It was a dreary, dark morning and I shouldn’t have been up so early, but I was.  I had a mission. The previous evening I had met an extremely Pretty Boy at a rockabilly rally in the art district of old town.  He was showing some artwork and I had been admiring it (as well as him) with a vengeance.  Pretty Boy made me promise I’d sashay my svelte ass into the bar where he worked, first thing the next morning.  I explained that mornings were usually out of the question, but I would seriously try… for him. He said he would make it worth my while.

So, late morning upon me, I slip in to the oh- too-cheerfully lit cocktail lounge, wearing a frilly, little, red retro dress with little martini glasses sewn in the collar.