The whiskey tasted like shit, but it was sure better than the piss-soaked puddle of water I'd just dragged myself out of. As I slid the last sip of it down my throat I felt its sharpness mix with the blood in my windpipe. It numbed the pain in my ribs. Shit, if only you could wash away wounded pride so easily.
"Hey, Sugar..." The voice sounded angelic, but it came from the mouth of a devil in a D-cup. She slid alongside me, the ice-cold coolness in her ruby smile hiding a lifetime that had burned a hundred men, which was about to become a hundred and one.
"You look like you know a good time," she breathed. I sank into the glass to prevent trouble. Not tonight. Not any night. But her thigh pressed against mine hard, so dangerous it might has well have been a razor blade. She leaned into my ear, her words seductive and loaded with false promise. "I know a little game, if you wanna play with me..."
Her warm hand had already slid inside my jacket like a viper, and with the experience of thousand tired-eyed nights, she already had my controller in her hands. I guess now I was gonna have to play her game. How the fuck did it get this far? A better man would have got up and left; "No thanks, kitten. I'm gonna have to sit this one out."
I sat down the glass and pressed Start. Huh... A better man...
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