender, and turning towards me "you know, sweety, alcohol wont solve your problems. And it won't make them go away either."