Day 5

"Come here often?"

My eyebrows arched and I looked up in the direction of the voice. It belonged to a leggy redhead in a black cocktail dress.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" I asked. "The key word in that phrase is 'line.'"

She blushed a little. "I'm a little out of practice."

"I can tell," I said, letting out a short chuckle. "Don't guys usually hit on you?"

"You would think so, but sometimes I think they're intimidated by my looks."

I got up from my barstool to get a better look. She was definitely a woman that any sighted man would be attracted to. Her hair fell just past her shoulders and she had it tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were a light hazel and complemented her hair nicely.

She turned a bit to give me a side view. The dress stretched in just the right places in front and back. It's not as if the dress was painted on, but there was not a lot of spare fabric.

"May I buy you a drink?" I asked, pointing to the seat next to the one I'd just gotten up from. "You certainly earned it."

It was her turn for arched eyebrows. "Earned it?"

"It's not every day that I get hit on by a woman who looks as good as you. I'd like to reward you for giving my ego a boost."

She sat down on the seat I'd pointed to and smiled a bit. "When you put it that way, how could I refuse?"

"You could've said 'no.' Happens often enough that I've lost track of how much."

She got a look on her face that seemed to be a mix of sympathy and empathy. I began to wonder if she sat down only because she felt sorry for me.

"Well, you're certainly one of the better dressed guys in here," she said. "Not often I see a man in a suit in here."

It was true. I did have a suit on, a blue one with a white shirt, top button undone. I had taken the tie off and put it in the jacket pocket when I'd gotten out of the car.

"They say the clothes make the man, right?" I said. "I'd rather not look like a slob in a bar."

The bartender came over to where we were sitting. "Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Moscow Mule for me," I said. "Get the lady whatever she wants."

"That sounds good," she said. "Make it two, Mike."

"You got it, Carol." Mike walked away to get our drinks.

It hadn't occurred to me to ask her name, considering I thought I was getting ready to get shot down again.

"So, Carol, huh? I'm Todd."

Carol giggled a bit and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Todd."

I took her hand and brought it to my lips, placing a light kiss on the back. "So, do you come here often?"

"You could say that," Carol said, a small smirk on her face.

I could feel the "What the..." look creeping across my face. Evidently, Carol could see it and smiled.

The sound of a pair of glasses being set down on the bar broke me out of the mental haze that had been starting to roll in over me.

"Anything else?" Mike asked.

"No, Mike," Carol said. "These are on me."

"But...," I said, having been transported to the Land of Confusion.

"Mike works for me," Carol said. "I own the bar."

"Doesn't it say Carl's Bar and Grill outside?"

"It does," Carol nodded. "I bought it from a man named Carl and found it was easier to just keep the name than change it for one letter."

I picked up my glass. "A toast."

Carol picked up hers and clinked it against mine. "To?"

"A night that keeps getting more interesting."

"I'll drink to that."

I can tell you now. It did.