"Hey, Mick! Get me another."
"Sure thing, Andy."
Andy sat alone, sipping dark rum, in the same seat at the corner of the bar that he did every afternoon when he left work. He wasn't a particularly handsome man and maybe not the best dressed in New York City but he was far from unattractive. He didn't have the best job in the world but it paid his bills and left him enough to play with. The problem Andy was drowning daily wasn't his looks or his job. It was his confidence, or his lack there of.
The cool autumn breeze blew across his back and he heard the door close. He turned to see a lone woman walking toward the bar. The click of her high heels on the hardwood floor drew his attention downward to the slender but shapely legs. He followed them up to the hem of her snug black skirt; the fabric shifting with the movement of her thighs mesmerized him. A thin leather belt accented the line of contrast of her silky red blouse and her cleavage peeked out at the top of a line of buttons that were not fastened above her breasts. Raven black hair draped over her shoulders and framed a face that surely belonged on a magazine cover. Piercing blue eyes set above high cheekbones and cherry red lips so glossy they begged to be kissed.
She glanced at him and smiled as she approached the bar next to him. She motioned the bartender with a single finger and he poured a Manhattan and placed it on a napkin in front of her. She took a sip and turned, brushing Andy's arm and spilling a few drops of her drink on his shirt.
"I'm so sorry!" the concern in her eyes kept Andy's even temper in check as she lightly brushed the surface drops away.
