"Dude. Look at all the tattoos and piercings. And that short hair. And the clothes! She's totally a lesbian. Gotta be," my friend said, nudging my shoulder with his and knocking back his beer.
"Don't care. Look at how hot she is, man, I ain't passin' up a chance with that," I told him, standing from the bar and walking across the crowded room to the beauty I couldn't pull my eyes from.
"Hey there," I drawled, tipping my cowboy hat at her and smiling courteously. I was a southern boy, bred and raised, manners, chivalry; I knew how to treat a woman. If the woman wanted me, that was to say.
"Michael McCullum. And what, may I ask, is yours, pretty lady?"
Under the dark glow of the bar lights, I got a better look at her, and saw the hint of her ancestry in the tone of her skin. She was as caramel colored as I was white. Not that it made her any less attractive. Maybe even more so.
"Angela Marcus. So tell me, Michael, why did you come over here?" she asked, a smile faintly hinting at her lips as she gently twirled the ice cubes in her glass of what I thought might be scotch, if I was to go by the scent of it.
"Why would any guy in any bar walk up to any girl?"
She laughed shortly. "Sit down, Michael. Talk to me," she said, a cool sort of fire burning in her eyes, her skin glowing.
I sat across the small table from her and tipped my hat again. Musta been forceuv habit. "So. Angela-"
"Kid, how old are you?" she asked me, cutting me off.
"Too old for you to be callin' me kid," I frowned.
"Babydoll, I ain't playin' games, now. I'm almost 30 years old. I can't be hangin' around with a boy like you that's just any old age."
"Wouldn't'a guessed a day over twenty-four, ma'am," I grinned.
"You little kiss ass," she laughed. "Think you can handle alluh this, huh?"
"If I can ride bull good as I do, I don't think a woman of any caliber is too much, if ya don't mind my sayin',"
"Do you ride it like you talk it?" she asked with a glint in her eyes.
"I don't talk it, ma'am. Just ride."
She shook her head. "No, kid, see, it's a quote from The Outsiders." When she saw the lack of recognition in my face, she began to explained, but then said, "It ain't important; nevermind. But stop callin' me ma'am!"
"Can't help bein' polite, Miss," I said, making it a point to say miss.
"So what do you expect from me tonight?" Angela asked me, eyeing me carefully.
"Whatever you'll give me," I laughed.
"And what would you do if I said I was a lesbian?"
"Well, that's what my friend said. I said he was wrong. Please tell me he was," I said, only slightly desperate.
"Oh, I'm not. I'm bisexual. Hey, baby," she said, smiling up at a tall blonde who'd just walked up to the side of the table.
The blonde leaned over and kissed her. Angela stood, ready to walk out of the bar. "But here's a gift that you can take back to your friend." She pressed a soft kiss to my lips, before both girls traipsed out of the bar on each others' arms.